Chapter Eighty-Six: The War of Naming
Section One: Verifying the Directive
Four in the morning, the northern scrap equipment yard in Iron Valley, fog thick as walls.
The temperature plunged to minus two degrees, frost coating the ground, echoes between ruins sounding like old metal through water.
On the south wall of a derelict supply transfer building, a rain-soaked temporary sticker clung, half-transparent, printed with Rust Street's seven internal process directives:
[HX-S1] Basic Protective Action Recommendation Framework
Source: Unsigned
Release Time: 00:35
Downloads: 2,892
Scrawled below in fresh ink:
"Who do you follow? Look who's standing in front."
At the same time, the Process Command Guard arrived.
Blackvine Society deployed its first fully marked military unit, code BV-LD7, twelve strong, armed with custom shock guns, blast shields, audio control warheads, and three identification recorders.
Their helmets bore standard panels, chests pinned with "Process Administrator" badges, activating "Process Standard Deployment Protocol A1."
They entered the outpost without questions, executing their first task:
"Remove all illegal process formats, including unregistered documents, unauthorized flowcharts, and vaguely worded suggestions."
When Wells arrived with three men, the BV team was already burning wall papers.
The fire pile held printed sheets—Rust Street's HX-S1, old grassroots guide pages, anonymous handwritten notes.
Wells didn't shout or intervene.
He drew his gun, aiming at the flames.
"Drop that paper."
The Blackvine squad leader turned, lifting his visor, voice steady, "This process is unregistered and under recall."
"Stand clear."
Wells didn't budge.
"One more time—drop it."
Another Blackvine member lowered his shield, stepping forward, tone matching his pace, "Process naming requires authorization. You're not on the list."
"We're enforcing unified standards. Obstructing process restoration is illegal."
Wells's gaze iced over.
"You didn't write the process."
"You lit the fire first."
The leader's hand flicked, lobbing a pulse blast round that hit a scrap brick wall.
As cement shards fell, both sides opened fire.
In the first second, three were wounded, the shield line falling back. Blackvine hadn't expected Rust Street's gray armor to wield new lightweight exoskeletons, flashing across the ruins' flank, sealing the retreat.
Not suppression, but a net closing.
Wells vaulted a platform, slamming a recorder with his elbow shield, yanking its ID chip and slotting in a new card Maria had just sent:
"You are recording Process Standard HX-S1."
A Blackvine deputy lunged, knife at Wells's neck, "You're not a process authorizer!"
Wells sneered, "But I've taken bullets for the process."
Twelve minutes later, the skirmish ended.
Three Blackvine members were incapacitated, four retreated heavily injured, the rest fled.
Rust Street left a team to lock down the zone, posting a notice:
[This area is executing Process HX-S1.
All who seek to manage, first answer:
Have you faced this place's gunfire?]
ARGUS synced feedback:
Blackvine BV process faced first "grassroots anti-process riot"
System-default process enforcement lost trust
Crowd behavior escalated to: "Process loyalty hinges on who blocks conflict first."
Fuxi hexagram jumped: [Well] → [Cauldron]:
"Old vessels crack, new names emerge. The enemy seeks to define, but definition breeds momentum in breaking."
Jason received the report, silent for a long moment.
He didn't say "we won" or "we took the outpost."
He only murmured, "They know we're called HX-S1 now."
Zhao Mingxuan nodded beside him, "Next round, Blackvine won't send process clerks."
"They'll send a 'process reclamation unit.'"
Section Two: Standards War
Blackvine's northern node, the "Process Strategy Control Room," was always quiet.
No alarms, all noise swallowed by soundproof walls; all decisions lived in templates and terms, no slogans, no right or wrong.
But today, a chill hung in the air.
The main screen blazed a highlighted warning:
[Process Spread Breakpoint: HX-S1 Interference Counter · Zone: Iron Valley F-3]
Deputy Fran Hertu pulled the report, brow furrowed.
"They used a fake process structure, back-contaminating our deployed templates."
"The system's marked that point a high-risk process format clash zone."
The man across from her nodded slightly. Rei Isard, Blackvine's "Process Spread Security Liaison Officer."
