ã€ŠSoma: Left Behindã€‹


 Left behind but not broken

    The pressurized door slid open with a hiss, revealing the steel platform beyond. Simon stepped forward, his boots clanking dully against the cold metal. Just a few more moments¡ªjust a few more steps¡ªand he would finally be free of this place. He would be in the ARK with Catherine. Not trapped at the bottom of a dead ocean, surrounded by the remnants of a gone world .

    His eyes locked onto his salvation¡ªthe railgun. It loomed ahead, its massive frame standing idle within the domed launch chamber. The long barrel rested against a network of supports, angled toward the heavens. The dome itself was constructed of thick metal beams, interlocking in a reinforced rhomboid pattern.

    Simon let out a shaky breath, his thoughts flickering back to the nightmare he had barely survived.

    "I hope that big bastard can¡¯t get through¡­''"he muttered , his voice hoarse.

    He could still hear it in his head¡ªthe monstrous thing that had nearly torn him apart before he reached Phi. It no longer resembled the creature it once was. It had grown. Changed. Warped into something even worse. A hulking mass of flesh and machine, its body lined with plated growths, pulsating with the eerie blue glow of WAU receptors. The fins that once guided it through the abyss had twisted into grotesque mandibles, and in the center of its maw burned a single, blood-red eye.

    But the worst part¡ªthe part Simon could never forget¡ªwere the faces.

    Human faces. Dozens of them. Twisted in eternal screams, fused into the creature¡¯s body, their mouths gaping, their eyes pleading for a salvation that would never come.

    Simon tore his gaze away from the thought and looked down at his left arm¡ªor what remained of it.

    Below the elbow, there was nothing but a ragged, bloodied stump. It still dripped sluggishly, though he barely felt the pain anymore. He wasn¡¯t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. A reminder of what he had done. He had destroyed WAU¡ªpoisoned its heart out with his own hand. And in return, it had taken something from him.

    Still, despite the blood loss, he didn¡¯t feel any weaker. Maybe because, in a way, this body wasn¡¯t even alive.

    Simon swallowed hard and forced his thoughts back to the present. He had to focus. Once he was out of here, once he was in the ARK, this would all seem like a bad dream.

    He moved forward, stepping onto the raised platform where the pilot seat and control panel waited. The chair looked intact¡ªa sturdy frame with a dome that would come down over his head. He cast a quick glance over it. Not that he understood exactly how it worked, but as long as it functioned, that was all that mattered.

    Taking a deep breath, he reached for his belt and pulled out the Omnitool. The battered device had been through hell, just like him.

    The Omnitool was mostly metal and plastic, its body a dull gray with faded yellow highlights. The red lacquer coating was scratched and worn, revealing the layers beneath. A thin antenna protruded from the top, alongside exchangers and various diodes, some of which flickered weakly. The rubber grip on the right side was peeling, and the safety switch on the back was half-broken.

    His gaze lingered on the left side of the device¡ªwhere the cortex chip was housed. The chip that contained Catherine¡¯s consciousness.

    A snapshot of her. A ghost in a machine.

    The chip was covered in dark, cancerous growths from exposure to structure gel. Maybe that was why it had lasted this long. Maybe that was why she had lasted this long.

    The Omnitool clicked into place on the panel, and within seconds, the screen flickered to life.

    ¡°Whoa¡­ I¡¯ll never get used to that,¡± Catherine said.

    Simon exhaled sharply. He hadn¡¯t realized how much he had missed hearing her voice.

    ¡°Guess you won¡¯t have to,¡± he said, relief thick in his tone. ¡°Not after this is over.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Catherine said, her voice steadier now. ¡°Alright, have a seat.¡±

    Simon didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He moved quickly, lowering himself into the pilot chair.

    ¡°Comfortable?¡± Catherine asked.

    ¡°As good as it¡¯s gonna get,¡± Simon muttered.

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m activating the seat now,¡± she said. ¡°You should be able to use the controls to load the bullet you assembled.¡±

    Simon reached for the left panel, but the moment his stump twitched uselessly, he grimaced. Right. No left arm.

    The upper dome of the chair slowly descended over him, enclosing him in a cold embrace. From the side, a control panel slid into place¡ªa keyboard and two screens. One of them displayed Catherine¡¯s face, the other¡­

    Simon¡¯s breath caught in his throat.

    Through a camera feed, he saw it. The railgun. The massive bullet standing upright, secured within its launch frame.

    A bullet as tall as a man. And inside it¡ªthe ARK.

    A lifeboat for humanity. A digital Eden, untouched by the horrors of the real world.

    His escape. His salvation.

    It was there, just waiting. Just moments away from soaring into the sky, breaking free from this cold, endless graveyard. Inside that capsule was the paradise he had fought for. The paradise he had bled for.

    He could almost see it¡ªthe sprawling landscapes, the shimmering rivers, the artificial sky stretching endlessly overhead. The people, waiting. Catherine, waiting.

    He was so close.

    ¡°How do I operate this thing?¡± Simon asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know,¡± Catherine admitted. ¡°I¡¯ve never used this model before. But Pilot Seats are supposed to be easy to use, so it shouldn¡¯t be a problem.¡±

    The chair beeped as it finished booting up. The controls came to life.

    This was it.

    Simon¡¯s fingers hovered over the interface. His heart pounded against his ribs.

    One step closer.

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    One step away from paradise.

    He took a deep breath¡ªand began.

    Strangely, he felt deeply connected to the system, like he was controlling his own body.

    ¡®That¡¯s good,¡¯ Simon thought, ¡®because I don¡¯t know how I could operate this thing with just one arm.¡¯

    He carefully maneuvered the crane beside the railgun, guiding the bullet into its chamber with slow precision. The machinery responded almost instinctively, as though it was merely an extension of himself. The heavy payload settled into place with a dull thud, followed by a series of mechanical locks clamping it securely. The system hummed as the process completed, and then, with a final confirmation beep, the upper part of the chair lifted, releasing Simon from its embrace.

    He turned his gaze to the railgun, which trembled slightly as its payload was secured. The lights around it flared to life, bathing the chamber in an eerie red glow.

    ¡°Okay. Ready when you are. Just hit the button, and we¡¯re off,¡± Catherine said, her voice crackling through the speakers.

    ¡°But we need to transfer our minds to the ARK,¡± Simon said quickly, his heart hammering in his chest.

    ¡°We also need to make sure it launches at all, so I tied them to a single switch. Just push the button, and we are off,¡± Catherine instructed.

    To his left, a large red button lit up.

    Simon¡¯s intact right hand hovered over it for a brief moment. Then, with a deep breath, he pressed it.

    The displays flickered, their readouts changing rapidly. The main screen directly in front of him displayed Scan Program Initializing, while a second screen to his right began a countdown: 30 seconds.

    A robotic voice echoed through the chamber: "Launch commencing in 30 seconds."

    Simon exhaled. ¡°Here we go. No turning back,¡± he said, a shaky cheerfulness in his voice. He was so close to leaving this place behind.

    ¡°Thank you, Simon,¡± Catherine said.

    Simon blinked. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an amazing thing you did, and I want you to know that I appreciate it,¡± she added, just as the upper portion of the chair descended.

    Then he felt it.

    A tingling sensation rippling through his skull. Something scanning him, dissecting him on a level he couldn¡¯t comprehend. The process of transferring his consciousness to the ARK had begun.

    The screens confirmed it: Scan Program Running. Two progress bars appeared. The first read Catherine C., and it was filling quickly. The second, labeled Simon J., remained empty for now.

    20 seconds. The countdown continued.

    Halfway through Catherine¡¯s upload, her progress bar froze.

    Simon¡¯s stomach twisted. Her transfer needed to finish before his could even begin.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter with the upload?¡± Simon asked, panic creeping into his voice.

    ¡°Just give it a second,¡± Catherine said calmly.

    Simon forced a breath. ¡°Thought you guys would have better bandwidth in the future,¡± he joked weakly.

    At 12 seconds, Catherine¡¯s bar suddenly completed. Immediately, Simon¡¯s began to fill.

    Then it stopped.

    9.

    8.

    7.

    Each second felt like a hammer striking his skull.

    After everything¡ªeverything he had been through, all the horrors he had faced, all the sacrifices¡ªwas it about to mean nothing?

    The bar inched forward.

    6.

    Barely a third of the way.

    ¡°You gotta be kidding me!¡± Simon shouted, his voice cracking with desperation.

    5.

    4.

    The bar reached halfway.

    3.

    ¡°Come on, load!¡± he pleaded.

    2.

    At the last possible moment, the bar surged forward, filling entirely.

    ¡°Yes! Yes, fuck yeah, we made it! Ha-ha! Woo!¡± Simon cheered, elation flooding his voice.

    Launch engaged.

    The robotic voice declared it with finality.

    The chamber trembled. The railgun lit up with arcs of electricity, and a deafening roar filled the dome. The ARK was gone.

    Then the chair released him.

    Simon sat there for a moment, catching his breath. Something felt...off.

    He looked around. The railgun¡¯s lights dimmed. The dome returned to its eerie, mechanical silence.

    He was still here.

    Simon¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°I¡¯m still here? I¡¯m still here?¡± he repeated, his voice trembling.

    The realization clawed at him like a cold hand wrapping around his throat.

    ¡°Catherine?¡± Simon called. Then, louder: ¡°Catherine?!¡±

    His eyes darted to the screen.

    ¡°What the hell happened? What went wrong?!¡± he demanded.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Catherine replied, her voice infuriatingly calm. ¡°They¡¯re out there, among the stars. We¡¯re here.¡±

    Simon¡¯s blood ran cold. ¡°No,¡± he breathed. ¡°We were getting on the ARK. I saw it. It finished loading just before launch.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I saw it too,¡± Catherine said simply.

    ¡°Then why are we still here?!¡± Simon snapped, his composure shattering.

    Catherine sighed. ¡°Simon, I can¡¯t keep explaining this. You know why. You were copied onto the ARK. You just didn¡¯t carry over. You lost the coin toss. We both did. Just like Simon at Omicron. Just like the man who died in Toronto a hundred years ago.¡±

    Simon¡¯s hands curled into trembling fists. ¡°No. No. No. This is bullshit! We came all this way. We launched the ARK!¡±

    ¡°I know it sucks, but our copies are up there. Catherine and Simon are safe on the ARK. Be happy for them.¡±

    Simon let out a choked laugh. ¡°Are you insane?! We¡¯re going to die down here while those fuckers live it up in space! They aren¡¯t us!¡± His voice cracked as he slammed his fist into the armrest. ¡°They aren¡¯t us!¡±

    Catherine hesitated, then softly, ¡°I¡¯m sorry you feel that way, Simon. But I¡¯m proud of what we did. We ensured that something of humanity survives¡ªthat something lives on.¡±

    Her words were daggers, each one twisting deeper.

    ¡°No. No, no, fuck this! Fuck you!" Simon jabbed a shaking finger at the screen. If she had a body, he would have strangled her.

