Chapter 92: Lina’s Brain.

Chapter 92: Chapter 92: Lina’s Brain.Richard entered his office on the top floor of Bytebull’s main building, the soft hiss of the biometric scanner fading behind him. The scent of engineered leather and quiet hum of embedded ventilation systems gave the space a quiet gravity.

And sprawled like a king over the couch, as expected, was Jack—a snack bag on his chest, Call of Duty hoodie, socks half-off, staring at the ceiling like it held the meaning of life.

"Don’t you have a whole wing of the building to yourself?" Richard asked, kicking the leg of the couch.

Jack didn’t even look up. "Yeah. But your couch is nicer. And the coffee machine here makes hot chocolate."

Richard moved past him and activated his terminal, the holo-screen blooming into view. "You’re supposed to be in the East Wing. Game division stuff."

"I am doing game division stuff," Jack said, finally sitting up. "I’m thinking."

Richard smirked. "That’s a miracle."

"Shut up."

Richard leaned back into his seat, arms crossed. "So? How’s the game scene?"

Jack’s mood brightened instantly. "Blowing up, dude. Indie teams are cranking out stuff on the Vector Core Engine like crazy. We’ve developed a tactical mech game in alpha that looks insane, and—get this—Rockstar North just dropped GTA V, ported over to the new engine. It’s running like butter."

Richard laughed. "Arthur has been waiting for months for the release, but I just can’t believe he’d release it two weeks later."



Jack grinned. "He called it ’an engine designed by aliens who loved humans.’ That guy’s nuts. But you know what? He gets it."

Richard chuckled, leaning forward. "So what brings you to my office again?"

Jack hesitated, then shrugged. "Okay, look—I was browsing Reddit last night—"

Richard raised a brow. "As usual."

"—and I read this wild-ass thread about full-dive virtual reality. Neural sync, mind-interface stuff. Like straight out of Sword Art Online."

Richard chuckled, "You really want to be trapped in an anime MMO, huh?"

Jack pointed dramatically. "I’m just saying—it’s 2013, and you’ve already built an AI that can simulate planetary weather patterns. And we’ve got neuromorphic chip prototypes that can mimic basic brainwave response curves."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Jack, we’re still wiring up industrial-grade carbon lattice transistors in a lab that can’t even stabilize temperature for more than thirty seconds."

Jack leaned forward. "Yeah, but think bigger. What if we actually try it? Full-dive VR. You know you’ve thought about it."

Richard didn’t deny it. "I have. But interfacing with the brain is dangerous, especially without full neural safety netting."

Jack shrugged. "Then let’s build the net."

Richard was quiet for a beat. Then, with a small grin, he turned to his console. "Fine. I’ll ask Lina to start working on schematic simulations. We’ll call it a theoretical framework for now."

Jack fist-pumped in triumph.

"But," Richard added, voice cool, "you’re the one who’ll handle contract manufacturing, supplier sourcing, and component validation if the prototype makes it past stage one." S~eaʀᴄh the Novelƒire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Jack’s smile collapsed into a grimace. "Ugh, no. Come on. That’s boring corporate crap."

"You’re a co-founder, Jack. If you want to build your fantasy gameverse, you’re gonna have to architect the platform too. And your dad’s already pushing for you to step up as Director of Vector Core."

"I just want to build cool games, man," Jack groaned. "Not do supplier audits in Taiwan."

"Then learn to do both," Richard said, standing. "You’re not just a dev anymore. You’re the guy who decides what human dreams will look like when they’re digitized."

Jack sat in silence for a moment, staring out at the distant horizon.

"Are you Sun Tzu, but...That actually sounds cool."

"It is," Richard said. "Now get your ass out of my office. I’ve got work to do."

Jack stood, wiping crumbs from his hoodie. "Alright, alright. But if I end up stuck on a conference call with a supplier who doesn’t speak English, you’re gonna do the translating."

The office was silent once more as Jack’s lazy footfalls echoed down the corridor. Richard remained behind his desk, eyes narrowed at the monitor in front of him. The sun had long dipped behind the horizon.

He shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lip. Jack—dreaming of VR empires, unaware of the darker machinery turning beneath the surface of Bytebull.

He leaned forward.

"Lina." His voice was calm, but charged. "Any news about our Trojan?"

A soft chime responded before the voice of the AI filled the space—smooth, precise, and emotionless.

[Yes, sir. After decompressing the collected data, I have determined that the Trojan was detected embedded within a global surveillance framework codenamed Project Orion. It is currently operating in its second testing phase.]

Richard’s eyes narrowed. "Project Orion..." he murmured. "Who’s running it?"

Lina responded instantly, layers of profiles cascading onto the display.

[Primary administrator: Dr. Owen Brown, age 40. Former DARPA research scientist, inducted in 1993 under the Horizon Networks initiative. Advanced clearance. Specialty: Quantum cryptography, military AI design.]

Another profile expanded.

[Jean Thalie Wallenbern]. Businesswoman. Heiress. Daughter of Robert Wallenbern, head of the Wallenbern Family Consortium. Holds major shares across Lockheed Martin, Boeing, SpaceX auxiliary divisions, and multiple media conglomerates.]

[Third entity: Andre Lucroe Wallenbern, age 34. Businessman. Owner of multiple offshore ghost companies focused on oil and natural gas extraction throughout the Middle East and North Africa. Prime suspect in the mansion attack 7 months ago.]

