## The Scent Collector The chipped Formica countertop smelled of disinfectant and regret. Dr. Aris Thorne traced the rim of a lukewarm coffee cup, eyes fixed on the data scrolling across three monitors. Numbers bled into waveforms, chaotic yet meticulously…
## The Static Bloom The dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight slicing through the greenhouse glass. Old Man Tiber, they called him, though nobody’d seen him truly *old*, just…worn. He adjusted the humidity gauge, his knuckles bone-white…
## The Static Bloom The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt cold under Leo Maxwell’s elbows. Rain lashed against the window, blurring the neon glow of “Rosie’s” into smeared pink and blue. He hadn’t touched his coffee, the steam…
## The Bloom Room The chipped Formica tabletop felt cold under Elara’s elbows. Steam rose from her mug, smelling faintly of lavender and something metallic, like old pennies. She traced the rim with a fingertip, watching the condensation bead. Six…
## The Static Bloom The dust tasted like old pennies and regret. Dr. Aris Thorne swiped a gloved hand across the viewport, blurring the already hazy ochre landscape. Below, the geodesic domes of Lunar Base Seven shimmered under a weak…
The chipped ceramic of the mug warmed Leo’s palms, a pathetic comfort. Below, the city breathed a bruised purple, a constant twilight born of stacked hab-blocks and light-dampening polymers. He hadn’t spoken to his sister, Clara, in seventy-two cycles. Seventy-two…
The chipped Formica of the counter felt cool under Kenji’s palms. Dust motes danced in the single bare bulb hanging above. Outside, Tokyo exhaled a gritty sigh, a city still coughing up ash, even a year after the firestorms. He…
The rusted gate groaned open, spitting flakes of silver paint. Six of us. Six mistakes Silverthorn Prep hadn’t bothered filtering out. Rain slicked the manicured lawns, reflecting the gothic spires like broken glass. We weren’t supposed to *be* here. Not…
Act 1: The Discovery & Isolation The rain in Seattle was a constant, grey companion. Elias Thorne found a certain comfort in it, a mirroring of the relentless data streams that consumed his life. He’d spent the last five years…