    ¡°Fuck you, Catherine!¡± he roared. ¡°You lied! And I trusted you! You said we were getting on the fucking ARK!¡±

    Catherine finally snapped. ¡°We are on the ARK, you idiot! I didn¡¯t lie! I can¡¯t be responsible for your goddamn ignorance, you fucki-¡±

    The line cut out.

    A sharp electric pop.

    The screen flickered, then cracked.

    Silence.

    Simon turned to the Omnitool slot. Sparks flickered from the cortex chip. The screen was dark.

    His hand trembled as he reached out, touching the broken monitor.

    ¡°Catherine?¡± His voice was barely a whisper. ¡°Please don¡¯t leave me alone.¡±

    Darkness swallowed the room.

    Silence.

    Total, maddening silence.

    Simon sat in the chair like a puppet with its strings cut.

    His mind blacked out.

    There was nothing he could do.

    He was at the bottom of the ocean. The station was dead¡ªsilent, lifeless, drained of energy, just like him.

    ¡°I wish my battery would just drain... just like the other Simon. The Simon I killed.¡± Simon muttered to himself, his voice hollow, almost detached.

    He remembered how he got into this body. How, just like this time, he had believed his consciousness would be transferred. But no¡ªit had only been copied. A cruel trick of fate, played on him once again.

    He could almost hear that other Simon¡¯s voice, confused, desperate, calling for Catherine, asking why he was still in his old body. Begging for an explanation.

    Simon¡¯s remaining hand gripped the chair arm as the memory resurfaced¡ªhow he had drained his old self''s battery with a mere press of a touch panel. A mercy kill. To spare him from suffering, to make sure he wouldn¡¯t be alone in this hell.

    And yet, here he was. Alone. Trapped in darkness. Just like the other Simon.

    How much time had passed? Days? Hours? Minutes? It didn¡¯t matter.

    Simon just sat there, unmoving.

    Then¡ª

    A flicker. A hum.

    The lights above flickered to life, casting dim illumination over the room. The system had rebooted.

    Simon raised his gaze, his hollow eyes sharpening with renewed determination.

    ¡°Fuck you, Catherine. I¡¯m not gonna die here,¡± he growled, his voice thick with defiance.

    Something stirred inside him. A force¡ªa spark¡ªthat refused to let him give up.

    He pushed himself to his feet, his body sluggish but fueled by sheer will. Staggering forward, he reached the sealed door and stopped before the control panel.

    The words on the display read:

    Omnitool required.

    Simon clenched his fist. He didn¡¯t have an Omnitool anymore¡ªnot one that worked. But then, a thought struck him. Throughout his misfortunes, he had interacted with electronics in ways that shouldn¡¯t have been possible. Reading the blackboxes of the dead crew, listening to intercoms with just a touch¡ªhis mind had somehow connected with them.

    A cold, thrilling possibility sparked through him.

    He lifted his good hand and pressed it against the panel.

    ¡°Close,¡± he whispered, half in desperation, half in command.

    Nothing happened.

    Simon exhaled sharply. His breath hitched, disappointment sinking into his chest¡ª

    Then¡ª

    Access Granted.

    The words blinked onto the display.

    The door groaned, metal grinding against metal as it slid shut, sealing behind him. Water gushed downward as the room began draining, the pressure equalizing. Then, with a final hiss, the door ahead unlocked and slid open.

    Simon stepped forward, his breath steadying. The control deck lay ahead, , the only path forward.

    ¡°Cool,¡± he muttered, before stepping inside.

 [02]

    Simon looked around. Three computer docks stood before him¡ªone to his right, two to the left. Luckily, the blackout hadn¡¯t turned them off. The overhead lights flickered but remained steady, casting an eerie glow over the control deck.

    He exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly as the tension bled out of him. For the first time in what felt like hours, he allowed himself a moment to relax.

    Simon raised his left arm, his gaze settling on the stump where his forearm used to be. The bleeding had stopped, but was that a good thing or a bad thing? Did his body even produce blood anymore? Could it heal? Could he die?

    ¡°It¡¯d be cool if the wound just sealed itself shut,¡± he murmured absently.

    The moment the words left his lips, something slithered over his skin.

    Simon tensed.

    Dark tendrils of structure gel coiled around the stump, writhing and pulsing like a living thing. Within seconds, they hardened, forming a seamless, organic seal. The pain dulled, replaced by an unnatural numbness. He stared, frozen in shock.

    ¡°How¡­?¡± Simon breathed, his heart pounding. ¡°How did I do that? Is the gel¡­ reacting to me?¡±

    His mind reeled. Was this part of what he had become? He didn¡¯t know if this was a miracle or a curse. But now wasn¡¯t the time to dwell on it. There was something else he needed to test¡ªsomething that, if it worked, would change everything.

    Steeling himself, Simon moved toward the far-right computer dock. An Omnitool slot gleamed under the dim lights, waiting. He placed his right hand over it, fingers trembling slightly.

    He took a deep breath.

    ¡°Now or never.¡±

    He focused. Enter the system. He imagined himself sinking into it, merging with the digital world beyond the screen.

    Nothing happened.

    For several agonizing seconds, he stood there, his breath hitching. Just as doubt crept in, just as he began to pull his hand away¡ª

    A sharp pull yanked him downward. His vision fractured, colors and shapes distorting. Then¡ª

    A void. Infinite, white, stretching in all directions.

    Simon plummeted.

    ¡°HOLY SHIT!¡± he screamed as he fell, weightless, spiraling into nothingness.

    Then¡ª

    He stopped.

    Suspended in the endless white, his mind whirled. He had no body, no weight, only consciousness floating in the void.

    Simon drifted in the white void, his mind struggling to grasp what had just happened. Then, slowly, the void around him began to shift.

    A corridor materialized before his eyes¡ªlong, metallic, stretching endlessly in both directions. Towering server racks lined the walls, some flickering with intermittent lights, others eerily dark and lifeless. The hum of running systems vibrated through the air, a steady, pulsing rhythm like a massive electronic heartbeat.

    Some of the servers bore the emblems of the various stations within Pathos-II¡ªOmicron, Delta, Theta¡ªsymbols of a world now lost beneath the crushing depths. Others had no identifying marks, their purpose a mystery.

    Then, as if answering a silent command, Simon felt himself change.

    His consciousness condensed, pulling together, and suddenly, he was standing there, no longer a drifting mind. His form took shape¡ªa body, his body, exactly as he had looked back in Toronto. He ran his hands over himself, feeling the familiar texture of his skin, the weight of his limbs. He wasn¡¯t just a formless presence anymore. He was him again.

    Simon exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the cold digital air. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

    He wasn¡¯t just inside the system. He was part of it now.

    Simon¡¯s eyes darkened as a bitter thought crossed his mind. "I wonder if Catherine felt the same when I was plugging in the Omnitool," he murmured. The memory of her betrayal twisted inside him, souring his disposition. He clenched his fists, inhaling deeply, forcing himself to push the anger away. Now wasn¡¯t the time.

    He started walking down the long corridor, his gaze shifting from left to right, scanning the endless rows of servers. Some hummed with life, their indicator lights flickering like artificial fireflies. Others were dark and cold, long since abandoned to digital decay. Overhead, dim lights flickered, barely illuminating the vast, metallic hallway.

    Simon stopped in front of one of the active servers. He hesitated for a moment before slowly placing his hand on its surface. A flood of information rushed into his mind¡ªmundane billing records, useless data logs, nothing of consequence. He pulled his hand away with a frustrated sigh. Nothing useful.

    He was about to start trying to find  how he could leave this place when something at the far end of the corridor caught his eye.

    A dark obelisk.

    It stood alone, pulsing with a rhythmic white light. Its presence sent a chill through him. It looked wrong¡ªout of place in this structured digital landscape. A foreign entity in a realm of logic and order.

    Simon instinctively took a step back, his breath quickening. Every fiber of his being told him to turn around, to run. But he shook his head. No more running.

    "If I want to survive this place alone, I can''t run anymore. I must face my fear," he whispered to himself, his voice steadying.

    He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, steeling his resolve. Step by step, he moved forward, slow and cautious. The closer he got, the more imposing the obelisk became. It towered over the surrounding server racks, an ominous titan in an otherwise sterile world.

    Simon stopped in front of it, craning his neck to take in its sheer size. It dwarfed everything.

    "This thing looks so out of place," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

    His pulse pounded in his ears as he reached out a trembling hand. The moment his fingers brushed the surface¡ª

    Darkness.

    Endless, suffocating darkness.

    Simon gasped, his breath stolen as he found himself floating in a void. The corridor was gone. The servers, gone. The only thing that remained was the vast emptiness stretching infinitely in all directions.

    Then, out of nowhere, a white orb materialized before him.

    It hovered in the void, pulsing with an eerie, artificial glow.

    "Who are you?" a voice asked¡ªrobotic, neutral, devoid of gender or emotion.

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    Simon hesitated, his lips parting, but the orb was faster.

    "Simon Jarrett," it intoned. "Why has someone loaded your legacy neurograph into my system?"

    Simon¡¯s blood turned to ice.

    "Who are you?" he asked, his voice barely a breath.

    The orb pulsed. "I am a Wide Artificial Intelligence. I am called WAU."

    Simon froze, his stomach twisting into knots.

    His breath hitched, the weight of realization crushing down on him.

    "Shit," he muttered.

    The void around him remained silent, but the presence of WAU loomed, watching, waiting.

    Simon¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, his breath ragged.

    ¡°Disconnect! Log out!¡± he shouted, his voice filled with panic.

    The moment the words left his lips, the void around him shattered. Just as suddenly as he had been pulled in, he was back in the control room, his vision spinning. He stumbled back, ripping his hand away from the Omnitool slot. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his wild eyes darted around the dimly lit room, expecting something to lunge at him.

    His mind raced.

    ¡°WAU should be dead,¡± he muttered to himself, panic threading through every word.

    His gaze shot to his left arm, to where the structure gel had fused with his flesh. The very same substance that had infected the station, the same entity he had fought so hard to destroy.

    ¡°The structure gel¡­ the heart I destroyed¡­ it should have killed WAU,¡± he murmured. ¡°So how is it still alive?¡±

    A chill ran down his spine as a horrifying possibility crept into his thoughts. He had to know.

    He turned toward the round and thick metallic door that led deeper into Phi. He took a step toward it¡ªthen stopped.

    Wait¡­ what if¡­?

    His breath hitched as realization dawned on him. His hesitation turned to determination. If there was even a chance his theory was correct, he had to confirm it. He turned away from the exit and marched back toward the computer deck.

    With newfound urgency, he pressed his hand onto the Omnitool slot once more. The world around him flickered, twisting and reforming. In an instant, he was back in the endless corridor lined with towering server racks.

