With six people bundled up in one room, Walter’s office no longer seems as spacious as what it usually does. 

Walter sits behind his mammoth desk, the pair of solemn police officers staring at him with cool, assessing eyes. The lanky computer geek who they’d decided to string along with them sits beside the basalt-haired detective.

Meanwhile, Simon and I stand in a sunless corner diagonally behind Walter, neither one of us daring to breathe a word. 

Detective Basalt leans forward, interlocking his slim fingers on the wooden surface before him. "I presume you already know why we’ve decided to pay you a visit, Dr. Steele."

I can almost hear Walter swallow. "I have no doubt that your conspiracy theories have delivered you at my doorstep."

Basalt’s eyes turn to slits. "What conspiracy theories?"

"Those that claim the Neuro-Circuit is behind the unexplainable attacks that have recently occurred."

"You’re not entirely wrong, Dr. Steele," the other detective cuts in, his curly black-pepper hair gleaming with way too much gel. "But ‘conspiracy theories’ isn’t the term I’d have used. I would have referred to the factor that drove us here as ‘justifiable suspicions about the true intention of your clever invention’."

"The true intention of the NC is to aid the human mind," Walter defends.

"And yet it seems to have deviated from its purpose," Pepper Head retorts. 

Detective Basalt clears his throat, dragging Walter’s attention away from his indelicate partner. "This is Ellius Peterson." He tilts his head to his left, towards the five-foot-ten tower of skin and bone proudly occupying the seat beside him. "Cyber-security analyst."

Walter doesn’t even bother to acknowledge the young male, seeming far too interested in the stress ball he now squeezes and moulds in his left hand, each contraction of his fingers harder than the last.

"We’d brought him with us as corroboration for our… findings."

"What findings?"

Basalt’s lips quirk slightly. "Tell us, Ellius, what you came across."

Ellius’s body gently slopes forward, his torso almost pressing against the edge of the desk. "Well, I had first inspected the Neuro-Circuit app of fifteen users who had felt… the unusual compulsion to act wickedly."

Right. I had completely forgotten about the app. Simon had created and installed it onto my phone years ago, syncing it with the chip beneath my skull. The piece of software can allow its users to monitor their brainwaves, view their hormone production or interact with memories (either by revisiting them—or by deleting them, as I had allowed Walter to do for me).

"And I had discovered that their mental files were either glitching, corrupted or missing. Those symptoms pointed to a viral infection."

Just as Walter had informed us earlier.

"Any idea where this virus could’ve come from, Dr. Steele?" Pepper Head lifts a shameless brow.

"As I said before, the NC helps people. Both physically and psychologically. Whatever is going on with those users… I don’t understand it."

"You don’t believe it’s possible that some kind of digital disease could’ve slipped past the NC’s defences?"

"Not at first, no… but now… now I’m not so sure."

The uncertainty in his voice makes my heart crack.

"I’d like to examine the infected users myself," Walter requests. "To ensure—"

"No need," Basalt interrupts. "Ellius had already traced the source of the virus."

I couldn’t see his face, but judging by his silence, the detective’s confession had caught Walter off guard.  

"You know, Walter, my partner and I were actually hoping that you would just come clean—utilize the opportunity we gave you to be honest. But I guess you thought yourself a genius capable of covering up your tracks." Basalt shakes his head. "For a smart man, your work was disappointingly sloppy."

"What are you talk—"

"I had a surgeon order several of your Neuro-Circuits and hand them over to me. I then let Ellius examine the contents of the NC using your app. And guess what else he stumbled upon…" A cruel smirk tugs at the side of his mouth. "Right there, hidden amongst other programs and those security barriers you’d pulled up around the NC, was a Trojan, secretly installed onto each and every chip."

Simon had gone completely still beside me, his muscles taut, his breathing non-existent. And I… I can hardly process everything that is being said.

"The virus," Ellius begins to explain, "gradually reprograms the user’s morals, dilutes their conscience… like a devil perched atop their shoulders."

The voice. The voice that had told me to attack Helen…

It's a virus.

"When I’d tried to eliminate the virus on the NCs of those fifteen users," Ellius proceeds, "the anti-malware program could not recognize it as a threat."

"Thankfully," Pepper interjects, "we have a hardworking team of cyber security professionals working on finding a solution at this very moment."

Walter’s incredulous laughter shakes his body. "You can’t be serious! Why would I ever do such a thing? Throw my creation, my success, my dream, down the drain for—for what, exactly?"

Pepper smiles. "We never said you downloaded the Trojan onto the chips. There are no conspicuous strings tying you to the virus."

"Then why am I a suspect?"

"The answer is pretty obvious, is it not? As the proud creator of the Neuro-Circuit, which has already proven itself to be a danger to society, you must face the consequences."

"And failure to comply with the law will only lead to additional charges," Basalt continues. "However, if you want to avoid any further punishment, I suggest that you lend us a hand in our investigation. Perhaps you can tell us how to stop this virus?"

"If I knew how to do that, then I would’ve said so," Walter snaps.

A heartbeat of silence before—

"Just a question, Walter, out of my own curiosity: If the Neuro-Circuit is such a miracle-working masterpiece, then how come you haven’t received the implant?" He cocks his head to the side, the movement like that of a predator. "Cold feet?"

Walter’s hand tightens around the stress ball, veins popping through his skin. "I don’t quite trust anyone enough to have them place a blade against my scalp. Unless, of course, that surgeon happens to be me."

"Mm, a funny thing to say," Pepper comments, "considering how one of your patients died beneath your bloodied hands."

The sally strikes me across the head so hard I can barely understand it, unable to figure out the context behind the statement.

"Do you have something against me, Detective Ambrose?" Walter grits out.

So that’s his name.

"Not at all, Steele. I just find it frustrating that the system seems so opposed to enforcing justice."

"Those people had willingly agreed to have the NC implanted in their brains."

"Yes, after you promised them that their safety was a guarantee."

"It is. It’s always been—"

"I pity you for the situation you’re in, Doctor, I really do." Basalt’s voice isn’t even close to sounding sincere. "But unfortunately, we have no other choice but to place you under arrest."

[1186 words]