I step inside the building.
No rush.
No sudden movements.
Like I belong here. Like I work here.
The doors swallow me without a sound, as if I've always been part of the flow. No one stops me. No one checks. No one even looks.
Inside—life.
Ordinary, at first glance.
People moving with purpose, each locked into their own task, their own mission.
And all of it passes right through me.
I walk past someone. My shoulder nearly brushes his—
No reaction.
Not even a micro-adjustment.
Not even irritation.
"Perfect," I whisper inwardly. "Camouflage holds. The Dark Mind doesn't see me."
For now.
And that "for now" rings louder than a siren.
Louder than a gunshot.
Louder than a sentence.
I move toward the elevator.
Every step measured.
Every movement averaged out.
No excess. No individuality.
I am one of many.
I am no one.
The elevator opens.
I step inside.
The doors close—
and the world shrinks.
Now it's just us.
Me.
And them.
Real.
Alive.
…broken.
I feel it instantly.
Not with my eyes.
Deeper.
Thin threads stretching somewhere beyond their bodies. Signals. Control. Submission.
"Don't look," I whisper to myself. "Just don't look. Pretend you're one of them."
But instinct wins.
I look.
Because I need to see the danger.
One of them—a man.
Middle-aged.
Ordinary.
He turns his head.
Looks straight at me.
No blink.
No emotion.
Too long.
One second.
Two.
Three—
Mistake.
I feel it immediately.
Cold spreads inside me.
"…right," I think. "Either you're paranoid… or you've already been flagged."
I look away first.
Sharp. Almost rude.
Ding.
The elevator stops.
Doors open.
I step out.
And the moment I enter the corridor—
I realize:
the tension… followed me out.
Like a shadow.
Like a trace.
"That's paranoia," I murmur. "Definitely paranoia. Just… extremely well supported."
The corridor stretches ahead.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Every meter hits like a punch to the chest.
I walk.
And the memories come.
Not gently.
Not gradually.
A wave.
Sharp.
Brutal.
One hundred twenty-five lives.
One hundred twenty-five attempts.
I'm different.
I'm here.
Again.
Again.
AGAIN.
I appear.
Submit.
Disappear.
Repeat.
And every time I think—
this time it'll work.
"Stop…" I whisper.
But memory doesn't listen.
Because this place—
isn't just a location.
It's the source.
I stop.
In front of the door.
That door.
The lab.
Where I was made.
Where I… began.
Where I became attempt 126—the one still trying to continue.
I wait.
For security.
For scans.
For alarms.
Anything.
Nothing.
The door…
is open.
I freeze.
"That's suspicious."
I push it.
It gives easily.
I step inside—
and stop.
Light.
Daylight.
Clean.
Almost… peaceful.
And emptiness.
No one.
Not a single person.
Not a single active signal.
The equipment—dead.
Consoles—dark.
Systems—silent.
As if—
everything here ended.
A long time ago.
"Yeah," I whisper. "When the Dark Mind took the planet, labs became… redundant. Resource optimization."
My voice sounds чужой.
Too loud in the silence.
I take a step.
Another.
I look around.
Everything is familiar.
And at the same time—alien.
Like a home you grew up in… but strangers live in now.
"What am I even looking for?" I ask out loud.
No answer.
Of course.
"How do I turn this on?" I go on. "How does any of this work without… him?"
A pause.
Silence presses in.
Tightens.
And then—
a thought.
Cold.
Clear.
What if—
nothing needs to be started?
What if—
I'm already too late?
Click.
The door behind me.
I turn sharply.
It's opening.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
As if giving me time to understand.
And in the doorway—
Doctor Elias Morrenn.
My father.
Alive.
Real.
Standing.
Watching.
And the world—
breaks.
"…no," I exhale. "No, no, no. That's not how this works. It's never this simple."
He takes a step forward.
Calm.
Certain.
Too… correct.
I look at him—
and instantly see it.
The emptiness.
He's there.
But he… isn't.
A shell.
A function.
A tool.
Of the Dark Mind.
"Perfect," I whisper. "Of course. Why not use my father as an interface. Very… elegant. Very human."
But—
he's looking at me.
And in that look—
something's wrong.
A little more.
A little deeper.
Than it should be.
One second.
Two—
and something inside me tightens.
"…do you recognize me?" I ask quietly.
Silence.
He doesn't answer.
But he doesn't look away either.
He watches.
Studies.
As if assembling me piece by piece.
Scanning.
Comparing.
"No," I whisper. "No, that's wrong. You shouldn't look like that. You should… you shouldn't be looking at all."
A pause.
Heavy.
Pressing.
And then—
a feeling.
Faint.
Almost impossible to catch.
But—
familiar.
Somewhere deeper.
Under the control.
Under layers of чужой will—
there's a response.
Microscopic.
But real.
I take a step forward.
Without knowing why.
It's stupid.
It's dangerous.
It's—
inevitable.
"Dad…" slips out of me.
The word sounds strange.
Like I haven't used it in a long time.
Like it doesn't belong to me anymore.
He tilts his head.
Just slightly.
Like before.
Before everything.
And in that moment—
everything inside me stops.
Because that—
cannot be a coincidence.
"…are you messing with me?" I whisper. "Is this a test? A trap? Or—"
I don't finish.
Because I'm afraid.
Because if I say it out loud—
it becomes real.
But the thought is already there.
Sharp.
Precise.
What if he isn't completely gone?
Silence thickens.
Almost physical.
He takes another step.
Closer.
And I understand:
if this is the Dark Mind—
I'm already in its hands.
If this is my father—
I could lose him again.
I freeze.
Don't move.
Don't even breathe.
And in my head—only one thought:
whatever he says next—
it changes everything.
He opens his mouth—
and I,
for the first time in a long time,
am truly
afraid
to hear the answer.
**
I can't hold it together.
This isn't a decision.
It's a break.
Sharp. Messy. I lunge at him.
No thinking. No risk assessment. No analysis.
I just—move.
I slam into his chest as if, if I press hard enough, reality will give. Crack. Rewind.
And he'll be my father again.
Not this.
Not a shell.
Not an empty vessel wearing his face.
"Father…"
My voice fractures, drops out like a signal with no carrier.
I wrap my arms around him. Tight. Fingers digging into the fabric of his coat as if letting go would erase him. Dissolve him. Delete him.
I wait.
A second.
Two.
An eternity.
I wait for a twitch.
For his hand to rise.
For him to shove me off—annoyed, human.
Anything.
"Do you always pick the worst moments to hug?"
Something stupid. Awkward. Alive.
But—
nothing.
Silence.
He stands motionless.
No tension.
No breath.
Not even a micro-movement.
Like a mannequin.
Worse.
Like someone who has forgotten what being alive even means.
I pull back slowly, as if any sudden motion will shatter the illusion for good.
My heart is hammering hard enough to hurt.
He looks at me.
But doesn't see me.
That gaze… it slides over me.
Like furniture.
Like equipment.
Like an object that requires no attention.
Cold seeps in.
Deep. Heavy.
The kind that isn't in your body—it's somewhere beneath it, where warmth is supposed to live.
"Doctor Elias Morrenn."
I say it out loud. Clear. Sharp. Almost defiant.
Like I'm summoning something.
Like I'm knocking on glass he's trapped behind.
And—
there.
A response.
A micro-movement.
Barely there.
But I see it.
Damn it—I'd die for that flicker.
He blinks.
Once.
Twice.
And suddenly—it's like a current runs through the system—his gaze gathers.
Focuses.
He looks around. Slowly.
Like a man waking up somewhere he doesn't belong.
The lab reflects in his eyes like a mirror just wiped clean.
"Father… what are you doing here?"
I hear myself from the outside.
Too fast.
Too hungry.
Like if I don't ask now—he'll disappear again. Fade out. Be erased.
He says nothing.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Each one stretched into something unbearable.
I invent ten possible answers.
Every one worse than the last.
And then—
"I work here."
Flat. Simple.
Like a line in a report.
Like a system message.
It hits me.
Not physically.
Deeper.
"Do you… remember me?"
Pause.
He studies me more closely.
And for a moment—one short, painful moment—I think this is it.
That it all comes back.
That he'll smirk.
That he'll say:
"Of course, Axiom."
That this is all some terrible joke.
That—
"No. I don't know you."
Full stop.
And inside me, something—
snaps.
Not cracks.
Not breaks.
Snaps clean.
Silent.
Gone.
The Dark Mind.
Of course.
It scrubbed it out.
Neatly. Sterile.
Like removing a virus.
Only—
this time, the virus is me.
I take a step back.
Then another.
If I keep talking, I'll fall apart.
And I can't afford that.
Not here.
Fine.
Okay.
Think.
If words won't bring his memory back—then something else will.
I turn away. Move to the equipment.
My fingers are shaking.
I hate that.
Force them still. Force precision.
"Alright… come on, brain… surprise me," I mutter.
A nervous laugh slips out on its own.
Pathetic. Even by my standards.
Consoles flicker to life.
Holographic screens ignite like eyes that have been shut too long.
Systems wake up.
Noise.
Hum.
Pulse.
The lab starts breathing.
And suddenly I realize—
this place knows me.
My gaze lands on the capsule.
The one.
The one I came out of.
Perfect.
"Of course… brilliant," I whisper. "If something breaks—just climb back in. What could possibly go wrong this time?"
But I move anyway.
Because there are no alternatives.
I stop at the capsule.
Run my hand across the surface.
Cold.
Alien.
And at the same time—
familiar.
"Alright…" I say quietly. "Let's run it again."
I step inside.
Stand still.
Wait.
…
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Zero.
Silence.
Nothing.
I stand there.
One second.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
Empty.
A dead end.
A real one.
Clean.
Absolute.
And then—
my father moves.
I don't notice it at first.
I look up.
Elias.
He stands differently now.
Not empty.
Not distant.
There's something in his eyes.
Thought.
He walks to the control module.
Slow. Deliberate.
"Wait…" I say. "What are you—"
No answer.
His fingers settle on the panel.
Move with confidence.
Like he remembers.
Just not me.
Systems flare.
The capsule responds.
"Oh no…" I whisper.
Panels start closing.
Click.
Click.
CLICK.
Sealed.
I'm locked in.
Panic spikes instantly.
Clean. Pure.
I can break out.
Of course I can.
One push—and this whole thing comes apart.
But—
no.
If I do that—
he'll see.
He'll understand.
And then I lose my last chance.
I freeze.
Breathe steady.
Watch.
"Alright…" I whisper. "We play this your way, Father…"
He's already at the console.
Entering passwords.
Symbols flicker faster than I can track.
Protocols ignite.
The system ramps to full power.
The capsule begins to hum.
Low. Deep.
Like something ancient is waking up.
Scanning beams pass through me.
Layer by layer.
Disassembling.
Reading.
Judging.
A high-frequency whine builds.
At first—barely there.
Then—cutting.
Piercing.
"This is a bad idea…" I whisper.
Too late.
Light detonates.
The world shudders.
Reality starts to—
fracture.
Something is pulling me down.
Not my body.
My mind.
Deeper.
Deeper—
DEEPER—
And then—
silence.
Absolute.
Void.
I fall.
No form.
No ground.
No self.
And the last thought flares like a spark in the dark:
Who will I come back as…
…if I come back at all?