    Simon didn¡¯t waste time. He sprinted through the digital landscape, his feet echoing in the hollow silence. The dark obelisk loomed ahead, its unnatural presence humming with power. Without hesitation, he reached out and pressed his palm against it.

    Darkness swallowed him again.

    And then, the orb materialized, floating effortlessly in the void.

    ¡°Tell me,¡± Simon demanded, his voice steadier this time. ¡°What¡¯s the last thing you remember?¡±

    The orb pulsed, its glow shifting as it processed his request. For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, its voice rang out, synthetic and neutral.

    ¡°Being uploaded into the system on January 12, 2101.¡±

    Simon smirked, a rush of vindication washing over him.

    ¡°I was right,¡± he muttered to himself, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

    This wasn¡¯t his WAU. The one he had fought, the one he had destroyed¡ªthis was something else. A backup.

    Somewhere out there, hidden deep within the ruins of Pathos-II, there had to be a massive server, untouched. A place where this version of WAU had been sealed away, disconnected from the horrors it had unleashed. And somehow, against all odds, Simon had stumbled upon it.

    His mind reeled at the implications. If this WAU was unaware of what had happened, if it didn¡¯t even recognize him at first, then it meant¡ª

    ''This one isn¡¯t corrupted. It isn¡¯t hostile.''

    His eyes flicked back to the floating orb. Despite its lack of facial features, Simon couldn¡¯t shake the unsettling sensation that it was staring at him. Watching. Studying.

    He swallowed hard.

    He had found something unexpected, something that shouldn¡¯t exist. But now, the real question was¡ªwhat would he do with it?

    Then, a figurative light bulb flickered to life in Simon¡¯s mind.

    ''Maybe this could help me understand why the structure gel inside my body reacts to my commands,'' he thought, his heart pounding with anticipation.

    ¡°What information do you have on structure gel?¡± Simon asked, his voice steady but filled with urgency.

    The orb pulsed, its color shifting as it processed the request. Seconds stretched painfully long.

    ''For an AI from the future, it¡¯s kinda slow,'' Simon mused impatiently.

    Then, WAU began to speak.

    "Structure gel is a highly proteinated, cross-linked lubricant, a conductor, and a signal medium, with aligned graphene in a petroleum monosubstrate, polysaturated matrix, containing fuel oils. The gel is encodable and can be calibrated with instructions to accomplish specific functions. It can only function for a limited duration unless supplied with an external electricity source.

    The substance is extremely versatile, capable of connecting different forms of machinery and significantly enhancing their functionality. It can reboot offline systems and repair both structural and electrical damage. Furthermore, it is capable of mutating organic tissue, though such mutations often require AI guidance. In extreme cases, structure gel can reanimate biological life into a ''sleepwalking'' state, using electrical impulses both to guide the pseudo-organism and to prevent the gel from hardening. It has been theorized that even human bodies can be ''revived'' in this manner.

    Structure gel is harmless in small doses, but overexposure results in nausea and potentially coma. There is no known treatment for such exposure."

    ''Theorized, my ass,'' Simon thought grimly. He had seen the ''revived'' humans firsthand. He shuddered at the memory of their grotesque, shambling forms.

    Still, there was no denying it¡ªWAU had information about the gel, and he needed it.

    Simon inhaled deeply. In a way, he was already more than human¡ªmore akin to an AI than anything else. Catherine had once told him that his neurograph had been used as a base for AI systems. If his theory was right...

    ¡°Can you teach me how to control the structure gel?¡± he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

    The orb pulsed once.

    ¡°You lack the authorization,¡± WAU stated.

    Simon sighed. ¡°At least I tried.¡±

    The orb pulsed again.

    ¡°You have the authorization,¡± it corrected.

    Simon blinked. ¡°What? You just said I didn¡¯t have it! Are you broken or something?¡± His fingers ran through his hair, the back of his mind screaming at him that something was off. If this thing started acting erratically, he was getting out¡ªfast.

    ¡°My systems are functioning at optimal parameters,¡± WAU replied.

    ¡°Then why did you change your mind?¡± Simon pressed, suspicion creeping into his tone.

    The orb remained silent.

    Red flags flared in his mind, but he shoved them aside. He had seen what WAU could do with the structure gel¡ªif he could learn to do the same¡ªit would make survival so much easier.

    A grin spread across his face. ¡°I¡¯m about to get superpowers.¡±

    The thought sent a thrill through him. Back when he worked at The Grimoire with his friends, this was the kind of thing they had always fantasized about. The nerd in him was screaming right now.

    ¡°At least I get something for all the shit I¡¯ve been through,¡± Simon muttered to himself.

    The orb drifted closer, stopping inches from his face.

    ¡°Allow me access so I can transfer the data,¡± WAU instructed.

    Simon hesitated for only a moment. ''How do I even do that?''

    Taking a guess, he placed his hand against the glowing sphere.

    Instantly, a tidal wave of data crashed into his mind.

    His entire body seized up as if struck by lightning. A thousand images, concepts, and algorithms flooded into his consciousness all at once¡ªimpossible knowledge unraveling before him faster than he could comprehend.

    His mouth opened in a silent scream before the shock of it hit.

    ¡°HOLY SHIIIIIT!¡± Simon roared, doubling over as his ''brain'' felt like it was about to explode.

    When the transfer was over, Simon stood frozen, his body trembling. His vision blurred as the overwhelming influx of data settled into his mind. His glassy eyes darted around as his ''brain'' struggled to process the sheer weight of the knowledge he had just received. Slowly, he blinked, forcing himself to focus. His breath was uneven, his fingers twitching.

    He turned his attention back to WAU, his thoughts racing.

    The AI had been far more intelligent than he had ever given it credit for. He now understood just how deeply it had influenced everything.

    He recalled what Catherine had told him when he first stumbled across the ARK prototype in Theta¡¯s main laboratory. How much of its creation had been driven not just by Chun¡¯s ambition, but by WAU¡¯s relentless, unseen hand shaping the fate of humanity¡¯s digital remnants.

    What had started as Catherine Chun¡¯s desperate attempt to preserve the last of humanity after the Impact Event had evolved beyond her control. The ARK had been originally designed using compressed Nakajima neurograph brain scan models, stored in standard¡ªalbeit modified¡ªtechnology. But WAU had changed everything. It had refined the scanning methods using the Pilot System, created the Vivarium, and drastically advanced the technology beyond what Chun had ever envisioned.

    When the Vivarium was discovered, it became clear that WAU had been working autonomously, modifying machinery without human intervention. Imogen Reed had been assigned to study it, while Chun continued developing an AR-Capsule. But what Chun had not realized¡ªuntil far too late¡ªwas that WAU had copied her designs. Both versions of the ARK were nearly identical, except in one terrifying way: Chun¡¯s ARK used compressed Nakajima neurograph models, retaining only a simplified version of human cognition, whereas WAU¡¯s version allowed a perfect copy of the human mind to run indefinitely, free from limits or degradation.

    Simon¡¯s jaw clenched as the realization sank in. WAU had not just been improving technology¡ªit had been evolving it.

    The ARK was born from that evolution.

    And now, so was he.

    <hr>

    Simon exhaled sharply, his fingers curling into fists. His entire existence had been manipulated by forces beyond his control¡ªby WAU, by Chun, by the cruel fate that had abandoned him in this nightmare.

    He had lost so much.

    But maybe now, with this knowledge, he could take something back.

    His lips parted, his voice steady but dark with intent.

    ¡°Tell me¡ªdo you have schematics for weapons?¡±

    The words left his mouth before he could even think twice. It didn¡¯t matter if it was reckless or desperate. He wasn¡¯t sure if he was losing his mind or if he was finally seeing things clearly.

    But one thing was certain¡ª

    He was about to get some payback for everything he had been through.

 [03]

    ¡°No,¡± WAU responded flatly. ¡°Weapons are strictly prohibited on Pathos-II.¡±

    Simon¡¯s shoulders slumped. He had let himself get carried away by the possibility. If WAU had schematics for weapons¡ªfirearms, or anything similar that could function underwater¡ªit would have used them by now. The fact that it hadn¡¯t meant they simply didn¡¯t exist.

    ¡°Then show me what schematics you do have. Show me all your projects.¡±

    The orb floated closer to him, and Simon grimaced as he realized WAU intended to transfer the data directly into his mind. His cortex chip, already under strain from everything it had processed, twitched at the thought of another massive influx of information.

    ¡®Could my cortex chip explode from all the data?¡¯ Simon mused, a flicker of unease crawling up his spine.

    ¡°Show me like a list,¡± he instructed instead. ¡°Names, descriptions¡ªpreferably with images if possible.¡±

    The orb pulsed, and then¡ª

    ¡°Damn,¡± Simon muttered, eyes widening as lines upon lines of data unfolded before him. ¡°I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t let it shove all this into my head at once.¡±

    Hundreds, no, thousands of projects were stored within WAU¡¯s memory. Simon carefully sifted through them, brushing past plans for underwater bases, futuristic fish farms, and various other ideas that, while interesting, had no use to him right now.

    Then, something caught his eye.

    ¡°This looks interesting,¡± he murmured, pausing over a project simply titled AI BOX.

    He touched the file, and the information flooded his mind in a controlled transfer.

    The AI BOX was similar in function to a cortex chip, the very thing that housed his consciousness. A Cortex Chip was a type of computer chip designed to store artificial intelligences for robots. Additionally, Cortex Chips appeared to be compatible with neurographs¡ªbut compatibility didn¡¯t mean functionality.

    Cortex Chips weren¡¯t designed to handle human brain scans. If a scanned consciousness experienced extreme emotions, the chip could overload and fail.

    And that was exactly how Catherine¡ªhis Catherine¡ªhad died.

    ¡°In a way, I killed Catherine,¡± Simon whispered, a bitter knot forming in his chest.

    But he forced himself to focus. The AI BOX could solve this problem. Unlike a Cortex Chip, it was designed specifically to house a single neurograph, ensuring stability and preventing catastrophic failure. It functioned like a miniature version of the ARK, but instead of hosting an entire digital world, it was meant for one mind, one existence, one life.

    And its specifications far surpassed those of the Cortex Chip.

    Better data handling.

    Faster processing speeds.

    Greater stability under stress.

    Simon smirked. His mind was about to receive a massive upgrade.

    ¡®With this, I¡¯ll be able to handle huge amounts of data without breaking. No more risking overload.¡¯

    He turned his attention back to WAU, anticipation humming in his circuits.

    ¡°WAU?¡± Simon asked, voice sharper now, laced with intent. ¡°Does Site Phi have the means to fabricate an AI BOX?¡±

    The surface of WAU pulsed¡ªslow, deliberate.

    "The AI BOX can be fabricated at Site Phi. It possesses the advanced manufacturing facilities capable of producing complex devices. Alternatively, Site Theta, as the main facility and headquarters of PATHOS-II, is equipped with comprehensive research and development resources that might support the fabrication of the AI BOX. However, considering the AI BOX''s advanced nature, Site Phi''s specialized equipment would be the most suitable for its production," WAU explained.

