At 7:11 a.m., Raka was already standing in front of the office building.
Last night's message was still saved on his phone.
> **Don't come to the office tomorrow.**
He came precisely because of that message.
There were certain prohibitions that made people want to obey.
And there were others that made people want to know the reason behind them.
Raka entered through the side door.
The security guard merely nodded.
No one asked any questions.
No one stopped him.
As if nothing unusual were happening.
He climbed the stairs to the third floor.
His office was still empty.
He turned on the computer.
7:18 a.m.
Raka opened the SENTRA system.
**Integrated Personnel and Civil-Service Evaluation System.**
SENTRA was the regional government's pride and joy.
In meeting after meeting, the system was held up as proof of bureaucratic modernization.
No more decisions based on personal connections.
No more subjectivity.
No more games of self-interest.
Everything was based on data.
At least, that's what they always said.
Raka entered his credentials.
The main screen appeared.
A white-and-blue dashboard.
At its center was a sentence:
> **DATA-DRIVEN DECISIONS FOR AN OBJECTIVE BUREAUCRACY.**
Raka stared at the sentence for several seconds.
Then he gave a faint smile.
“If it's really objective,” he muttered, “why was I transferred without an official letter?”
He began opening his personnel history.
There were no changes.
His status was still active.
His position was still the same.
There was no record of a transfer.
No recommendation.
No decision.
Raka opened another menu.
**CAREER ANALYSIS.**
It contained a chart tracking employee development.
He entered several names.
The first name.
**Hendra Pratama.**
Hendra had once been one of the employees who most often helped Raka finish his work.
His performance was good.
He had never received a reprimand.
He had no record of misconduct.
Yet over the past four years, Hendra had been moved between units three times.
Raka opened his history.
**2022 — Planning Division.**
**2023 — Oversight Division.**
**2024 — District Office.**
**2025 — Secretariat.**
**2026 — Temporary Placement.**
Raka furrowed his brow.
Five placements in five years.
That was too many for someone with a performance record like Hendra's.
He opened the second employee.
**Maya Kartika.**
Maya had less time in service.
Her performance scores were average.
She had never ranked among the top three in an evaluation.
Yet in three years, she had received two promotions.
Raka opened the details.
There were no errors.
She met every requirement.
Her education matched.
Her years of service matched.
Her performance scores matched.
Her supervisor's recommendation was there.
Not a single document was problematic.
Raka opened the third name.
**Bram Santoso.**
The pattern was the same.
High performance scores.
Repeated promotions.
Strategic placements.
Then the fourth name.
The fifth.
The sixth.
Raka began taking notes.
He took a sheet of paper and drew two columns.
**THOSE WHO BENEFITED.**
**THOSE WHO KEPT GETTING MOVED.**
In less than an hour, he found a pattern that made his hand stop writing.
The first group always received better positions.
The second group was always reassigned.
Not once.
Again and again.
And strangely enough, almost everyone in the second group had one thing in common.
They had once been assigned to the same unit.
**Internal Oversight Unit.**
Raka opened the list of employees who had worked there over the past ten years.
Twenty-three names.
Of those twenty-three people, sixteen had been transferred more than three times.
Nine had been assigned far from the government center.
Four had never received a promotion despite meeting every requirement.
And three had resigned early.
Raka stared at the screen.
“Impossible.”
He opened the statistical data.
He entered the parameters.
**Relationship Between Work Units and Transfer Histories.**
SENTRA calculated.
A few seconds later, the result appeared:
**NO ANOMALIES FOUND.**
Raka let out a small laugh.
Not because it was funny.
Because he was starting to get angry.
“No anomalies?”
He ran the search again.
The result was the same.
**THE SYSTEM DECLARES THE DATA NORMAL.**
Raka leaned back.
He opened the SENTRA guidelines.
The first page read:
> The system uses objective data, performance indicators, organizational needs, competencies, and position history to determine employee career recommendations.
Raka read the sentence slowly.
Then he opened Hendra's data.
Performance score: **92**.
Competency: **highly suitable**.
Integrity: **high**.
Organizational needs: **available**.
Career recommendation: **rotation.**
Raka opened Maya's file.
Performance score: **74**.
Competency: **suitable**.
Integrity: **good**.
Organizational needs: **high**.
Career recommendation: **promotion.**
Raka fell silent.
He picked up his phone.
He searched for Hendra's number.
It was inactive.
He tried the old number.
It didn't connect.
Then he opened his contacts and found Surya's name.
He called.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“Do you know why Hendra has been transferred so many times?”
At the other end of the line, he heard a chair scrape.
“Why are you asking about Hendra?”
“I found a pattern.”
“What pattern?”