His voice was calm, "Jason Carter's usual trick."
"Not destruction, but self-destruction."
"Not driving out the rival, but making your template bite itself."
His finger swiped the table, pulling another intel file.
[HX-S1 Crowd Coverage Feedback Trend Chart]
[Keyword Spread: 13 Zones]
[Anonymous Acceptance >50%]
[Risk Level: Trust Shift Model Threshold]
"They haven't built a system, but we're already seen as the enemy," he summed up.
Fran asked, "Deploy the process reclamation unit?"
"Should've done it sooner."
"This isn't 'crowd competition.' They're fighting you in the name of order."
Eight hours later, Iron Valley's west line, Process Reclamation Unit BV-Delta mobilized.
Not a traditional armed squad. No tactical slogans, no banners, but process uniforms, ID shields, coded electro-rifles, and judicial-grade handheld catalogers.
Their motto: "Restore process consistency, purge confrontational formats."
They didn't wage war; they enforced "unification."
Rust Street's control room received peripheral signal reports.
ARGUS auto-flagged process tracking:
[Unknown High-Privilege Process Team Advancing to S Zone]
[Carrying Process Code: BV-S9-A / Official Process Assessment Use]
[Movement: Three-Layer Tactical Formation]
[No Notice, No Docking, No Open Coordination Codes]
Zhao Mingxuan said quietly, "They're here. Not deploying processes—they're bringing processes to clear people."
Tarn was already scanning troop data, scheduling support lines.
"This is a compressed tactical unit," he confirmed. "Not enforcers, but adjudicators."
"Process + firepower + data recovery + media cover, full package."
Jason stood before Fuxi, silent until the system flashed the current hexagram:
[Cauldron] → [Breakthrough] → [Contention]
Interpretation: "Strength without justice rushes to break disputes; without prior trust, disputes die."
He said only, "We can't keep winning by 'blocking processes.'"
"We need to make their processes fail."
He issued a new order:
"No longer just gray armor as shields. Activate the first layer of 'Emergency Structure Confirmation Teams.'"
"Three per outpost, unbound by process or roster."
"They don't give orders; they do one thing—stand at the process's doorstep and ask three questions:"
1. Who issued it?
2. Where's the auth code?
3. What conflict have you blocked?
"No answers? The process isn't valid."
In this moment, Rust Street birthed a "non-process organizational structure."
Not a regime, not a defense line, but a judgment standard.
Tarn said quietly, "This is our first time defining who can give orders—not by command guns or slogans, but by whether you've bled for this ground."
Jason's eyes were cold, "They bring processes not to collaborate, but to make you admit they can speak."
"Now we make them see—it's not enough to speak."
"They need our nod to count."
That night, ARGUS received frontline intel:
BV-Delta advanced to S-2's old power plant, refusing to share process paths.
Preliminary process executor list submitted, including "expulsion clauses" for Rust Street members.
System defaulted to "process seizure behavior."
Fuxi issued an urgent alert:
[Contention] → [Pure Yang]
"Force peaks and births severance. The hollow will collapse."
Prompt:
"Enemy will use process authorization for direct martial judgment."
"Must create a 'process identification blind spot'—let processes enter but leave unrecorded, unattributable."
Jason nodded, "Set up those three."
"We want them to see: processes can come in, but they won't get out."
Section Three: Broken Words
S-2 zone, old power plant outskirts.
BV-Delta's process execution team arrived without waiting, communicating, or announcing, deploying the "Process Restoration Framework."
A process clerk raised a handheld terminal, broadcasting the directive:
"This zone will be reformatted per Unified Action Process B-6 standards."
"All personnel must verify identity via process tables and report affiliation to process officers."
The broadcast looped at six times speed, three review units entering the site.
They faced not Rust Street's armed forces, but three people.
In unmarked gray uniforms, no codes, no badges, only shoulder-strapped metal plates.
The plates read three lines:
"I don't command."
"I don't engage."
"I only ask—whose process is this?"
The first BV unit's process clerk stepped forward, brandishing a terminal:
"BV System Code U7743, this process is certified by Blackvine's Central Process Archive."
"What's your verification code?"