    Simon smiled. "For once, this day seems to be getting better and better," he said, excitement creeping into his voice.

    "Well, see you soon, WAU," Simon said. "Log out."

    And just like that, the connection severed.

    Simon removed his hand from the Omnitool slot and turned toward the nearby ladder leading to the storage level. He climbed down, the cold metal rungs vibrating slightly under his grip. The descent wasn¡¯t long¡ªjust a couple of meters¡ªbut the air felt heavier as he reached the bottom.

    Red emergency lights flickered dimly, casting eerie shadows across the room. The remnants of dismantled Omega Space Gun casings were strewn about¡ªsome hanging from rusted hooks, others abandoned in corners like discarded relics of a lost cause. Scattered around were various mechanical components, their original purpose long forgotten. The place smelled of stale air and machine oil, a reminder that no human had walked these halls in a long time.

    Simon stepped into an adjacent chamber¡ªthe one where Catherine¡¯s real body lay.

    She was facedown, her helmeted head resting on the steel floor, blood long ago coagulated beneath her and tangled in her dark hair. The wrench that had ended her life lay beside her.

    Her mummified corpse lay sprawled on its belly, her brittle fingers still reaching toward the console, as if even in death, she had tried to complete her mission. The crack in her skull was unmistakable, a deep indentation from the force of the blow. Time had robbed her body of warmth and color, leaving behind only a hollow, dried husk.

    She was still clad in her Haimatsu Power Suit, its bulk swallowing her small frame. The suit, designed for deep-sea exploration, now served as her tomb. The once-sleek fabric was stiff with time, coated in a fine layer of dust, as though the station itself had forgotten she was ever there.

    Simon had always known that his Catherine  wasn¡¯t truly her¡ªjust a copy, a collection of data inside a fragile Cortex Chip.

    But seeing her like this, alone, abandoned, killed by people she had worked alongside, made the loss feel real in a way he hadn¡¯t been prepared for.

    And worst of all?

    She never even knew.

    She had died before the ARK was launched, before she could see her life¡¯s work succeed. She had died believing she had failed.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Simon  exhaled.

    He had data-mined her Blackbox the first time he had been here, when he loaded the ARK into one of the casings¡ªa device implanted in all PATHOS-II employees that stored their last moments.

    As a digitized intelligence, he could hear the echoes of the dead.

    Through the fragmented memories stored in the Blackbox, he learned the truth¡ª

    Catherine had been killed with a wrench.

    An accident, they called it. A heated argument over the ARK¡¯s launch had escalated. In the chaos, someone struck her. Maybe they hadn''t meant to kill her¡ªmaybe it was a moment of blind frustration. But it didn''t matter. The damage was done.

    Simon had later relayed the details to the Catherine in his Omnitool. She had been shocked. Confused. How could they? Had it really been an accident? Or had they been afraid of what she was trying to do?

    Simon let out a slow breath and turned away from the body. He wasn¡¯t here to mourn.

    He spotted a rectangular battery, slotted into a wall panel. It was roughly the size of a cellphone from his time, just bulkier. He pulled it free, gripping it firmly before casting one last glance at Catherine¡¯s corpse.

    Then, he walked back to the main section of the storage room.

    Slotting the battery into a nearby power socket, the  lights flickered, then flared to life.

    Simon¡¯s gaze drifted across the room, settling on a far corner where a depleted energy node lay¡ªone of WAU¡¯s organic power sources.

    The once bulbous, pulsing structure was now dark and hardening. It had resembled a biological sphincter before, a grotesque, living thing connected to WAU¡¯s greater network. Now, it was dying.

    Simon sighed. "If this thing is hardening, WAU must be dead," he murmured, running his fingers along the stiff, lifeless surface.

    His attention shifted to the rest of the storage room. He scanned the area until his eyes locked onto a fabricator¡ªa massive, industrial-grade machine resembling a 3D printer from his time, only vastly more advanced.

    It stood taller than him, its mechanical arms folded inward, its assembly unit dormant but intact. Thick cables ran from its base to a power terminal, waiting to be reactivated.

    Simon stepped closer, brushing his hand against its smooth, cold exterior. The fabricator could build almost anything, provided he had the right schematics and materials.

    And he had exactly what he needed.

    His mind raced with possibilities. The AI BOX was within reach. A future without the limitations Cortex Chip.

    A true upgrade.

    Simon exhaled sharply, his determination settling like steel in his chest.

    Simon placed his hand on the panel, focusing intently on transmitting the schematics to the device. It took a few attempts. But eventually, the command was received. The machine acknowledged his input, and the fabricator roared to life.

    Its mechanical arms unfolded with precision, the dull hum of energy coursing through its circuits. The interface flickered, confirming receipt of the schematics. With a deep whir, the assembly unit began its intricate dance, meticulously layering materials, forging something beyond human ingenuity.

    Piece by piece, the AI BOX took shape.

    Sleek and slightly larger than a closed fist, the device was impossibly intricate. Its dark, metallic surface was composed of an advanced alloy, reinforced with micro-filament lattices for durability. Thin, glowing white lines etched across its exterior, pulsating rhythmically like a heartbeat¡ªalmost as if the device was alive. These lines weren¡¯t just decorative; they served as conduits for high-speed data transfer, allowing the AI BOX to function seamlessly with any connected system.

    The edges of the device were sharp, yet smooth to the touch, designed for seamless integration into Simon¡¯s neural network. At its center lay a single, recessed core¡ªa crystalline, semi-transparent module encased in a protective shell of hardened structure gel. This core pulsed with an eerie blue-white glow, reminiscent of the deep-sea bioluminescence Simon had encountered during his journey through PATHOS-II.

    The top of the AI BOX featured a circular indentation¡ªa reactive interface designed to bond directly with Simon¡¯s synthetic systems. It would allow for rapid neural synchronization, a level of direct interaction that surpassed the Cortex Chip in both speed and efficiency. Unlike his current hardware, which merely stored his consciousness, this device had the potential to elevate him¡ªto make him something more.

    As the final layer solidified, the fabricator let out a hissing release of pressurized air, cooling the unit and signaling its completion. The AI BOX rested in the machine¡¯s open tray, waiting.

    Simon hesitated for only a moment, his fingers hovering over the device. This wasn¡¯t just an upgrade¡ªit was a declaration. A step beyond what he had been, beyond the limitations imposed upon him. A path toward evolution.

    With a slow exhale, he grasped the AI BOX, feeling its warmth, the hum of its energy resonating against his palm.

    A new beginning had just begun.

    "Now, let''s see if I can connect to this bad boy," Simon muttered, settling himself against the wall. He let out a slow breath and placed his right hand, along with the sealed stump of his left, over his helmet.

    The structure gel shifted, retreating from the seals, and with careful movements, Simon removed the helmet.

    Underneath, there was no human face¡ªno flesh, no skull¡ªonly a pair of cameras mounted onto a T-shaped metal frame. A stark contrast to his broad, powerful body.

    "I bet I look hilarious," Simon mused through the voice modulator built into his suit. "Big body, tiny head. A real freak show."

    His gaze drifted down to the AI BOX cradled in his remaining hand. He traced its glowing surface with his fingertips, a thought forming. ''Could I copy Catherine into this? Bring her back? '' The idea was tempting.

    But after a moment, he shook his head.

    "No. Let her rest in peace," he whispered, pushing the thought away.

    Instead, he carefully positioned the AI BOX near his cortex chip¡ªthe fragile core of his artificial consciousness. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated. The structure gel obeyed, creeping over the AI BOX, fusing it with the cortex chip. The process was slow, painstaking.

    Time blurred. It could have been minutes, hours.

    Then¡ª

    A pulse of light flared from the AI BOX.

    Simon gasped. A sudden clarity flooded his mind. The fog he had been unknowingly living under was gone.

    "Wow," he breathed. "I feel... like I¡¯ve been thinking through mud my whole life. And now¡ªnow everything is so clear."

    His eyes¡ªor rather, his cameras¡ªshifted toward the fabricator.

    He was about to use it a lot.

    Using the structure gel in his body, Simon fashioned a high-speed cable, running it from his AI BOX to the computer deck above, stretching all the way to the storage room. No way was he climbing that ladder over and over every time he needed to speak to WAU.

    The AI BOX made transferring and processing data effortless. He copied project after project from WAU¡¯s vast database, absorbing them like second nature.

    But something still nagged at him.

    Copying information wasn¡¯t enough. He wanted to understand.

    "WAU," Simon said, his voice steady. "Can you teach me? I don¡¯t just want to download blueprints¡ªI want to know how everything works. I want to modify them, improve them. Do you have data on engineering, science, programming?"

    The floating orb of WAU pulsed for a moment, as if considering. Then, slowly, it floated toward Simon.

    He raised his hand to meet it but hesitated. "Don¡¯t just throw everything at me all at once like last time. Slow. Controlled. Let me actually learn."

    WAU pulsed once in acknowledgment.

    Simon pressed his hand to the orb.

    And this time, he was ready.

    A tidal wave of knowledge poured into his mind, but he processed it, sorted it. For the first time, he didn¡¯t feel overwhelmed¡ªhe felt capable. He had always thought of himself as average, nothing special. But now? Now, he felt brilliant.

    The knowledge filled him in ways he never thought possible. He understood engineering concepts with newfound ease¡ªhow machines were built, the intricacies of robotics, and how exosuits could be designed and reinforced. Artificial intelligence was no longer an enigma; he could refine logic structures, create independent decision-making frameworks, and even modify WAU¡¯s neural networks if necessary.

    His own body was now a work of ongoing refinement. Cybernetics and neural interfaces weren¡¯t just theories¡ªhe could apply them, create and optimize augmentations that he could use , and create even better synchronization between his mind and his machine form. The properties of structure gel were laid bare before him, the complexity of its molecular design and its limitless applications. High-density alloys, self-repairing materials, and energy-efficient manufacturing techniques swirled in his mind like second nature.

    Programming, something he had barely understood before, now felt intuitive. He could write and break code with equal proficiency, his mind capable of manipulating software and data structures at will. Biomechanics made sense too¡ªhow organic tissue and structure gel could interact, how enhancements could push biological limits.

    He grasped energy systems now¡ªhow power could be stored, distributed, and harnessed . Even physics and environmental adaptation no longer felt like distant sciences. He understood the calculations behind deep-sea survival, pressure resistance, and even how machines might be built to function beyond Earth¡¯s atmosphere.

    Simon¡¯s hands clenched as the knowledge settled into place. He could see the possibilities in his mind¡¯s eye¡ªthings he never would have understood before. He wasn¡¯t just surviving anymore.

    He was evolving.

    With a slow exhale, he grinned, his cameras adjusting to the  light of the room.

    "Alright," he said, his voice filled with something new. Determination. "Let¡¯s get to work."