“Certain people keep getting transferred. Others keep getting promoted.”
Surya fell silent.
“Sir?”
“Raka, close that system.”
Raka was silent.
“Why?”
“Because you don't know what you're opening.”
“That’s exactly why I want to know.”
“Not everything needs to be known.”
“Then why are we working with a system that's supposed to be transparent?”
Surya didn't answer.
A few seconds later, he said:
“Come to my office.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
The call ended.
At 9:03 a.m., Raka arrived at the old archive room.
Surya was already waiting.
The room was rarely used.
Metal shelves lined the walls.
Old documents were stacked in dusty boxes.
Surya closed the door.
“Sit.”
Raka sat down.
Surya opened a folder.
“This is about SENTRA.”
Raka looked at the folder.
“You have documents?”
“Documents from before SENTRA.”
Surya took out several sheets of paper.
“Back then, every decision was still made manually.”
Raka read them.
Transfer lists.
Promotion lists.
Placement lists.
Then Surya showed him one page.
“Look at these names.”
Raka read them.
He recognized several names immediately.
Hendra.
Maya.
Bram.
And one other name.
**Raka Adinata.**
Raka looked up.
“What is this?”
“A recommendation list.”
“What year?”
“Two years ago.”
Raka read more carefully.
His name was listed under the group of employees recommended for promotion.
“If this was a promotion recommendation, why didn't I ever know about it?”
Surya looked at him.
“Because that recommendation never reached the decision stage.”
“Who canceled it?”
Surya shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Raka turned the page.
There was a stamp.
An initialed approval.
A document number.
Everything was official.
Legal.
But the recommendation had never appeared in the SENTRA system.
“Sir,” Raka said slowly.
“Yes?”
“If all these documents are official, why aren't they in the system?”
Surya gave a bitter smile.
“That is the question you should never have asked.”
At 11:27 a.m., Raka returned to his office.
He opened SENTRA once more.
This time, he wasn't searching for employee names.
He was searching for the **administrator**.
The user-access menu opened.
There was a list of accounts.
Primary Administrator.
Personnel Administrator.
Career Development Administrator.
System Administrator.
Raka checked the activity log.
Most of it had been recorded automatically.
Time.
Username.
Type of change.
Device address.
He scrolled down.
Then stopped.
There was activity performed at **2:13 a.m.**
User:
**ADMIN-ROOT.**
Raka furrowed his brow.
He opened the details.
There was no username.
No work unit.
No device identity.
Only one description:
**SYSTEM OVERRIDE.**
Raka swallowed.
He opened the history.
One change.
Two changes.
Ten.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
They had all occurred at the same time.
2:13 a.m.
And every change concerned the same employees.
Employees who received promotions.
Employees who were transferred.
Employees whose evaluations changed.
Raka opened one of the records.
An employee's performance score had changed from **68 to 91**.
The change occurred at 2:13 a.m.
He opened another name.
The performance score had changed from **88 to 71**.
2:13 a.m.
The next name.
A promotion recommendation had changed to rotation.
2:13 a.m.
Raka stared at the screen.
The system wasn't wrong.
The system only recorded what had been entered into it.
He began to understand something.
All this time, he had been looking for errors in the decisions.
When the real error might have occurred much earlier.
**In the data forming the basis of the decisions.**
His phone vibrated.
A message came in from Bima.
> **Brother Raka, don't open ADMIN-ROOT.**
Raka replied.
**Why?**
The next message came in.
> **Because that account shouldn't exist.**
Raka typed:
**Who has access?**
Bima didn't answer.
Raka waited.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Five minutes.
Then the final message arrived.
> **No one has access.**
Raka stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
> **But that account is always logged in.**
Raka slowly stood.
The room felt utterly silent.
He looked at SENTRA again.
In the corner of the screen was a small indicator:
**ADMIN-ROOT — ONLINE.**
Even though the clock read 11:41 a.m.
Raka didn't touch the keyboard.
He didn't move.
He only stared at the indicator.
Then a notification appeared.
**NEW ACTIVITY DETECTED.**
Raka opened the notification.
A new change had been recorded.
**Employee name: Raka Adinata.**
**Change type: Employment Status.**
**Time: 11:41.**
Raka froze.
He looked at his own profile.
Previous status:
**ACTIVE.**
Current status:
**PLACEMENT IN PROGRESS.**
A sentence appeared beneath it:
> **DESTINATION RECOMMENDATION NOT YET DETERMINED.**
Raka stared at the screen.
Someone was changing his status.
While he was watching.
And for the first time, Raka understood something far more terrifying than the missing transfer letter.
**The system wasn't searching for a decision.**
**The system was carrying out someone else's decision.**