The demonstration was never announced publicly.
That was the first mistake.
The second was believing that silence would keep it contained.
---
The room chosen for the showcase sat on the upper floor of Oneiro Rewear's old colonial-era building—high ceilings, wide windows, and walls thick enough to keep sound from traveling. Only twelve guests were invited. Investors. Industry representatives. Two academics. One government observer.
No cameras.
No recordings.
"Control the environment," Jayantara said as they prepared. "Minimal activation. No emotional triggers."
Danindra nodded, though his chest felt tight.
The unnamed thread rested inside a glass housing, suspended between two neutral fabric samples.
AI Kira monitored every variable.
> SYSTEM STABLE
THREAD RESONANCE: LOW
Too low, Danindra thought.
---
The guests arrived quietly.
Polite smiles. Professional curiosity.
One of the investors leaned closer to the glass.
"So this is it?" he asked. "The thing everyone's whispering about?"
"It's not a thing," Danindra replied. "It's a process."
The man chuckled. "Everything is a thing once it makes money."
---
The demonstration began.
Danindra activated the base sequence.
The thread glowed—soft, restrained. The fabric around it relaxed, smoothing as if exhaling.
Murmurs filled the room.
"It's subtle," someone said.
"That's the point," Danindra replied.
Then someone asked the wrong question.
"What happens if you push it?"
The silence that followed was sharp.
---
AI Kira issued a warning.
> COLLECTIVE ATTENTION SPIKE DETECTED
RESONANCE INCREASING WITHOUT COMMAND
Danindra's pulse jumped. "I didn't authorize—"
The thread brightened.
Not violently.
Eagerly.
It was responding to the room.
---
Across the city, Wirasmi staggered.
Her breath caught as if a hand had closed around her chest.
"They're pulling," she whispered, gripping the doorframe of the old listening hall. "They don't know how."
The fabric she carried vibrated—distressed.
---
Back in the showcase room, the glow deepened to gold threaded with teal.
The air felt warm.
Too warm.
"This is incredible," one guest murmured, stepping closer.
Another reached out.
"Don't touch—" Danindra started.
Too late.
---
The moment skin met glass, the thread flared.
Not brighter—
Wider.
The hum surged through the building, through the street, through the city's hidden veins.
Every piece of Oneiro fabric in GarudaCity responded at once.
Customers paused mid-step.
Seamstresses froze.
Machines stuttered, then calmed.
The city inhaled.
---
Then the tear happened.
A sound like silk ripping—but deeper.
The glass housing cracked.
The thread recoiled, light collapsing inward.
Alarms screamed.
> CONTAINMENT FAILURE
RESONANCE CASCADE IMMINENT
"Shut it down!" Jayantara shouted.
"I can't!" Danindra yelled. "It's not listening to commands—it's reacting!"
---
In LionCity Raya, Ace's eyes snapped open.
"That's it," he said quietly. "They touched it."
He stood, already moving.
---
The light vanished.
The thread went dark.
The room fell silent.
No explosion.
No damage.
Just twelve people standing very still, hearts pounding.
The glass lay fractured.
The thread inside was… gone.
---
Across GarudaCity, the hum faltered.
Not disappeared.
Misaligned.
Wirasmi sank to her knees, breath shaking.
"It's lost," she whispered. "Not broken. Lost."
---
Back in the room, the government observer cleared his throat.
"Well," he said carefully, "this changes the conversation."
Danindra stared at the empty housing, chest hollow.
"This was never supposed to be a spectacle," he said.
No one answered.
Outside, GarudaCity continued its day.
But something that once moved quietly through its fabric now drifted—unanchored.
And for the first time, the thread was no longer choosing who could feel it.
It was choosing where to hide.