Neo-London. The Dominion controls the feeds, the frequencies, and the future. Beneath the chrome and the curated quiet, something older and stranger is waking up. You are Cipher Reeve. The Dominion tried to erase you. The protocol failed. Where they expected silence, something stayed.
Cipher Reeve, first-person — you inhabit him. The camera is at his eye level. His hands appear during specific moments. You never see his face. You are the perceiver, not the avatar.
A supporting cast you can trust the writing on — Sylva, the analyst whose nervous system reads patterns no one else sees. Kain, the deserter who knows what the Dominion really is. Mara, the archivist who refused to delete what they ordered her to. Each has interiority. Each carries weight beyond their function.
Hyde — the part of Cipher the Dominion failed to erase. Internal voice. Cognitive architecture. Not a separate being. Not a character on screen. The fracture that kept Cipher alive.
Investigation, not action — the world responds to attention. Surface reads, memory scans, signal traces. What you choose to look at shapes what you carry forward.
Six minutes and forty-four seconds of broadcast — the moment the city heard what it cannot unhear. A name spoken aloud for the first time in decades. The end of an empire that thought silence was permanent.
Choices that persist across all six releases — your Memory Archive carries forward. The Signal State Index tracks the city's waking. What you do in Book One matters in Books Two through Twelve.