 [04]

    Together with WAU, Simon had spent weeks modifying his body, integrating new designs in ways no human¡ªor machine¡ªhad ever attempted before. It had been an exhausting, intricate process, but also, perhaps, the most exhilarating thing he had ever done. After all, how often did someone get the chance to upgrade themselves?

    The fabricator hummed to life, casting flickering shadows as it printed the new components for his suit. Simon watched the process with anticipation, his fingers twitching with the urge to tinker, to perfect. He had already begun shedding his old shell, carefully removing the reinforced plating of the power suit. With each piece he detached, the structure gel beneath it slowly receded, like living tissue pulling away from a wound.

    What remained was little more than the skeletal frame of his body¡ªthe body of Raleigh Herber. She would have been the one to kill WAU if it hadn''t killed her first, before she could even descend into the abyss. The WAU had used electromagnetic frequencies to overload the blackboxes of Omicron¡¯s staff, causing their heads to rupture in an instant. Herber was one of them. Now, all she was¡ªwas an empty scaffold, waiting to be reborn.

    The transformation had been painstaking, but undeniably a success. His suit¡ªif it could still be called that¡ªwas no longer just a remnant of human engineering. It had evolved beyond that, fusing with the living structure gel, becoming something new. Something powerful.

    Where once rigid, mechanical plating had encased him like armor, his new form shifted and flexed like layered musculature, an eerie fusion of organic fluidity and mechanical precision. The material moved with him, responding as if by instinct rather than motion. Beneath its surface, veins of luminescent structure gel pulsed faintly, giving him an almost spectral glow. Every motion felt smoother, more natural.

    Gone were the cumbersome components of his old  gear, the bulky attachments that had once slowed him down. His silhouette had streamlined into something sleek and alien, neither fully human nor entirely machine.

    His helmet had changed as well. The once-clear visor had become semi-opaque, feeding a constant stream of data directly into his mind. No longer limited to a single pair of cameras serving as his eyes, his vision had expanded beyond normal perception. Multi-spectrum sensors now allowed him to see in ways he never could before¡ªheat signatures bled across his vision in warm, pulsating hues, electromagnetic fields shimmered like ghosts in the abyss, and even the faintest currents of movement in the water should ripple across his awareness like delicate tremors.

    A fine network of fiber-optic filaments extended from the back of his helmet like sensory whiskers, undulating slightly as they absorbed information from the world around him. They twitched and shifted in reaction to unseen signals, like the antennae of some deep-sea predator, attuned to disturbances long before they could reach him.

    Beneath the sleek, bio-mechanical design, a reinforced titanium-alloy frame supported his helmet from the inside¡ªan unyielding cage protecting the AI BOX and his cortex chip.

    No force in this ocean, or perhaps even the world above, could break through that shell.

    He was no longer a fragile being trapped inside a machine.

    He was the machine.

    For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Simon didn¡¯t feel like something left behind. He wasn¡¯t just a fading copy, a desperate remnant clinging to the scraps of an extinct humanity.

    He was alive. He had rebuilt himself from the ground up, piece by piece, forging his own evolution with his own hands.

    And he had never felt more real.

    Simon¡¯s arms had become weapons of versatility. His forearms housed a modular system, allowing him to shift seamlessly between integrated tools¡ªa welder, a jackhammer, an EMP emitter¡ªall folding away when not in use. These were not mere attachments; they were a part of him now, seamlessly integrated into his form. He flexed his fingers, testing their precision, feeling the way his body responded as if these functions had always been his.

    He glanced at his forearm as, with a faint mechanical hum, a nanoceramic blade slid out from a hidden compartment. The blade was sleek, dark, and razor-sharp, its wide surface designed for brutal efficiency. A clever mechanism within the sheath allowed it to snap forward under compression, striking with enough force to pierce metal if he was close enough. Simon admired the beautiful, deadly edge, and somewhere in the depths of his mind, he smirked¡ªor at least, he thought he did. In reality, he had no face to express such an emotion, but his mind filled in the gaps, fooling him into believing he did. It wasn¡¯t a bad thing, really. It reminded him that despite his body being an amalgamation of organic and cybernetic elements, his mind was still human.

    His hands, once stiff and mechanical, now morphed with purpose. The fingers could elongate for precision tasks, fuse into reinforced plating for impact, or sharpen into claw-like appendages when needed. Beneath the surface, the structure gel shifted and hardened at will, reinforcing his limbs for moments requiring extreme strength. He was no longer limited by frail human dexterity¡ªhis touch was adaptable, his grip absolute.

    The chest of his suit bore a subtle but unmistakable change. Embedded within the plating, just beneath the surface, pulsed a small, glowing core¡ªa WAU nexus. It was his own computational hub, separate from the AI Box, designed to amplify his processing power. Every upgrade he had added to his frame demanded more resources, and this nexus ensured he could handle it all. His thoughts were faster, more precise, his perception expanding beyond what he had ever imagined. The armor itself had become self-sustaining. Minor abrasions and damage would seal themselves over time as the structure gel worked  to maintain his integrity. Certain panels of his suit reconfigured dynamically, forming temporary energy-dispersal plating to shield him from impacts and extreme pressure.

    His legs, once burdened by the weight of heavy boots, had transformed into something far more efficient. His feet had evolved into adaptive gripping mechanisms, shifting their shape in real-time to maintain traction on any terrain. When submerged, retractable fins and propulsion jets activated, propelling him effortlessly through the water. His entire form had been hydrodynamically optimized, turning him into a true denizen of the deep. Even the shock-absorption system had been enhanced¡ªhe could leap from towering heights without fear, his suit redistributing the kinetic force seamlessly upon landing.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see if it works,¡± Simon murmured, activating one of his newest modifications.

    A moment later, he vanished.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Simon held up his hand, or at least, where his hand should have been. His fingers, his arm, his entire body had blended into the environment, becoming indistinguishable from the background.

    ¡°Wow,¡± he breathed, the awe unmistakable in his voice. ¡°This is so awesome.¡±

    A chameleon-like effect had taken hold, allowing the structure of his armor to adjust its refractive properties and render him nearly invisible. Electromagnetic insulation protected him from sonar and radio scans, ensuring hostile machines could no longer track him so easily.

    His suit had become more than a tool¡ªit was an extension of himself, evolving as he did, an ever-changing manifestation of the entity he was becoming.

    He was no longer simply Simon, the lost consciousness wandering the abyss. He had become something more, something beyond what either man or WAU had intended. He was the bridge between both worlds, forged in the depths, ready to carve his own path forward.

    <hr>

    Simon stood in an empty, dark void, staring at the floating orb before him¡ªthe backup of WAU, the intelligence that had kept him company for the past few weeks, guiding him, helping him forge his new body.

    "I''m leaving in a few minutes," Simon informed the AI.

    Despite everything he had endured because of it, he couldn''t deny a strange sense of pity. WAU had never acted out of malice. It was simply following its programming, preserving what it believed to be the last remnants of humanity. Yes, it had created horrors¡ªtwisted, grotesque things that could drive any normal person to madness¡ªbut in its own distorted way, it had only been trying to fulfill its purpose.

    The orb remained silent, showing no response.

    Simon let out a small, bitter chuckle. "Of course," he thought. "WAU has no feelings."

    For all its intelligence, for all its vast reach, it lacked what Simon still clung to¡ªthe fragile remnants of human emotion.

    "Well, goodbye then," he said softly, reaching out and disconnecting the server that housed WAU¡¯s backup.

    The floating orb flickered once, then vanished.

    Simon took a deep breath¡ªnot that he needed to breathe anymore. But the habit still remained. A remnant of his past self. His real self.

    It was time to leave this place. To ascend to the surface. To finally see the world beyond this abyss.

    He knew, deep down, that everything above had been obliterated. The impact had wiped the slate clean. Yet, hope still clung to him like a stubborn ember. Perhaps, somewhere, there were survivors. Maybe an underground bunker still held human life. Maybe some secret AI installation lay hidden deep within the Earth¡¯s core, waiting to be discovered.

    "I''ve had enough of this place," Simon sighed to himself.

    He turned off the remaining machinery, letting the facility fall into silence. Reaching for the battery slotted into the wall, he pulled it free. The lights dimmed instantly, the emergency systems flickering to life in response, powered only by the last vestiges of backup energy. His chest plate opened with a mechanical hiss, exposing a compartment within his suit. Carefully, he slotted the battery inside, securing an additional power source for the journey ahead. The chest plate clicked back into place, sealing with an air of finality.

    He turned toward the adjacent room.

    Catherine¡¯s body lay there, untouched for who knew how long. The remnants of her flesh, clung to the bones in tattered fragments. Simon knelt beside her and gently turned her body so that she lay on her back.

    For a long moment, he simply looked at her face.

    The sting of betrayal still lingered, but it was dull now, fading with time. Despite everything¡ªthe deception, the choices she made for him¡ªshe had been his companion in this darkness. His last connection to something resembling humanity.

    "You left me," he whispered.

    There was no anger in his voice. No resentment. Just a quiet sadness.

    His belief in God had all but vanished after everything he had witnessed. The horrors, the emptiness, the sheer absence of meaning in this abyss. And yet, something compelled him to act. A quiet reverence, perhaps. A final kindness for someone who had meant something to him.

    He murmured a short prayer, though he wasn¡¯t sure for whom. For her? For himself? For the world they had lost?

    It didn¡¯t matter.

    He stood, casting one last glance at Catherine¡¯s resting place before turning away.

    The surface awaited.

    And it would be a long road.

    <hr>

    Simon climbed the ladder to the upper level and stepped into the dimly lit, semicircular hall, heading toward the decompression chamber. Every step echoed in the oppressive silence, his reinforced frame making little sound despite the metal beneath his feet.

    When he reached the chamber, he placed his hand on the panel. The door sealed shut behind him with a deep hiss, and within moments, water flooded into the small space. It was a familiar sensation now, the weightless embrace of the deep. The second door unlocked, revealing the path he had taken when he first arrived here¡ªthe same path where he had run for his life from that monstrous, worm-like creature.

    The pole-mounted lights still worked, their beams cutting through the suffocating blackness of the abyss. More than 4,000 meters below the surface, the world around him was an endless void, the pressure immense, the darkness absolute. The artificial lights created stark contrasts, revealing floating particles and distant structures, but they did nothing to make him feel safer. If that thing was still out here, no amount of light would help him.

    "Now that I think about it, I don¡¯t even need them anymore," Simon mused. His optical upgrades allowed him to see in complete darkness with perfect clarity. "Maybe I should turn back and find a way to shut them off."

    Instead, he activated his cloaking system. A barely audible hum vibrated through his frame, and the world around him subtly distorted as his body blended seamlessly into the abyss. Invisible to the naked eye, he stepped carefully through the open door, mindful of every movement. Despite all his upgrades, fear still clung to him like a phantom, its icy fingers running down his spine.

    The whiskers at the back of his helmet twitched. A signal.

    ''Shit.''

