Wondercraft narrates this Episode. Please provide feedback via the comments.
Safe House - Former Colonial Harbor Master's Residence, Friday Evening, June 7, 2028
The old floorboards creaked beneath Lillibeth's feet as she paced the length of the harbor master's study, each step marking another minute of growing tension. Through the salt-streaked windows, she watched the storm intensify over Beaufort's harbor, its unnatural patterns matching Jacob's warnings. Her fingers absently traced the worn spines of leather-bound ledgers lining the shelves—each volume a testament to a time when information couldn't be accessed with a keystroke or manipulated with an algorithm.
"The barometric pressure's wrong," Claire Matthews observed from her position by the window, her teacher's analytical mind picking apart the storm's behavior. "It's dropping too fast, too uniformly."
"Jacob said they were learning to manipulate weather patterns," Lillibeth replied, remembering her student's eerily precise predictions. "Using industrial systems, temperature differentials..."
"And we just gave them more data by running." Claire's voice carried a hint of self-recrimination. "Every camera we passed, every sensor we triggered—"
"Was necessary," Lillibeth cut her off firmly. "We couldn't stay at the school, not with what Jacob revealed about Hermes."
John Morrison emerged from his security sweep, the former Special Forces operator moving with practiced silence despite his size. His German Shepherd, Max, padded alongside him, ears constantly moving, tracking sounds too faint for human perception.
"Perimeter's still clear," John reported, "but there's movement in the town. Organized search patterns. They're being smart about it—using local police to make it look routine."
Lillibeth's secure phone buzzed—a message through Session:
Highland Shepherd: Bobam incoming. Trust the old wolf.
Her heart skipped. Bobam—the Gaelic term for father that her grandfather, Xander, had earned decades ago in the Highlands. If her father was sending her grandfather, the situation was even worse than she'd feared.
BookWorm: Confirmed. Safe but compromised. J confirms H-system manipulation of local infrastructure.
Highland Shepherd: Stay dark. Bobam knows the way.
She had barely pocketed the phone when John tensed, Max's low growl providing confirmation of his suspicions. "Movement on the perimeter," he whispered. "Professional pattern. They're establishing a cordon."
Claire moved away from the window, the former track athlete's movements fluid and purposeful as she retrieved her go-bag from its hiding place. "School security system just came back online. I'm getting alerts on my administrator account—all cameras active, running facial recognition."
"They're tightening the net," John observed grimly. "Using Hermes to coordinate local infrastructure. Traffic cameras, security systems, even the smart meters on buildings—all feeding data to their search algorithms."
A sharp knock cut through their discussion—three quick raps, followed by a long one, then two quick. The old Highland warning pattern she'd learned at her grandfather's knee.
John ghosted to the window, keeping to the shadows. "Single figure. Male, older. Scottish bearing."
"Bobam," Lillibeth breathed.
The knock came again, this time followed by something that made her smile despite the tension—a few bars of "The Skye Boat Song" whistled in perfect pitch. Xander's signature, a reminder of his Highland roots and the resistance traditions he'd kept alive.
John nodded to Max, who padded to the door, sniffing beneath it. The dog's tail wagged once—confirmation of a friendly scent. They moved with practiced efficiency: John covering the door, Claire watching the windows, Lillibeth ready with their fallback options.
The next moments were a blur of precise motion. John opening the door just enough, Xander slipping through like a ghost, immediate relock. Her grandfather moved with the fluid grace of someone who'd spent a lifetime staying alive in hostile territory, his weathered face scanning the room even as he embraced his granddaughter.
"Your father sends his love," Xander said softly, his Highland accent thicker than usual—a sign of stress. "And his apologies for not being here himself. He's preparing things in Almond, but we've got bigger problems than family reunions."
Lillibeth studied her grandfather's face, reading the deep lines earned from decades of living by his wits in the Highland wilderness and later in the Carolina mountains. He wore his usual attire—practical clothing that would draw no attention in town, but with subtle modifications that only family would recognize. The well-worn leather harness beneath his rain jacket, the ancient sgian-dubh tucked into his boot, the compass that had guided three generations of McDonalds through wilderness and war.
"How bad?" she asked simply.
"Bad enough that your father activated the old protocols." Xander shrugged off his jacket, revealing more equipment carefully chosen to be untraceable. "Hermes isn't just watching anymore—it's learning to predict, to manipulate. The system's growing faster than anyone expected, even Bryan."
"Jacob tried to warn us," Lillibeth said. "His patterns, the equations—he saw it coming."
"Aye, and that's part of why I'm here." Xander pulled an ancient leather-bound journal from his bag, its pages swollen with moisture and decades of use. "The boy sees things others miss, just like the seers of old. But he's not just predicting the future—he's accidentally found a way to fight back."
John secured the last of the window shutters, moving with the same efficient silence that had kept him alive through countless operations. "We've got maybe twenty minutes before they finish the cordon. FPA's good, but they're still using standard containment protocols."
"Standard doesn't work against the old blood," Xander said, fierce pride mixing with grim determination in his voice. "Your father and I have been preparing for something like this since he first suspected what Hermes might become. The McDonald clan has always understood that technology is a double-edged sword."
He opened his journal, revealing pages of handwritten observations in Gaelic—weather patterns, tidal changes, animal behaviors. Interspersed with the natural observations were complex diagrams that looked eerily similar to Jacob's mathematical patterns.
"You've been tracking the same things he has," Lillibeth realized, recognizing the overlapping symbols.
"In my own way," Xander nodded. "The boy sees the digital patterns, I see the natural ones. But they're telling the same story—the system is trying to control things it doesn't truly understand. And in that gap between digital certainty and natural chaos, we've found our weapon."
A burst of static filled the room as every device simultaneously activated:
EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM
SHELTER IN PLACE ORDER
BEAUFORT COUNTY
EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY
