The knife kept moving behind Elias as he reached his pod.
Flip. Catch. Flip. Catch.
He refused to look back again. If the man wanted to lose a finger, that was between him, his Ikona, and whatever medical staff had drawn the short shift.
The A-08 door had no handle. Only a green handprint pulsing beside the seam.
Elias set his stamped hand against it.
A calm artificial voice answered from the wall. "Welcome to your assigned pod, Elias Kael. Interior access is provisional until medical clearance updates your profile."
The door opened upward, panels folding into the ceiling with a clean mechanical hum.
The pod was larger than he expected.
Not large enough to forget he was contained, but large enough to make the containment comfortable. A bed sat against the left wall with green sheets tucked military-tight. A dresser stood opposite it beneath a wall-mounted screen. A compact fridge had been built into the back wall. The only window was sealed behind shutters and probably showed nothing real.
Elias dropped the pack on the bed and stared at the room.
"This is nicer than my apartment in two categories, and that feels insulting."
Dot popped out near the dresser. "Does the fridge count as one category?"
"The fridge is doing most of the work."
He opened it.
Water, protein drinks, sealed meals, fruit, and several unlabeled packs that looked expensive in the joyless way military food often did. Dot leaned over his shoulder with immediate interest.
"If you cook anything in here, I expect tasting rights."
"You do not have a stomach."
"That has not stopped my enthusiasm."
Elias shut the fridge and unpacked enough to find his father's knife. He placed it on the dresser with more care than the rest of his gear. The blade did not belong in this clean room. Neither did he.
A folded note waited on the pillow.
CHANGE INTO GREEN ON GREEN.
He opened the dresser and found the outfit. Long-sleeved top. Matching pants. White stripe down the sides. Soft, flexible, and impossible to mistake for personal choice.
"The clothes say we are all individuals with identical laundry."
Dot circled the shirt. "At least the stripe implies movement."
"That is a desperate compliment from you."
He changed quickly. The material fit close without squeezing and made him look more like a patient athlete than a chef. When he checked his phone, the signal icon showed nothing.
No calls. No messages. No easy proof that the outside world still existed.
He put the phone away before the silence could grow teeth.
Back in the main block, Kikaru was doing push-ups near the mats.
She counted under her breath with no audience and no wasted movement. Sweat darkened the collar of her shirt. Each rep looked identical to the last. Elias slowed, thought about saying something, and decided survival had many forms.
The knife man passed through a side door near the lounge.
Elias followed at a distance because curiosity remained his worst habit.
The door opened into a recreational room.
That stopped him.
Screens covered one wall with leaderboards, music feeds, and live match stats. Gaming stations filled the corners. Reinforced couches formed a rough pit in the center around tables stocked with energy bars and drinks. Three shard bearers were arguing over a multiplayer match with the focus of people who would rather fight digitally than explain their lives.
Ikonas lounged around them like strange pets nobody had chosen. A bird pecked at a wrapper. A puff-shaped one slept in the crook of a chair. The snake from earlier coiled along the couch back, watching Dot with patient interest.
The man with the knife dropped into a seat and pointed the blade toward a small fridge.
"If you are going to stand there looking betrayed by the concept of fun, grab a drink."
"I am still adjusting to the prison having a gaming lounge."
"Not a prison according to staff," the man said. "They hate when you call it that, so obviously keep doing it."
Elias took a water and stayed standing.
This room explained more than Oliver had. Command wanted them contained, but not desperate. Comfortable people were easier to observe. Bored people revealed habits. Gamers revealed temper, patience, cooperation, spite.
Everything here was probably data.
Dot settled on his shoulder.
"You are doing the face where you ruin a nice room by thinking."
"Someone built this before they knew us. That means someone expected to need it."
The knife man caught his blade one more time and finally smiled.
"Now the new guy is learning."