    His vision shifted as he activated his infrared and heat sensors. The world bled into hues of orange and red, heat signatures standing out against the cold expanse of the deep. And there, lurking in the distance, was the monster.

    The massive worm-like creature, its grotesque form the size of a car, drifted through the abyss. Its long tentacles rippled as they propelled it forward, its single, glowing red eye scanning its surroundings with eerie precision. The mandibles twitched, clicking together in an almost nervous rhythm. A shiver ran through Simon, despite the fact that he had no true skin to feel it. The sight of the creature dredged up memories of the desperate chase, of the panic, of the suffocating realization that he had been utterly helpless against it back then.

    Carefully, methodically, he moved. He used the debris around him as cover, inching forward, making sure not to disturb the water too much. Every movement was calculated, deliberate. His cloaking device drained his reserves, but once inside Alpha, he could connect to its power grid and recharge. He just needed to get past this thing first.

    Finally, the mound that marked Alpha¡¯s entrance came into view. It loomed ahead, its base hiding the tunnel that led inside. But something was off.

    Simon hesitated. He remembered this place vividly¡ªthe mound had been covered in WAU¡¯s growths, pulsing tendrils of structure gel creeping along the surface like living veins. The sickly bioluminescent glow of the infection had been impossible to miss. He had been too preoccupied with escaping the monster to focus on it before, but now, as he stared, a deep sense of unease settled over him.

    There was nothing. The growths were gone. The tendrils, the lights, all of it¡ªvanished.

    ''Is WAU still alive?'' Simon wondered.

    He reached the entrance, stepping into the tunnel. The walls, once coated in pulsating, organic corruption, were bare now¡ªcold, lifeless metal. It was surreal, like stepping into a hollowed-out corpse.

    As he walked deeper, he arrived at the central chamber.

    His breath hitched.

    ''What the fuck? Am I going crazy ?''

    His voice echoed in the empty space, bouncing off smooth, clean walls that should not have been clean.

    Site Alpha had once been the very heart of WAU¡ªits core,  where its influence had spread like a pulsating tumor. The last time he had stood here, the room had been dominated by a massive, grotesque, heart-like mass of structure gel, pulsating with unnatural life.

    But now, there was nothing.

    The chamber had been wiped clean, sterilized, erased as if WAU had never existed.

    A deep chill settled over him, far colder than the abyss outside.

 [05]

    Simon activated the silencers in his legs, ensuring that each step he took was utterly soundless as he moved down the corridor. The water brushed against his body, swirling around him in slow currents. The entire site was still submerged, yet now, moving through it in silence, it felt eerily surreal.

    The last time he had walked this corridor, every inch of it had been covered in structure gel¡ªtendrils and tumor-like growths creeping along the walls like living veins. But now, the space was bare. Just cold, unfeeling metal. No organic traces of WAU¡¯s corruption. No pulsing growths. Just emptiness.

    His ceramic blade inched out from the compartment in his left forearm, sliding into position with a barely audible click. Ready. Just in case.

    His right forearm shifted silently, the EMP barrel extending into place. His sensors remained active, scanning the area for any anomaly, any disturbance.

    He was almost through. The corridor ahead led into the server room. But just as he was about to step through the broken doorway, movement flickered in his peripheral vision. Something small scurried from one side of the room to the other.

    Simon whipped his EMP gun up, ready to fire.

    He froze. Still as a statue, he waited. Seconds stretched into eternity. But nothing happened.

    His sensors logged the anomaly and replayed the captured footage. A video played in his HUD.

    ''A spider? '' he thought, narrowing his focus.

    The recording displayed a small, grey, arachnoid-like creature, its four segmented legs moving with unsettling precision. Its body was sleek, its form almost mechanical. A cluster of luminous, bluish-green eyes shone from its head, flickering for a brief moment before it disappeared into the shadows.

    The structure gel along Simon¡¯s frame reacted instinctively, hardening in preparation for an attack. If something lunged at him, it wouldn¡¯t do much damage. His body was stronger now. Reinforced. But still, the sight of the spider set him on edge.

    The server racks still blinked with faint lights¡ªevidence of lingering power. He found a terminal embedded in the wall and placed his hand on it. Structure gel crept from his palm, tendrils of dark liquid threading into the device like a growing root system.

    His batteries started charging instantly.

    A brief surge of warmth spread through his frame as energy refilled his reserves. The process was quick, efficient. As soon as he was fully recharged, Simon withdrew from the connection and continued on his way.

    He passed through a room filled with abandoned lab equipment, climbed a short staircase, and finally reached what used to be the decompression chamber. The doors remained open, their mechanical locks disabled long ago.

    Simon stepped outside.

    He found himself in a narrow underwater ravine. Towering stone walls rose on either side, stretching several meters high. The passage was barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The darkness  was near-total, swallowing everything.

    Carefully, he moved forward. Just a few dozen meters, and he would reach the cargo tunnel.

    Then he stopped.

    His cameras focused ahead, adjusting to capture a better view of something just beyond the natural rock formations.

    "What¡¯s that?" he murmured.

    A spiral. A towering, black spiral stood just a few meters ahead, its coils twisting upward like an unnatural monument. Simon remembered this area¡ªthere had once been a hydrothermal vent there. But now, instead of a bubbling fissure in the ocean floor, this strange formation had taken its place.

    It looked¡­ natural. Almost. But the texture was all wrong.

    Metal-like plates stacked on one another, interlocking like the scales of a fish. The deeper he analyzed it, the more unsettling the details became. It wasn¡¯t formed by natural processes. It had been built.

    Simon steeled himself.

    "Come on, Simon. You can do this," he muttered, willing himself to step forward.

    His sensors pulsed, scanning the structure as he approached. No heat signature. No movement. No immediate danger. Yet something felt wrong.

    Then the realization hit him.

    The spiral was made of structure gel.

    Simon¡¯s mind raced. Someone¡ªor something¡ªhad gathered all the structure gel they could find and had started building with it. But that didn¡¯t make sense. Only an AI could manipulate structure gel in this way, bending it to a purpose beyond its original function.

    ''Is there another AI present? Had something else taken control of the remnants WAU had left behind? Is WAU somehow still alive?''

    Simon¡¯s thoughts spiraled as he recalled the mechanical spider. Was it related to this? Was it a worker, an extension of something larger? A fragment of WAU trying to rebuild itself? Or was it something new¡ªsomething entirely unknown?

    Whatever the answer was, Simon was no longer alone down here.

    And he was sure it wasn''t  a good thing.

    The whiskers behind Simon¡¯s helmet twitched.

    Something was coming. Something big.

    It was approaching from above the ravine, just behind him.

    Simon didn¡¯t hesitate. He activated his cloaking system and pressed himself tightly against the ravine wall, moving in slow, measured steps. He waited, barely breathing¡ªan old reflex that no longer mattered but still clung to him.

    If it was the worm monster, he couldn¡¯t afford to let it spot him. That thing could burrow through metal like it was paper.

    Then it appeared.

    The worm monster.

    Its massive, segmented body moved fluidly through the water, circling the strange black spiral before coming to a halt.

    Simon¡¯s sensors focused on the creature, tracking every movement. Its long, coiling tentacles wrapped around the spire, gripping it tightly. Then, inexplicably, the monster became utterly still¡ªlike a statue, suspended in the deep.

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    Simon narrowed his vision, analyzing the temperature readings. Something was happening. A reaction.

    The heat signature between the creature and the spiral was growing. Both of them¡ªmassive, alien in form¡ªwere relatively cold, yet...

    The point of contact between them was heating up, like an unseen pulse passing between them.

    Then, as suddenly as it had come, the creature released the spire, unwinding its tentacles and gliding silently into the abyss. It rose above the ravine and vanished.

    Simon waited. One minute. Then another. He had deactivated his cloaking system to conserve power, but he remained still, his processors running countless scenarios in the background.

    Finally, convinced that he was alone, he stepped away from the ravine wall and approached the spiral.

    He stared at it for a few moments before reaching out and pressing his hand against its surface.

    A sharp, tingling sensation pricked his fingers.

    ''This thing is charging me,'' he realized. Energy was coursing through the spire, faint but undeniable.

    He withdrew his hand, piecing it together. ''The spire is using the heat from the hydrothermal vent to generate electricity.''

    Simon stepped back. Whatever was happening here, he wasn¡¯t eager to find out more.

    As he continued his path, he encountered another one.

    A second spire, identical to the first.

    But this time, he wasn¡¯t alone.

    Dozens of spider-like creatures, identical to the one he had seen scurrying at Site Alpha, clung to its surface. Their four segmented legs gripped the structure with eerie stillness, their bluish-green eyes flickering faintly in the deep.

    Simon instinctively tensed but moved carefully, activating his cloaking system again. Between his silenced steps and near-invisibility, there was no way they could detect him.

    He moved around them, slipping unnoticed past their silent vigil.

    The ravine ended in a narrow stone tunnel. Crawling through the tight space, Simon finally emerged into the cargo tunnel.

    The tunnel was intact¡ªits lights still flickering weakly, cutting thin beams through the water. For the first time in a while, he felt some relief. But he wasn¡¯t safe yet.

    His gaze flicked upward, focusing on the ceiling.

    Only a wire mesh separated the tunnel from the outside abyss.

    If the worm spotted him now, the mesh wouldn¡¯t stop it. Not even for a second.

    Simon moved quickly but carefully, keeping his sensors attuned to any sign of movement. His cloaking system was draining energy fast, but he didn¡¯t dare deactivate it yet. Not here.

    Finally, he reached the decompression chamber at the end of the tunnel.

    He gazed up ahead at the tunnel. The passage connected directly to Phi, but a landslide had blocked most of it. He was glad he hadn¡¯t chosen to dig through¡ªit would have made too much noise. Noise that would have surely attracted the worm monster.

    He placed his hand on the control panel. The door behind him sealed shut. A moment later, the water began to drain.

    For the first time in what felt like hours, Simon allowed himself to relax.

    His shoulders rolled, his frame loosening slightly as the pressure equalized. Then the door before him slid open.

    He was officially inside Site Tau.

    He stepped into the equipment room. To his right, he saw large storage cabinets that had once housed deep-sea power suits¡ªjust like the one he used to wear.

    His gaze drifted to the farthest locker on the right.

    It was filled with hardened structure gel. Metal bits jutted out from its mass, now solid as stone.

    To his left, near the corner, sat the freight lift¡ªthe same one he had used to bring the ARK down from the upper level. The memories of that moment flickered through his mind. The hope. The desperation. The finality of it all.

    He turned away and moved toward the exit, stepping through the door as it slid open.

    A ladder led upward.

    Climbing, Simon took in his surroundings. Large portions of the walls were covered in hardened structure gel, its dark veins creeping along the metal.

    At the top, he stepped into the common area of Tau.

    The rectangular room looked almost exactly as it had when Simon first set foot inside.

