The fluorescent hum of the server racks was a low growl in the sterile air, a constant thrum against the sticky silence of the data center. Miles, his trench coat smelling faintly of ozone and despair, adjusted the collar of his shirt. The blinking lights, a kaleidoscope of cold blues and greens, cast long, distorted shadows on the polished concrete floor, each pulse a tiny, ticking clock counting down to… something. He scanned the rows of silent monoliths, the digital brains of the city, each one holding secrets that could drown a man better than any storm drain. He’d followed the breadcrumbs here, whispered rumors about data caches and dirty algorithms, a trail that ended in this arctic abyss, where the only warmth was the heat radiating from the machinery, a heat that promised to burn him alive if he wasn't careful.
