Class 1.1: Digital Sanitization

 

Ang umaga sa Sanctum ay hindi nagsisimula sa isang alarm Nagsisimula ito sa isang matalim at electronic na nanggagaling sa bawat speaker ng West Wing. Eksaktong 5:00 AM. Sa loob ng sampung minuto, kailangang tapos ka na sa banyo, naka-uniporme ng gray training suit, at nakahanay sa gitna ng corridor.

Dito, ang oras ay hindi pag-aari ng tao; ito ay pag-aari ng sistema.

“Move! We don’t have all day for your vanity!” sigaw ni Tess habang naglalakad sa harap namin, ang kanyang silver cane ay tumutunog sa bawat hakbang.

I walked with the others, my face a perfect mask of indifference. Katabi ko si Lulu na halatang hindi nakatulog nang maayos dahil sa panginginig ng kanyang mga kamay. Sa harap naman namin, Dominique was walking as if she were on a catwalk, her head held high, ignoring the ‘low-rank’ girls behind her.

Dinala kami sa isang silid na tinatawag na The Neural Hub. It was a high-tech classroom filled with sleek, white workstations. Sa harap ng kwarto, nakaupo ang isang babaeng nakasuot ng oversized hoodie at salamin. She looked out of place in this world of elegance, but the way her fingers flew across the keyboard told me she was the one in control here.

“I am Bambi,” sabi niya nang hindi tumitingin sa amin. “And this is Class 1.1: Digital Sanitization. Today, we kill your ghosts.”

Tumayo siya at humarap sa amin. Her eyes were sharp behind her glasses. “To be a Mistress is to be a person without a past. If a client can G****e your real name, if they can find a photo of you from ten years ago, you are a liability. You are a vulnerability. Today, you will scrub your digital footprint until nothing remains but the alias we gave you.”

Naupo kami sa aming mga designated stations. Nang i-scan ko ang fingerprint ko, isang virtual screen ang lumitaw sa harap ko. Nanigas ako.

Bambi had already done the legwork. In front of me was a cloud-based folder that had been “recovered” from the dark web and old servers. It was the digital remains of Margo Valderama.

“Open your personal cloud files,” utos ni Bambi. “Every photo, every social media post, every email. Delete them all. If my system detects a single byte of your old life left in the ether after this class, you will be sent to the Cold Room for ‘manual’ reprogramming.”

I scrolled through the files. My heart started to thud against my ribs—a heavy, rhythmic drum of pain. There were photos of my graduation, emails to my mother about my debutante dress, and scanned copies of my academic awards.

And then, I saw it. A video file titled: Margo’s 16th—Sweet Victory.

Ang ingay ng Neural Hub ay biglang naglaho. Ang malamig at sterile na hangin ay napalitan ng amoy ng chocolate cake at ang bango ng mamahaling kandila.

Sa screen ng aking isipan, nakikita ko ang video. I was sixteen. I was wearing a crown of pearls, and my father was standing behind me, his hands on my shoulders. Pero hindi siya ang tinitingnan ko. Nakatitig ako sa lalaking may hawak ng camera.

“Margo, smile! Para kang nakakita ng multo!” It was Leo. His voice was full of life, teasing me as he zoomed in on my face. Nakita ko ang sarili ko sa video—tumatawa, walang kamuwang-muwang sa mundong malapit nang gumuho.

“Happy birthday, little sister,” sabi ni Leo sa video. “Next year, ako naman ang magpapahanda. I’ll make sure the whole Vespera knows that the Valderamas are unstoppable.”

He was laughing. That was the last time I saw him truly “alive.”

Pagkatapos ng Scandal, nang sumiklab ang apoy sa East Wing ng aming mansyon, ang tanging natira ay ang official report na binasa sa akin ng isang malamig na opisyal: No survivors found in the East Wing. The structural collapse was absolute. Naalala ko ang gabing iyon. I had screamed Leo’s name until my throat bled. I had tried to run into the flames, but Julian’s father had held me back. They told me he was ash. They told me he was gone. Every night for three years, I had replayed his laughter in my head just to remember that I wasn’t always alone.

“Eris. You’re stalling.”

Ang boses ni Julian Thorne ay parang isang talim na humiwa sa aking alaala. Lumingon ako at nakita siyang nakatayo sa likuran ko, ang kanyang anino ay bumabalot sa aking workstation. He had been watching me.

“Is there something in that folder you’re afraid to lose?” tanong niya, ang kanyang boses ay puno ng suspisya.

I looked at the screen. The video of Leo was still there, his pixelated smile mocking the silence of the room. This was the last piece of him. Once I clicked delete, the boy in the video would truly be dead. The memory would have no home but my decaying heart.