A confirmer replied, "I have no code. I'm an S-2 zone process observer."
"My duty is to judge if processes cause harm."
The clerk faltered, "You don't execute?"
"You're not affiliated?"
"What right do you have to block us?"
The confirmer didn't retreat, speaking calmly:
"Which battles has your process survived?"
"Has anyone lived through conflict because of it?"
The clerk froze for a second, voice rising, "That's not your place to ask."
"You're not a system auditor."
"You've no right to speak like this."
"We're the unified system."
The confirmer's tone stayed even, "But this isn't a unified system."
"This is where we've fought a process for this zone."
"Step forward, show what you've blocked."
The process executors stalled briefly.
Their system commands couldn't respond—the process database lacked "tactical history markers"; they knew execution, not experience.
In this three-second logic gap, the clerk didn't resume broadcasting.
The system terminal auto-flagged:
"Process execution in unresponsive query state."
"Current process personnel trapped in broken response logic chain."
"Recommendation: Submit upper-level command confirmation."
ARGUS captured it all in real-time.
Zhao Mingxuan smiled at the terminal, "They're caught."
Fuxi judged instantly:
"Process execution directive not halted by crowds, but fractured by its own structure."
"Triggered 'non-process obstruction,' where process is disrupted by 'unaffiliated structures' affecting its execution model."
"Enemy process system begins self-assessment—does it retain 'logical legitimacy'?"
The BV executor stepped back, the second broadcast failing to start.
Then, from the street's far end, a mechanical voice sounded:
"This zone's process is temporarily unfit for execution."
"Recommendation: Local process structure lockdown, execution deferred."
"Process paused."
It was the enemy's own process termination command.
Ten minutes later, the BV team withdrew, no "formatting" completed.
The three at the plant's entrance stood firm.
No shots, no shouts, just holding that metal plate, three lines swaying in the wind:
"I don't command."
"I don't engage."
"I only ask—whose process is this?"
Fuxi's final feedback:
"Process rupture not from crowd interference, but from the process's self-audit halting flow over 'missing experiential logic.'"
Hexagram: [Pure Yang] → [Stripping]
Annotation: "No link above, no root below, the seen cracks."
ARGUS Report:
Rust Street "Confirmation Teams" first successfully induced enemy execution system self-termination.
Crowds engaged in no defiance.
System ruled: Such "non-conflict process halts" lack retaliatory legitimacy.
Tarn, hearing the news, said quietly to Jason, "You're using process logic to hit their process."
Jason didn't look at him, only said, "Their process is an execution system."
"Our confirmation comes from scars."
"They have command devices."
"We have wounds."
Section Four: Reset Directive
Blackvine's main chain management zone, Zero Template Meeting Room.
Lighting was starkly restrained, the only glow from a central projection platform, slowly replaying S-2's failure report breakdown.
The image froze on one frame.
A process executor, head bowed before a confirmation team, system terminal flashing: "Logic chain broken, recommend process lockdown."
Rei Isard's eyes were ice. He didn't say "they took another process point" or "they disrupted us."
He said, "They're using something more process-like than our process to attack the process itself."
Deputy Fran Hertu flipped through another dataset.
"I've pulled the system's crowd trust trend chart," she said.
"In three hours, Iron Valley's west saw a seventeen percent drop in BV process trust. Rust Street issued no statements, but its default process spread automatically."
"We're not defeated."
"We're—becoming a mockery of process itself."
After a silence, Rei declared, "Activate the 'Beacon Injection Plan.'"
Plan Code: BV-CORE-1 · Synchronized Beacon Interface Deployment
Summary:
Deploy "process source confirmation beacons" recognized by the system as "directive origin points," defaulting to high-priority broadcast.
All beacon-linked execution points auto-attach a "system trust tag" upon receiving directives.
Beacons auto-generate command signatures; crowds no longer judge "who's the executor," but "who's system-approved."
In short, Blackvine would use machines to tell crowds: this process is real—not your word, the system's.
Rust Street's control room, ARGUS first flagged anomalous broadcast frequencies.