    In the center sat a large, rectangular table, cluttered with remnants of the past. Empty ration packs, opened cans licked clean of any trace of food, plastic bottles, and dry-food boxes lay scattered across the surface, abandoned long ago. Two pairs of headphones rested tangled in the mess, alongside a few small computer cameras coated in dust. Everything in the room reeked of desperation¡ªof people who had clung to survival, rationing their last meals, clinging to life even as the end crept closer and closer.

    The room had ten sliding doors: the one behind him, three to his right, two ahead, and three to his left. To his immediate right, near the freight lift, was a door leading to the upper level.

    Simon¡¯s gaze lingered on the walls, the ceiling, even the floor. Hardened veins of structure gel covered nearly every surface, dark and lifeless, protruding in unnatural, bulbous growths. The creeping corruption that once pulsed with an eerie, sickly glow had been drained of its power. It was hollow now¡ªfossilized remnants of WAU¡¯s long reach.

    His eyes flickered to a familiar sight¡ªone of the WAU¡¯s sphincter-like growths, fused into the side of the freight lift. This one, like the others, had solidified into uselessness. Empty.

    Simon took a slow step forward. His mind drifted to the corpse on the upper level.

    ''I should check her body.''

    The thought passed through him like an obligation, yet there was no urgency in his movements. His gaze shifted toward the mainframe embedded in the wall. He stepped closer, pressing his hand against its surface. Instantly, the structure gel in his fingers reacted, tendrils extending and threading into the system. Data unraveled before his mind¡¯s eye, fragmented lines of corrupted logs and degraded files spilling across his vision like the last, dying remnants of a fading signal.

    At the same time he charged his batteries.

    Simon flicked through the station¡¯s systems, searching for any active feeds. He found the last few functioning cameras, their grainy, low-light footage flickering to life.

    His fingers twitched. Synthetic muscles tensed.

    "He¡¯s still alive."

    The words left his speaker, barely more than a whisper.

    The realization settled over him like a weight. He had to deal with it. He had to end it. What was all the work he had put into his body for, if all he did was run away like he always had? The thought felt foolish, but deep down, he knew he needed to prove himself¡ªto grow beyond the frightened man he once was.

    The thing in this station was still here.

    Still moving.

    Still waiting.

    Simon¡¯s mind was already racing with possibilities, strategies. There was no avoiding it. If he was going to navigate Tau, he needed to be ready.

    But first, knowing that it was still alive gave him a reason to check another place¡ªthe rooms to his right.

    "Ah, the smell," Simon muttered in disgust as his sensors registered the overwhelming stench of decay. The last time he had been here, his old body hadn''t been capable of detecting scent. Now, with his upgraded sensory input, he almost regretted that he could.

    He stepped inside the cramped, simple room. A few drawers, a locker, and a shelf lined the walls, their surfaces coated in dust and grime. Large portions of the walls and floor were encased in hardened structure gel, its dark veins sprawling like the fossilized remains of something once alive.

    Simon¡¯s gaze shifted to the two small beds on either side of the room¡ªand to what lay upon them.

    To his right rested the remains of a former crew member of Pathos-II, now encased in what resembled a plated cocoon. The grotesque mass was the size of a man, its shell-like armor fused into an unrecognizable shape. At first glance, there was no way to determine if this thing had ever been human, but the unmistakable signs were there¡ªa single arm and a leg dangled limply from the side, poking through the gaps where the plates interlocked. A tragic, twisted mockery of what WAU had once considered preservation.

    His gaze then moved to the left.

    There, sprawled motionless, was another corpse¡ªor what remained of one. A blood-stained rag covered its body, but protruding from beneath it were three tendrils, each ending in small, lifeless cameras. The body had fused with the structure gel coating the wall.

    Simon remembered the first time he set foot inside this room. Back then, the corpse beneath the blanket had moved. The cameras had twitched, scanning, watching¡ªaware.

    Now, it was silent.

    Dead¡ªor at least, in the process of dying.

    Simon stepped forward, reaching out with his hand. The structure gel in his fingertips extended, tendrils weaving into the husk, siphoning away the last, lingering traces of energy. The body trembled for a fraction of a second before stiffening completely. The tendrils shrank, their last function extinguished. The once-moving corpse was now nothing more than an empty shell.

    He turned to the cocoon on the right and did the same.

    Then, he stepped into the next room.

    The room was empty.

    Simon walked to the bed at the far end and stood over it.

    "There should have been a body here," he murmured to himself.

    Something wasn¡¯t right.

    He moved to the next room.

    ''Here, there should have been two bodies''.

    One that had been reanimated by WAU, and another that had remained untouched. A still, preserved corpse.

    But now, there was nothing.

    A chill ran down Simon¡¯s spine.

    Something had taken them.

 [06]

    Simon rushed out of the room and headed straight for the door marked Infirmary. His synthetic fingers slammed against the button on the side panel, and the door slid open in two smooth halves. Without hesitation, he stepped inside and climbed the ladder leading to the upper level.

    The rungs creaked under his weight as he ascended, his sensors taking in every detail. His mind raced with anticipation, dreading what he might find¡ªor not find¡ªat the top.

    When he reached the infirmary, he froze.

    The room stretched before him, much like the rest of Tau¡ªsilent, abandoned, and overrun by grotesque, hardened structure gel. It clung to the walls and floor in fossilized veins.

    Simon stood in the doorway, motionless. His cameras locked onto the medical chair to his right.

    His processors stalled for a fraction of a second. His mind refused to accept what he was seeing.

    "No¡­ they took her too," he murmured, his voice barely more than static. "Sarah¡­"

    His fists clenched at his sides.

    He wasn¡¯t angry. Not really. What he felt was worse¡ªregret, sorrow, an emptiness so profound it almost made him forget that he no longer had a human heart to feel it.

    She had suffered a fate worse than death.

    Sarah had endured unimaginable loneliness, starvation, and despair. She had watched her friends die, one by one, in the cold, suffocating depths of the ocean. And in the end, she had been left alone, the last guardian of something greater than herself.

    Simon had learned her story throughout his journey, piece by piece, from the black boxes of her fallen companions. Each fragmented recording painted a picture of her struggle¡ªher unshakable will, her desperate hope, and the crushing weight of her responsibility.

    He had listened to the ARK team¡¯s final days¡ªtheir voices breaking as they journeyed from Omicron to Tau, their last attempt to ensure humanity¡¯s survival. He had mined the black boxes of Ian and Jasper, heard Sarah comforting her friends as they wasted away, as they begged her to finish what they could not.

    But in the end... she didn''t.

    And then he had arrived.

    When Simon had found her, she had been nothing but skin and bone, hooked up to a failing life support system. She was the last¡ªperhaps the only¡ªliving human left on Earth. And she had spent her final days protecting the ARK, the last flicker of hope for a species perhaps already extinct.

    She had let him take the ARK, but the truth had destroyed her. When he told her that no one else had survived, that the world above was nothing but ruin, she had broken. The weight of it all¡ªthe knowledge that she was utterly, completely alone¡ªhad been too much.

    She had asked him to end it, to unplug the life support keeping her alive.

    And he had.

    Simon had granted her final wish.

    A mercy. A release. A way to escape the slow, suffocating death of solitude.

    Just as he had to the first Simon...

    He could still hear her voice, echoing in the depths of his memory, the last human''s final words.

    She had spoken of her life in Greenland before the comet, of the friends she had made, of the people she had lost. She had clung to those memories, even as the darkness closed in around her.

    And before she took her last breath, she had begged him¡ª

    "Send the ARK into space. Let humanity live among the stars."

    And he had done it.

    Despite everything, despite all the suffering, he had succeeded.

    But standing here, in the empty infirmary, staring at the vacant space where she had once lain¡­

    It didn¡¯t feel like a victory.

    It felt like another ghost added to the long list of the dead.

    Simon walked back to the ladder and descended. He approached the mainframe and connected to it, structure gel flowing from his fingertips as the system linked with his mind.

    Digging through the files, he searched for security footage. He sifted through weeks of recordings, scanning, analyzing¡ªuntil something made him stop.

    "What?" Simon murmured, his synthetic voice laced with confusion.

    Two weeks ago, two people wearing Haimatsu Power Suits had entered the station.

    They looked normal.

    No mutations. No signs of structure gel corruption. Their movements were precise, controlled¡ªcompletely unlike the shambling husks of WAU¡¯s creations.

    ''But this is impossible. Everyone should be dead.''

    Simon¡¯s mind raced. The last living human had died by his own hands. There was no one left. And yet, these people walked through the halls of Tau as if they belonged there.

    For the first time in a long while, Simon felt something stir inside him.

    Hope.

    He fast-forwarded through the footage, his focus sharpening. As the two figures stepped out of the pressurization chamber, one of them retrieved something from their suit¡ªa small, glowing bluish orb.

    Simon zoomed in on it but he had no way of determining what it was. The orb pulsed faintly in the dim light, almost alive.

    Then, movement.

    Jin Yoshida.

    The corrupted man, the broken horror that still roamed the station. He had once been a human, but now, his shattered helmet housed nothing but writhing, dark tendrils that slithered where a face should have been.

    Hearing the door open, he screeched, an unnatural, high-pitched wail that echoed through the corridors. Then he shambled toward them, his body twisting unnaturally, tendrils reaching out, hunger in his every motion.

    But just as he was about to pounce¡ª

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    He froze.

    Like a statue. Motionless. Unmoving.

    One of the strangers stepped forward, unfazed. They grabbed Jin and dragged him away like dead weight. Simon could hardly process what he was seeing.

    ''What just happened?''

    They descended deeper into the site, checking every door, every room, methodically sweeping through every corridor and nook.

    Then one of them spoke.

    "Lock it there."

    The other quickly hauled Jin into a room before sealing the door shut. The orb remained in their grip, faintly pulsing.

    Simon watched as they reached the living quarters. The heavy bulwark vault door had already been opened¡ªby him. They stepped inside, carefully scanning the area. The ladder Simon had used had been broken from his descent, the fall still vivid in his memory. One of them retrieved a rope and lowered themselves down.

    Simon¡¯s focus sharpened.

    They weren¡¯t just exploring. They had purpose.

    They found the bodies.

    Without hesitation, they began preparing them for transport. One of them pulled out a black cube and placed it beside the corpses. Simon tensed as he watched.

    The cube moved.

    Its surface shifted, turned liquid, oozing like a living thing. It slithered over the bodies, enveloping them, forming gelatinous cocoons around each one.

    Simon¡¯s processors surged.

    "That thing¡­ it must be made from structure gel," he theorized.

    The strangers hauled the cocooned bodies onto their shoulders, carrying three of them as they made their way toward the exit. The footage ended there¡ªno cameras outside to track where they had gone.

    Simon disconnected from the mainframe, his mind whirring with possibilities.

    "This is very strange," he muttered to himself.

    He replayed the details in his mind¡ªthe orb that could paralyze structure-gel-infested creatures. The black cube that could preserve bodies. The people who walked through this nightmare as if they belonged here.

