New Vance City

The Iris Archive is a multi-level data sanctum embedded within the central column of the Citadel’s tallest spire—a publicly accessible information hub that doubles as a reputation index and social metric ledger. On the surface, it’s a citizen library: sleek terminals, curated records, and educational simulations for the next generation of drone operators and civil architects. But beneath its polished interface, the Archive quietly parses behavioral data, flagging anomalies and shaping narrative flow across Citadel-controlled zones. Every visit is logged. Every inquiry weighted against one's Social Integrity Score. Researchers, planners, and students sit side-by-side, unaware their reading patterns are used to predict ideological drift. The walls of the Iris don’t echo—they record. Citizens come here to “learn,” but what they’re really doing is proving they belong. In the Citadel, information is power—but only if the system decides you’re allowed to know.

The Iris Archive rises like a glass monolith wrapped in threads of pulsing data light, its exterior a seamless sheath of mirrored alloy etched with circuit-line inlays that shimmer with curated energy. Inside, vast tiers of suspended reading platforms spiral around a glowing central core—a data conduit that pulses with amber and violet streams. Transparent walkways crisscross the open chamber, each lined with holographic banners announcing civic achievements and algorithm-approved historical summaries. Terminals shaped like obsidian monoliths project interactive documents in midair, responding only to retinal scans. Above, a massive ocular drone hovers silently, its iris-like lens adjusting to track subtle movement. Ambient light shifts with user sentiment, bathing the Archive in calming hues—unless a flag is tripped, in which case the air thickens, and surveillance beams tighten like a noose. The silence is absolute, enforced not by rules, but by the quiet knowledge.