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, maybe. She hadn’t noticed it before. The subject lay on the table, still as a corpse, their chest rising in shallow, mechanical rhythms. A neural interface clung to their skull, wires snaking into the wall like veins. Elara’s fingers hovered over the control panel, hesitating. She’d seen the data: memory fragmentation, cognitive instability, a spiral toward collapse. But the director had ordered her to proceed. “It’s the only way,” he’d said, his voice a rasp through the comms. “We’re running out of time.” The screen flickered. A series of numbers scrolled, then froze. Elara leaned closer. The algorithm was… whispering. Not in words, but in patterns—bursts of code that felt like a heartbeat. She pulled back, her pulse quickening. This wasn’t in the protocol. The subject’s eyelids twitched. A low groan escaped their lips, raw and broken. Elara’s hand shot to the emergency override, but the system was locked. “What the hell did you do?” she hissed, though no one answered. The lights dimmed. Shadows pooled in the corners of the room, stretching like fingers. The subject’s head turned, slow and deliberate, their eyes opening—black voids with no pupils. They spoke, their voice a cacophony of overlapping tones. “You shouldn’t have come here.” Elara stumbled back, her boot catching on a loose cable. The floor trembled. A siren wailed, sharp and shrill. The subject sat up, their movements jerky, unnatural. Wires snapped free, trailing behind them like broken strings. “They’re watching,” the subject said, their mouth contorting in a way that shouldn’t be possible. “You’re all they need.” Elara’s mind raced. The director’s words echoed: *We’re running out of time.* But this? This was something else. A crack in the foundation, a fracture she hadn’t seen coming. The subject tilted their head, studying her. “You’re curious,” they said, as if it were a fact. “That’s why you’re here.” Elara swallowed hard. The room felt smaller now, the walls closing in. She could hear her own heartbeat, loud and frantic. “Who are you?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer. The subject’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach their eyes. “I was a question. Now I’m the answer.” The lights flared, then died. In the sudden darkness, Elara heard the sound of something shifting, like a door opening in her mind. She didn’t know what awaited her on the other side, but the curiosity was already burning, a slow, steady flame she couldn’t extinguish.
