Despite her lazy, detached tone, the technicians felt an inexplicable chill crawl up their spines. They hurriedly snapped their attention back to their screens.
Director Kaelen stood off to the side, a vein throbbing in his temple. He was clearly seething, yet terrified to actually intervene.
Serena ignored him entirely.
After taking full control of the system, she didn't instantly try to force Specimen Seven back into submission.
Instead, she extracted the raw data of the anomalous frequency from earlier.
Columns of code and fluctuating graphs blurred across her screen at breakneck speed.
Serena's fingers danced across the keyboard in a rapid, rhythmic blur.
"Pull up Specimen Seven's cerebral data mapping," she commanded without looking up. "And its chip reception frequency."
The technicians instantly scrambled to execute her orders.
Within seconds, a razor-thin, blood-red frequency overlay materialized on the previously stable monitoring display.
A technician staring at the data went pale. "What is that?"
Kaelen's heart sank, and he snapped his head toward the man. "What is the situation?"
The technician's throat seized. "This... this is completely wrong..."
With a trembling finger, he pointed at the screen. "We only issued a standard Level- One Neural Prompt. A normal command simply triggers baseline motor functions— standing, lifting an arm, basic visual tracking... It is statistically impossible to generate a frequency like this!"