LunarSync Comms: Dark Protocol

Chapter 1: Static Silence

The server room was colder than I remembered. Maybe it was the absence of chatter or the way the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting long shadows between the rows of humming machines. It didn’t matter; I had what I wanted—space, silence, and time to work on my own terms. My classmates had moved on, and I was finally free from the uneasy feeling that gnawed at me whenever they were around. The silence was a relief, and Echo's quiet presence beside me was the only company I craved.

The servers blinked rhythmically, a comforting pattern in the otherwise monotonous space. I liked to think of them as the heartbeat of LunarSync, a steady pulse that kept everything running smoothly. If they stopped, if they faltered, everything would change. But that was why I was here—why Echo was here—to keep the heart beating.

I adjusted my navy blue overalls, running my fingers over the yellow stripes around the shoulders. Echo, standing beside me, mirrored the uniform, but its appearance was far more mechanical. Its metallic frame glinted under the harsh lights, a stark contrast to my human fragility. Its white eyes glowed softly, scanning the room as if looking for any signs of irregularity.

“This is it, Echo. Just us now,” I said, breaking the silence as I leaned over one of the terminals. The screen flickered to life, displaying the familiar interface of the SyncLink system. I pulled up the latest logs, reviewing the data streams that flowed through the station like digital rivers. “Looks like everything’s stable for now.”

Echo tilted its head slightly, a gesture I’d come to recognize as curiosity. “Your isolation is self-imposed, but it is not total. I will remain with you, Xenon. Is this acceptable?”

I managed a small smile, appreciating the way it always phrased things so logically, yet with a hint of care. “Yeah, it’s more than acceptable, Echo. I don’t mind being alone—well, not when you’re around.”

Echo’s eyes flickered briefly, and I wondered if it understood the full weight of what I meant. For a moment, there was only the sound of the servers and the quiet clicks of the terminal keys as I worked. But then, a soft chime from the SyncLink interface caught my attention.

“Echo, run a diagnostic on the incoming data streams,” I instructed, a frown creasing my forehead. “Looks like there’s a slight distortion in Sector C’s logs. Could be a minor error, but I don’t want to ignore it.”

Echo’s eyes pulsed brighter for a moment as it processed the request. “Diagnostic initiated. Distortion detected in data stream 0xAB34. Possible interference within the server’s electromagnetic field.”

“Interference?” I echoed, leaning closer to the screen. That didn’t make sense. The station was isolated from most external disruptions, and any internal interference should have triggered an automatic alert. “That shouldn’t be happening. Let’s check the hardware.”

We moved together through the narrow aisles of the server room, the rows of machines standing like silent sentinels around us. I reached Sector C, crouching down to inspect the hardware connections while Echo monitored the power readings. My hands moved quickly, checking cables and ports, but everything seemed normal—except for that nagging feeling in my gut.

Echo’s voice cut through the stillness. “No abnormalities detected in the power flow. However, the interference persists. It may be prudent to conduct a manual scan.”

“Yeah, good idea,” I replied, reaching for the handheld scanner in my toolkit. I powered it up, sweeping it slowly over the servers, watching as the readouts flickered on the device’s display. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary—just the usual electromagnetic fields. But then, as I moved the scanner closer to the back of the server rack, it started to glitch, the readings spiking erratically.

“What the...?” I muttered, adjusting the scanner to a different frequency. The interference was stronger here, concentrated in this one spot. “Echo, can you cross-reference this with any known signatures? I don’t think we’ve seen anything like this before.”

Echo’s eyes dimmed slightly as it accessed its database. “Cross-referencing initiated. No matches found in previously recorded signatures. The interference is anomalous.”

I frowned, staring at the scanner’s screen as the readings continued to spike. An anomaly. That could mean anything—from a faulty piece of equipment to something far stranger. And the thought of that, of something unexpected lurking in the shadows of our station, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Keep an eye on this, Echo. I’ll dig deeper into the logs, see if I can find any patterns or recent changes that might explain this. Maybe it’s just a glitch.”

But as I headed back to the terminal, a sense of unease settled in my chest. The isolation that had once felt like a comfort now felt like something else—something that made me hyper-aware of every sound, every flicker of light. And deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this interference was just the beginning of something much darker.

Echo’s steady presence was a small comfort, but even it couldn’t dispel the growing sense of dread that crept through the server room.