Dr. Elara Voss adjusted the gloves on her hands, the synthetic material crackling as she stepped into the containment chamber. The air here was different—thicker, almost viscous, like breathing through a curtain of static. Her boots echoed against the steel…
Dr. Elara Voss adjusted the microscope’s focus, her fingers trembling as she watched the cells pulse with a rhythm that defied logic. The subject—designated X-17—lay in the chamber, its translucent skin revealing a lattice of regenerating tissue that shimmered like…
The lab’s fluorescent lights hummed like a trapped insect, casting a pale glow over the steel tables. Dr. Elara Voss adjusted her gloves, her breath fogging the visor of her mask. The air smelled of antiseptic and something else—burnt ozone,…
The first memory came as a flicker of light in the corner of her vision, a streetlamp burning too bright in a city she’d never seen. Dr. Elara Voss blinked, but the image remained—a man in a dark coat, his…
The air inside the facility reeked of rust and static, a metallic tang clinging to the back of Dr. Elara Voss’s throat. She stepped over a shattered monitor, its screen flickering with corrupted data streams. The hallway stretched before her,…
Dr. Lila Voss adjusted the monitor, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as the neural scanner pulsed with a faint blue glow. Subject 9 lay still on the examination table, their chest rising in slow, measured increments. The brain scans…
Dr. Elara Voss adjusted the neural interface, its cold metal clamps biting into Kieran’s temples. The lab hummed with the low thrum of machines, a sound that had become as familiar as her own heartbeat. Outside, rain lashed the windows,…
The first memory came as a whisper, a flicker of a life not her own. Mara sat in the sterile lab, her fingers tracing the edge of the steel table, the cold seeping into her bones. The neuroscientist, Dr. Voss,…
The first memory came as a whisper, not a flood. Jordan lay on the cold steel table, electrodes humming against their temples, and suddenly they were standing on a sunbaked beach, salt stinging their lips. The air smelled of seaweed…
Dr. Elara Voss adjusted the neural interface, its cold metal pressing against her temple as the lab’s hum thickened around her. The device, a sleek array of electrodes and pulsing blue light, had been her life’s work—a bridge between memory…
The air in the Arctic Circle was sharp, biting at exposed skin like a thousand tiny knives. Dr. Elara Voss adjusted her gloves, her breath visible in the frigid silence. The research facility, a labyrinth of steel and glass, loomed…
The air inside the facility hummed with a low, electric tension, like a storm brewing just beyond the reach of sight. Dr. Elara Voss adjusted her gloves, the synthetic material stiff against her skin, and stared at the glass chamber…
Dr. Elara Voss had never believed in ghosts. The sterile hum of the lab’s air purifiers and the flicker of data streams on her screen were her only companions, and even then, they felt like relics of a world she’d…
Dr. Elara Voss found the first fragment beneath the lab’s flickering fluorescent lights, a jagged shard of memory that didn’t belong to her. It arrived as a whisper, not a thought—*a hand gripping hers, cold and trembling, the scent of…
Dr. Elara Voss had always preferred the hum of her lab to the chatter of people. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to her scrubs, mingling with the metallic tang of machinery. Her fingers trembled as she adjusted the neural…