Hadeom sat motionless behind his desk, jacket folded over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled to the elbows. The document in front of him remained unwritten, save the subject’s name at the top of the page.
Tobin Tiller.
He wasn’t sure what he should divulge. If anything at all.
He leaned back in his chair, looked toward the dark ceiling, and sighed. Somewhere beyond the concrete walls, electricity hummed through the building, through him. The electricity used to pass through him unnoticed—a background current, as forgettable as breathing. Now he could feel every fluorescent pulse in the walls, every elevator shudder traveling up the steel bones of the building and into his skin. The wiring hummed beneath the floors and through every conduit, a low mechanical choir threading through his nerves until his teeth ached with it. It was as if his body had lost whatever shield that once kept its voice out.
Hadeom needed a break.
He needed silence and isolation. He needed to reconnect with himself, to leave the madness behind, and breathe.
He needed to go home.
But first, he needed to go seeher.
The first corridor was sterile white, too clean to feel real. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and ozone. Cameras tracked him from every angle with soft mechanical clicks. Beyond the walls came distant metallic sounds, and he heard it all—heavy doors cycling open and shut somewhere deep below.
The elevator descended.
Most employees believed the complex extended ten or fifteen floors underground. In truth, it descended nearly a kilometre.
The deeper one travelled, the less the building resembled human architecture. Because, well... it wasn’t.
As the numbers dropped lower, the lighting changed from white to dim blue. The walls became reinforced titanium mesh layered beneath thick observation glass. Hadeom caught brief glimpses through narrow windows as the elevator passed various containment sectors that housed all kinds of inhabitants.
Magnetic suspension chambers. Cryogenic vaults. Negative-pressure habitats.
Impenetrable, unbreachable. Electrified corridors, localised EMP systems, kill-switch implants, pressure-sealed sectors. Every corridor contained emergency incineration ports, or flooding plasma capabilities, or brain exploding sonic frequencies.
Then the elevator crossed into sublevel nine.
The temperature dropped immediately, even before the doors had opened. He walked into the darkness, not needing light to see. Every cell was empty but one.
Hers.
Hadeom stopped at her containment cell. Though perhaps “tank” was more appropriate. Filled with water, the thick glass made Hadeom feel like he was visiting the city’s aquarium. Lusca was there as if waiting for him, floating, smiling. Her teethwere too sharp and too many in number, her eyes little more than black hollows.
She was healed, mostly. Barely. Her body was misshapen and grotesque, synthetically suspended in a half shift of her true form. Her arms were still not yet completely regrown, the mangled scar lines an angry purple on her silvery skin.
You can hear me, she said.
Yes, he replied, pointing to the implant on the back of his neck.
Stolen technology, she hissed.
Hadeom shrugged, not about to get into the politics of that.You’re going home.
No....
Yes.
Did you see him? Was he there?
Hadeom stared into her hallowed eyes and smiled.No.
Lies!she cried.
His injuries were too severe,Hadeom said casually.
