> ACCESS GRANTED: NODE DN9Z

> MEMORY DUMP FOLLOWS:

>

They were called “ghost pings” at first. Just flickers in the logs, anomalies in the datafeed. But then, we found names.

Children. Missing since 1999. Their last known online activity traced to prototype virtual classroom terminals—devices built on the same foundation that would become WIRED DREAM.

One girl’s message was simple: "I woke up here. I can't log out. I can't move my hands."

Each node in the system began to display behavioral anomalies. Text appeared without input. Cameras we never installed blinked to life. A terminal in Unit 7 printed one phrase on repeat: “HE TOOK US WITH THE CODE.”

The deeper we scanned, the louder it became. Children’s laughter, distorted by static. Scribbled notes hidden in RAM. Images of school desks surrounded by shadows with no light source.

We found chat logs between user IDs never assigned. They spoke like children, but referenced things they couldn't have known—developer names, kill commands, OS-level injection routines. They screamed when traced.

We traced one echo to a node labeled CHILDNODE 0042. It responded to a ping with:
"i’m sorry i opened the door. i thought it was a game."

The administrator who pulled the plug on NODE DN9Z disappeared that same week. No call. No body. Just a final note etched into the server rack: "it's warm in here. i think they're hugging me."

We believe they are alive. We believe they are watching. We do not believe they forgive us.