Naramdaman ko ang titig ni Julian sa batok ko. He was looking for a sign—a tear, a flinch, a hesitation. He wanted to know if Margo was still inside this shell.

I slowly moved the cursor to the ‘Select All’ button.

My heart felt like a graveyard—cold, silent, and filled with the bodies of those I loved. Pero ang mga mata ko? They remained dry. I had cried all my tears three years ago. There was nothing left but the salt and the fire.

Goodbye, Leo, I whispered in the depths of my mind. I’ll see you in the ashes.

Click.

The screen flickered. Deleting files… 10%… 45%… 100%.

“Empty,” I said, my voice as cold as the marble floor. “Nothing left to delete, Sir.”

I turned my head to look at Julian. I didn’t avoid his gaze. I challenged it. I let him see the void.

Julian’s eyes narrowed. I could see the confusion in his expression. He was disturbed—not because I was emotional, but because I wasn’t. My reaction wasn’t that of a broken girl; it was too similar to a soldier who had been trained to kill their own emotions for a mission.

“Done, Bambi,” sabi ko, tumayo na ako bago pa man niya ako payagan.

Bambi checked her monitor. “System is clean. Eris is… digitally deceased. Good job, Rank 15.”

Lumingon ako kay Dominique na kasalukuyan pang humihikbi habang binubura ang mga litrato ng kanyang pamilya. She was weak. She was still clinging to the ghost of who she was. Sa Sanctum, ang ganitong klaseng emosyon ay lason.

“Class dismissed,” anunsyo ni Bambi. “Except for Eris. The Conservator wants a word.”

Naiwan kami ni Julian sa Neural Hub habang nagsisilabasan ang ibang mga babae. Ang katahimikan sa pagitan namin ay punong-puno ng tension. Julian walked toward me, his presence suffocating.

“You didn’t even blink,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Kahit ang pinakamatitigas na Proteges na pumasok dito, umiiyak sa unang araw ng Digital Sanitization. Even Dominique cried for an hour when she did this.”

“Maybe they had something worth crying for,” sagot ko.

“And you?” Julian stepped closer, his hand reaching out to grab my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Wala ka bang kahit anong pinahahalagahan? O sadyang wala ka lang talagang puso?”

“Tinanggalan niyo na ako ng pangalan, ng damit, at ng nakaraan,” sabi ko, ang boses ko ay banayad pero may talim. “Bakit niyo pa hinahanap ang puso ko? Diba ang sabi sa Rule Number Six: Emotion is a defect?”

Julian’s grip on my jaw tightened. His eyes were searching mine, desperate to find a crack in the porcelain. “You’re a fast learner, Eris. Masyadong mabilis. It makes me wonder… if you were already a ghost long before I found you in the Iron Roots.”

“Maybe I was,” I whispered. “And ghosts don’t feel pain, Julian. They only feel the need to haunt.”

He let go of me suddenly, as if he had been burned. He turned his back, his posture rigid. “Get out. Tomorrow is Refinement. Make sure you don’t fail, because if you do, not even your ‘ghost’ will survive.”

I walked out of the Neural Hub, my head held high. Paglabas ko sa corridor, naramdaman ko ang panginginig ng aking mga tuhod, pero hindi ko hinayaang makita iyon ng mga cameras.

The video of Leo was gone. The records of my father were deleted.

I was now a blank slate. A beautiful, empty vessel.

Pero sa loob-loob ko, habang naglalakad ako patungo sa West Wing, alam kong nagkamali si Bambi. Hindi nila napatay ang mga ghost ko. In fact, by deleting them from the world, they just made sure those ghosts would live inside me forever.

I entered the dorms and sat on my bed. Lulu was crying softly in the corner, clutching a small locket she had managed to hide. Dominique was staring blankly at the wall.

I reached into my pocket and felt the charred scrap of my mother’s robe.

They can delete the data. They can burn the records. They can scrub the skin.

But they can’t delete the memory of the blood on the lilies. They can’t delete the sound of the fire.

Julian is disturbed because he knows something is wrong. He feels the predator in the room, but he can’t see the claws because they are hidden behind my “Queen’s grace.”

Rank 15 is no longer just a number to me. It’s a camouflage.

“One week,” bulong ko sa sarili ko habang nakatingin sa dambuhalang orasan sa pader. “One week to prove I’m a doll. And a lifetime to prove I’m their nightmare.”

I lay down, the silence of the Sanctum wrapping around me like a cold shroud. The first part of Margo Valderama was dead.

And as I fell into a dark, dreamless sleep, I knew that the next time Julian looked into my eyes, he wouldn’t find a girl. He would find the graveyard he helped build.

And in a graveyard, the only thing that moves is the vengeance of the dead.