The Corpse Code

In the neon glare of Sector 12, rain sluiced off high glass towers and trickled into narrow alleys where secrets lay in wait. Detective Mira Han zipped her leather coat up to her chin, her cybernetic eye scanning through data streams only she could see.

She’d just received the case code on her wrist implant: Corpse Code 800.

A body found. Clues embedded directly in the flesh.

It was the third Corpse Code in two weeks. The pattern was unmistakable. Someone was using corpses as message boards.

Mira arrived at the crime scene, a rooftop over the BioPhage labs. Hover drones circled, casting blue strobing light over the body. Techs in white suits stepped aside as Mira approached.

The victim was a man, mid-30s, skin pale as marble, eyes open in a glassy stare. Across his chest, carved deep into the flesh, was a series of letters and numbers:

AF72-3X14 // LUMINA

Mira spoke into her comm. “Run a trace on AF72-3X14. And find me anything connected to Lumina.”

A soft ping answered her moments later. The code matched a shipment record from BioPhage—genetic samples, flagged as confidential. And “Lumina” was a codename that hadn’t appeared in official databases for over a decade.

Back then, Lumina had been a rumored project. A biotech program aiming to “enhance human cognition” using neural DNA splicing. The project went silent after a catastrophic lab fire killed half its staff.

Or so everyone thought.

Mira straightened, rain dripping off her hair.

At 2 a.m., Mira pushed through the glass doors of BioPhage’s security office. Dr. Yvonne Parris, head of BioPhage research, waited, arms crossed.

“I heard you found another one,” Parris said, voice tight. “What was carved this time?”

Mira projected the hologram of the chest carving.

Parris blanched. “Lumina… I haven’t heard that name in years.”

Mira’s mechanical eye whirred. “I think you have. And I think someone is trying to tell me Lumina never ended.”

Parris hesitated. Then sighed. “Lumina didn’t end. It went underground. After the fire, certain investors demanded secrecy. The idea was to create memory implants. Perfect recall, photographic memory, computational thinking. We were close… too close.”

“Close to what?” Mira demanded.

“Creating people who couldn’t forget. Anything. Ever.” Parris’ eyes were haunted. “It wasn’t just memories they retained. It was pain, trauma, grief. Their minds collapsed.”

Mira felt a chill. “So this body… he was part of Lumina?”

Parris nodded. “He was a courier for the last prototypes. He vanished a week ago.”

Mira studied her. “And the code on his chest?”

Parris swallowed. “Those are vials. Genetic memory strands. Whoever killed him wants us to know the Lumina samples are still out there.”

By dawn, Mira was on the move again. She tracked the shipment code to a derelict warehouse near the docks. Inside, crates were stacked like tombstones. She slipped her gun from its holster as she crept among shadows.

A voice drifted out of the darkness. “Detective Han. You’re as good as they say.”

A man stepped forward. Dark hair, sunken eyes. On his neck, a scar shaped like circuitry.

“You were in Lumina,” Mira said.

He smiled thinly. “I am Lumina.”

“Why the murders?”

“Because they lied to us,” he said, eyes shining with something wild. “They turned us into living servers. Our memories aren’t private. Corporations are bidding for the data inside our heads. I carved those codes to expose them.”

Mira lowered her gun slightly. “So you killed those men?”

“They were stealing the samples to sell on the black market. I couldn’t let that happen.”

He pulled a vial from his coat—silver fluid glittered inside. “This holds ten million memories. Including the truth about BioPhage. If I release this into the Net, it will bring them down.”

Mira’s mind raced. “Or it’ll crash half the city’s systems. That much data flooding the grid—people could die.”

He shook his head. “No more secrets.”

“Think about it!” Mira snapped. “You release that data, you hurt innocent people. Let me take you in. Testify. We’ll make it public the right way.”

He hesitated, vial trembling in his fingers.

A siren wailed outside. The place flooded with flashing lights as BioPhage security arrived, weapons drawn.

“Drop the vial!” one of them shouted.

The man looked at Mira, eyes full of anguish. Then he flung the vial high into the air. Mira dove, catching it before it hit the concrete.

The man didn’t resist as the guards surrounded him. He simply whispered: “Don’t let them bury Lumina again.”

Hours later, Mira stood at the precinct window, rain still falling like static over the city. She turned the vial over in her hand, watching it shimmer with secrets.

Some truths were too big to stay hidden. And some codes…

Well, some codes were carved too deep to ever disappear.