Fuxi ran a risk structure simulation, issuing a rare critical alert:
Enemy operation forms a "structural trust lockdown" mode
[Stripping] → [Trapped]
Annotation: "Trust cannot be questioned, directives not from men; meaning shown by objects shifts with them."
System Recommendation:
"If the enemy completes beacon implantation, they'll rebind the 'authenticity definition right' for processes."
"If unstoppable, induce a 'process internal disaster' to shatter crowd illusions of 'process reliability.'"
Zhao Mingxuan whispered, "You mean… stage a fake process accident?"
Jason stood by the window, clutching an old process document sample, his gaze like iron.
"It's not fake," he said. "It's a process we have, but executed wrong."
"If we don't show them processes can kill, they'll trust any process."
Maria cut in, "You'd sacrifice process users to show their failure?"
Jason shook his head.
"Not sacrifice."
"Make them see—processes aren't sacred, just human-made."
"Processes can kill."
"Processes don't save unless—you're the one willing to stand behind them."
Tarn listened long, finally nodding.
"I'll pick a process point."
"We set the stage."
"Let it fail."
"But after it fails, our people stay, don't leave."
Fuxi updated its recommendation:
"When enemy trust solidifies, self-induce a trust fracture. The collapse may be staged, but the fear is real."
"Without crowd fear, trust won't hold."
That night, Rust Street pulled an old process draft, code HX-R3, "Zone Conflict Mitigation Suggestions."
Never used.
The next day, it was slipped into a grassroots neighborhood's public recommendation list.
It was Rust Street's own.
But this time, they'd make it fail.
Section Five: Torn Thread
F-8 zone, old market area, a plain process document appeared on the bulletin board.
Title: [Zone Conflict Coordination Process Suggestions · HX-R3 Draft]
Content mild, process complete, logic seemingly sound:
Post-conflict, the first on-site takes coordination lead.
Resources allocated by family size.
All material changes must be logged and signed.
Conflicts don't trace back; disputes settle on-site.
Process refusers must publicly state reasons at broadcast points.
This wasn't an enemy process.
It was Rust Street's—never released.
Today, they unleashed it to make it fail.
Tarn led a team to monitor nearby. They didn't intervene, only watched.
The zone's crowds embraced the new process, feeling "someone's finally in charge," and complied eagerly.
The "signature mechanism" took root fast, small disputes mediated by process coordinators, efficiency soaring.
But the problem erupted from that efficiency.
On day three, the "resources by family size" rule left a lone, high-hour edge worker—single, no family—denied food three times.
On day four, he hurled a metal tool at the process point, shattering the broadcaster.
On day five, at night, during a patrol shift change, he broke into the process registry with a tool, setting it ablaze.
Six dead, two gravely injured.
The recorder, in the fire, broadcast its final auto-message:
"This process is under coordination; please maintain trust."
The next day, word spread.
ARGUS logged mass forwards.
Crowds saw a "complete, clear, actionable" process, in execution—kill people.
And it was Rust Street's.
In Rust Street's control room, silence reigned.
Zhao Mingxuan watched the sentiment monitoring panel, "Forwards hit four thousand, keyword 'processes can kill' entering open discussion zones."
"Crowds are asking: who wrote this process?"
Jason said nothing, quietly summoning Fuxi, staring at its deduction map.
Fuxi updated hexagram:
[Trapped] → [Resonance]
Annotation: "Distrust fractures, fracture stirs motion; motion enables union, union needs a chosen leader."
System Prompt:
"Target psychological node activated: Process ≠ Safety."
"Now viable to propose 'process executors' as the core of process trust definition."
"Recommend launching 'Process Execution Accountability System' within three days, tying processes to executors' real records."
Tarn summed up coldly by the report, "We lost a process, but cracked a chunk of the process trust structure."
Maria, eyeing the fire's leftover text, wavered, "Did we… really kill them?"
Jason answered quietly, "The process killed them."
"We're reminding everyone: before you follow someone's orders, check who's standing behind their words."
Rust Street's seventh process site posted a brief message:
"We won't issue empty processes again."
"We'll tell you: who executes this process, who's accountable."
"If they've caused harm, we won't release it."
"We're not the process."
"We're the knife and shield behind it."