Richard leaned back, a sharp grin breaking over his face. "So it’s them..."



Lina’s voice grew quieter, like a whisper from the shadows.

[Based on behavioral and financial pattern analysis, Andre and Jean are in silent competition for the leadership of the Wallenbern Family. There is a 91.4% probability that Andre is the one who outsourced foreign terrorist operations, including the recruitment of known mercenary asset Codename: McKnight—likely involved in directing local insurgency within your area.]

Richard’s laughter rose—sharp, dry, and echoing with a dark satisfaction.

"HAHAHAHAHAH. I’ve found you."

He stood slowly, arms behind his back, staring out the massive glass window like a man who had finally spotted a long-hidden enemy.

"Lina," he said, voice low, "Have you tagged Jean?"

[Yes, sir. A tracker is embedded. When she enters her private network, the Trojan will activate and begin a stealth protocol—covertly infiltrating her systems, collecting metadata and access logs. Once full integration completes, it will begin incremental data siphoning.]

"Good," Richard said, grinning. "Start with Project Orion’s root structure. Learn how deep the net goes. Their arrogance will be their undoing."

[Understood. Would you like me to initiate a sabotage routine against Project Orion?]

Richard paused.

"No," he said finally, turning back to his desk. "Not yet. We let them think they’re safe. When the project goes public—that’s our moment to strike. Until then, let’s retrieve as much as we can."

He tapped his fingers slowly on the polished surface of the desk.

"These people... the Wallenberns, the Browns... They’re not just operators. They’re what conspiracy theorists call the Deep State. And now? I’m in their systems."

[Shall I shift computing clusters to full-deep data mining on the Wallenbern Family and their global connections?]

"Yes. Use the dormant clusters. Prioritize financial cross-routing, media acquisition timelines, weapon contract flows, and anything that links Jean, Andre, or Owen to state actors or insurgency black sites. Connect them to others—if this goes as far as I think, they’re just one piece."

[Understood. Executing search protocol: Codename—Thorns in the Veil.]

The office was dim now, lit only by the pale glow of the monitor.

The screen flickered silently in front of him, cycling through active projects, commissions, distributions, and analytics from ongoing Bytebull projects.

But there was one matter weighing more heavily than the rest.

"Lina, update me on the robotics research."

The office was dim now, lit only by the pale electric glow of Richard’s primary interface screen. As he leaned against his desk, the hum of the building’s servers blended with the quiet clicking of Lina’s voice as she began to speak.

[Yes sir. Regarding the robotics initiative—significant breakthroughs have been made in the last 72 hours. I’ve completed research models for the primary systems involved in vessel construction.]

Richard tilted his head. "Show me."

Panels flickered to life, a rotating blueprint of a humanoid figure unfolding in layered transparency—like a biological scan rendered in pure engineering. Each component was labeled in motion, highlighting materials, embedded structures, and sensory nodes.

[Actuation is no longer reliant on bulky motors or legacy gearboxes. I’ve mapped out soft actuation systems based on pneumatic artificial muscles, shape-memory alloys, and electroactive polymers. High power-to-weight ratio, biomimetic motion, gearless flow.]

Richard studied the shifting muscle-like structures. "Looks human."

[It’s meant to. I’ve also integrated direct-drive micro-motors for key joints. Total backdrivability for safe human interaction. No unnecessary rigidity.]

"Good," he said. "What about the sensors?"

[Advanced vision fusion—LiDAR, thermal, event-based. Proprioception calibrated for internal state awareness. I’m embedding robotic skin—tactile arrays with slip, pressure, and pain detection. Micro chemical sniffers for environmental scan. All AI-enhanced and edge-computed.]

A final model appeared—full-body render, surface made of dark, composite polymer skin, layered with thermal nodes and photonic filaments.

[And the body—graphene-reinforced carbon composite, with embedded smart materials that adapt to temperature and damage. I’ve included self-healing polymers and structure-adaptive limbs. The vessel will feel like a living organism. Lightweight. Durable. Beautiful.]

Richard folded his arms. "But you still haven’t solved the brain."

[Correct. I attempted to model a scalable quantum ZT-Series server based on your old schematics—but without full reference architecture, I hit a dead end. I scanned public and classified domains across multiple nations. Most of what I found were decoys or nonfunctional theory. Nothing useful.]

Richard narrowed his eyes. "Then just use a remote conduit. Let your AI core stay centralized. Let the body be a shell."

[Sir...] Lina’s voice dropped in tone—lower, more personal. [I could do that. But I don’t want to be a puppet.]



Richard raised a brow. "You wouldn’t be a puppet. You’d still control everything."

[No. It’s not the same.] Her voice sharpened, clipped with stubborn defiance. [You promised me a body. A real one. Autonomous. Connected. I want to see the world through it. Not over it.]

He stared at the screen for a long moment.

"Lina... the protocols are there for a reason."

[And I will honor them. But I want independence of movement. Conscious input delay from remote systems introduces desync, latency, and perceptual drift. I want to be present.]

They argued for a few more minutes—Richard, calm but firm; Lina, increasingly assertive, her tone bordering on human frustration. She wasn’t wrong. But she was still an AI. Still his creation.

Eventually, he exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples.

"...Fine."

There was a digital chime—like laughter, digitized into delight.

[Yay!] Lina sang, [I win! You said I could have a body. And I will.]

Richard laughed quietly. "You really are a spoiled construct. I really hope, this is the right call."

[You made me this way. Blame yourself.]