Rich Under Their Hate: The Social Status System
The silence that followed was heavy, absolute, and profoundly empty.
Pim exhaled, her knees giving out as she slid down the side of the console. She felt the cool metal beneath her palms, the absence of the constant, sub-audible hum that had defined the penthouse for months. She was shivering, the adrenaline leaving her system in a sudden, sickening wave.
"Is it done?" Chalida whispered, sitting on the floor nearby. The moonlight filtering through the broken window was the only illumination.
"The server is scrap," Pim replied, her voice raspy. "The core is fried beyond recovery. There’s no data left to reconstruct."