The search didn't return a list of links. Instead, it returned a mosaic of noise. Random pixels, fragments of other people's lives, advertisements for products that no longer existed. It was like looking at a shattered kaleidoscope. This was the 'rust'—the oxidized layers of the internet.

Orion watched her go, then turned back to his screen. He closed the terminals and wiped the cache. He was an Oxider. He had retrieved the metal, but the rust was where he lived. He cracked his knuckles and opened a new search bar.

The sign above the heavy oak door didn't say "Private Investigator." It read: Orion Vale – Data Retrieval.