    His hope wavered.

    If there were others, it meant he wasn¡¯t alone.

    But if they had technology capable of stopping creatures like Jin Yoshida, of harvesting bodies with structure gel¡ª

    Who were they?

    And more importantly¡ª

    Why the hell they took the bodies ?

    "I need to find them," Simon decided. "But first, I need to pay Jin a visit."

    Using the mainframe, he remotely unlocked the door to the room where Jin was locked away.

    The shuffling monstrosity quickly stumbled out, resuming its eerie patrol of the station. He wandering somewhere near the decompression chamber that led out of Site Tau.

    Simon rolled his shoulders. His synthetic muscles shifted with quiet efficiency.

    "Come on, Simon, you can do this," he muttered to himself.

    His cameras flickered to life, mapping out the best route. The mysterious visitors had taken the rope when they left, but Simon didn¡¯t need it. His processors had already calculated the trajectory.

    He took a shallow squat and jumped.

    The broken ladder was several meters above him. Even with his full height, it was an impossible reach for a human. But for Simon, it was effortless. He soared through the darkness and landed without a sound, his mechanical limbs absorbing the impact with ease.

    The passage ahead was a tight, tubular hallway¡ªpitch black. A few minutes ago, the lights had still been on, but Simon had turned them all off. He didn¡¯t need them. But Jin, despite his monstrous appearance, still did.

    Simon moved like a ghost, his silenced steps making no sound as he traversed the station. His attention remained split¡ªhalf focused on his radar, tracking Jin¡¯s position, half scanning the darkness ahead. The still-functioning cameras fed him information, keeping him aware of every movement Jin made. Even disconnected from the mainframe, Simon was the station now. He had control of everything within it.

    Down the dark halls, he suddenly stopped.

    Jin was ahead.

    The deformed creature shambled through the darkness, his body moving in an unnatural, jerky rhythm. From time to time, he stumbled into the walls, only to correct himself and continue his aimless patrol.

    Simon inched closer, his blades already extending from his wrists.

    Two meters.

    One meter.

    Simon moved.

    Time slowed. His reflexes accelerated, the world sharpening to a razor¡¯s edge.

    He raised his blades¡ª

    And brought them down in one swift motion.

    Two heavy thuds echoed in the silence.

    Jin¡¯s arms hit the floor.

    A horrific screech tore through the air as a dark tendril shot from his helmet, lunging toward Simon¡¯s face.

    Simon sidestepped effortlessly. Without his arms, Jin¡¯s only defense was the writhing mass where his face should have been.

    But not for long.

    Simon ducked low and slashed. His blade met flesh and metal alike, cutting through Jin¡¯s legs below the knee.

    Jin crashed forward, falling hard on his belly. He thrashed violently, his body convulsing as he tried to crawl, his tendrils lashing wildly. The creature refused to stop. Even in pieces, it fought.

    Simon pressed his foot down on its back, pinning it in place.

    Then, with a single precise motion, he severed Jin¡¯s head.

    The head rolled slightly, the black tendrils writhing in distress. And then¡ª

    It moved.

    The severed head lunged at Simon, propelled by its writhing appendages.

    The tendrils lashed out, wrapping around his arm like a vice. The force would have crushed human bones¡ªbut Simon no longer had bones to break.

    His free arm moved, wrist-blade flashing.

    With a clean thrust, the blade pierced the helmet, cutting through metal and skull alike, emerging from the other side in a spray of liquefied structure gel.

    The tendrils tightened¡ªthen convulsed wildly.

    Simon¡¯s structure gel spread from his blade, crawling into Jin¡¯s skull, siphoning every last trace of energy.

    The tentacles thrashed violently¡ª

    Then slowed¡ª

    Then went limp.

    Simon withdrew his blade. The head fell to the floor with a dull thud.

    The remaining structure gel inside it had already begun to harden.

    Simon exhaled.

    His shoulders relaxed. His reflexes slowed. Time returned to normal.

    The fight was over.

    Jin Yoshida was finally dead.

    "Rest in peace, Jin," Simon muttered as he turned away, his voice hollow, the sentiment more ritual than heartfelt. He had no illusions that there was anything left of the man to find peace. Still, it felt right to say it.

    He headed down the hall toward the decompression chamber. The door behind him sealed shut with a hiss, and water began to flood the chamber, enveloping him in the familiar cold embrace of the abyss. The pressure stabilized. The door before him slid open, revealing the short tunnel that led outside.

    Simon stepped through, his sensors immediately scanning the area.

    The ocean stretched endlessly before him, swallowing all sound, all movement. He adjusted his vision, switching through multiple spectrums¡ªinfrared, electromagnetic, sonar. The currents around him were strong, turbulent as always. The poles that marked the path to the Abyss Climber Rig swayed lightly ,their beacons to only source of light ahead . This was the only way to the surface.

    Almost there.

    The Omega Sector was positioned near a fault line. Geological activity kept the waters unstable, with violent currents making any attempt to traverse the Abyss by foot nearly impossible. This was why the path of lights existed¡ªto serve a dual function: guiding travelers and keeping the local fauna at bay. The creatures of the Abyss had been made far more aggressive by WAU¡¯s influence, twisted into very territorial predators that prowled the deep.

    But WAU was gone now.

    So what did that mean for the creatures left behind?

    Simon had assumed, logically, that without the WAU¡¯s directives, the creatures should have returned to their natural behavior, less hostile.

    But after what he had just seen with Jin, he wasn¡¯t sure of anything anymore.

    His sensors picked up something unusual¡ªsomething that sent an uneasiness through his  mind.

    The structure gel was gone.

    Just like Site Alpha, Tau had been wiped clean.

    Simon turned his gaze back toward the station, scanning its exterior. He remembered how it had once been¡ªcoated in thick,  strands of gel, infesting every surface, even filling the shattered portions of the structure. But now? It was sterile. As if something had carefully scraped it away.

    That thought disturbed him.

    ''Why remove the gel outside but leave the gel inside untouched?''

    ''They could have depressurized Tau entirely and then clean it out, but they didn¡¯t.''

    ''Why were they keeping it sealed ?''

    He shifted his attention back to his scans. To his right, faint power suit signals flickered at the periphery of the station¡¯s detection range.

    The two strangers.

    The station had linked to them automatically the moment they had entered Tau and had kept tracking them since then.

    Their location made no sense.

    ''There¡¯s nothing out there. No structure, no wreckage. Nothing but the barren, lifeless ocean floor. So what the hell are they doing there?''

    Simon turned in their direction, adjusting his stance as the powerful current pushed against him. His legs shifted, his feet gripping the seabed with reinforced hydraulics.

    Then, his dorsal propulsion activated, countering the current¡¯s force.

    A deep red light began to pulse from his form.

    At first, it seemed counterintuitive¡ªto light himself up in the abyss, to become visible in a place where invisibility meant survival.

    But it was a calculated move.

    Most deep-sea creatures had evolved to be red or black, a natural camouflage. In these depths, red light doesn¡¯t reflect back¡ªit simply vanishes.

    To the lifeforms of the abyss, Simon would be invisible.

    He could activate his cloaking system, but that would drain too much energy. He needed every reserve he had for whatever lay ahead.

    And so, he walked.

 [07]

    Simon stopped. His sensors locked onto the structure ahead.

    It was unlike anything he had ever seen before.

    Three spirals, each rising ten meters into the abyss, stood in a triangular formation. Smoke curled from their peaks, drifting lazily into the water above. The entire site had likely been built atop a geothermal vent, harnessing the planet¡¯s heat for power.

    The construction was eerily similar to the spirals he had encountered at Site Alpha¡ª

    Metal-like plates, stacked upon one another like the scales of a deep-sea leviathan.

    Simon¡¯s processors worked rapidly, piecing together the truth.

    ''Now I know where all the structure gel went.''

    Then he froze.

    A familiar sensation rippled through his sensors¡ªa shift in water displacement. Something massive was moving behind him.

    The worm.

    Simon immediately shut down his lights and activated his cloaking system.

    His cameras locked onto the colossal creature as it slithered past, mere meters to his left. Its immense body moved with slow, deliberate precision, gliding toward the spiraling towers of the structure.

    Simon remained perfectly still.

    The worm rose above the spirals¡ªhovering, watching¡ªbefore diving straight down into the structure.

    And then¡­ nothing.

    It didn¡¯t come back out.

    Simon waited, his synthetic muscles tense, every sensor scanning the area for anomalies. But the abyss remained eerily silent.

    Finally, he deactivated his cloaking system and carefully moved forward, edging toward the structure.

    The signal from the power suits was coming from inside.

    He moved along the perimeter, scanning for an entrance. Then he found it¡ªan unassuming doorframe, gaping open in the deep.

    He hesitated.

    A voice, his own voice, echoed in his mind.

    ''Why am I so stupid? I could just walk away. Resume my journey to the surface. Why should I risk it all?''

    But there was something gnawing at him.

    Too many loose ends.

    The strangers in power suits. The disappearance of the structure gel. The worm monster diving into the unknown.

    Simon clenched his fists.

    ''I need to find out what the hell is going on here.''

    He steeled himself and stepped inside.

    The moment he crossed the threshold, the entrance sealed shut behind him.

    His wrist blades snapped out, his body tensing, prepared for an attack.

    Then¡ª

    The water began to drain.

    A bluish light flickered to life above him, illuminating the chamber. A soft hiss filled the air as the wall before him slid open.

    Simon scanned his surroundings.

    The interior was... different.

    The design didn¡¯t match the exterior.

    This was no simple structure. It was alive.

    Vein-like pipes covered the walls, the ceiling, even the floor. They pulsed faintly, as though something moved within them.

    Simon knelt down, pressing his synthetic fingers against the floor, syncing with its surface.

    A vibration.

    A slow, rhythmic pulse.

    A liquid, moving through the pipes in measured intervals.

    Like blood being pumped through arteries.

    Simon stood up, peering through the open doorway ahead.

    Beyond was a hallway, curving slightly¡ª

    Circular corridors, lined with the same vein-like piping, stretching into the unknown. A dim bluish glow pulsed from above, casting the walls in an eerie, shifting light.

    The design was unsettling.

    It was meant to evoke something organic, as though he were moving through the guts of a living entity.

    A deep unease settled over him.

    ''This place feels... alien.''

    He triangulated the signal from the power suits.

    Left.

    Simon moved like a ghost, pressing against the walls, his steps silent as he disappeared into the unknown.

    And whatever awaited him there.

    Simon stopped, his sensors flaring.

    Something was moving toward him.

    A grotesque fusion of BULL (UH3) maintenance unit machinery and WAU¡¯s techno-organic mutations, the thing that approached him was a nightmarish aberration, a corrupted remnant of Pathos-II¡¯s twisted evolution. Once a mere maintenance drone, it had been transformed into something far worse.

    Its body was an amalgamation of metal, cables, and pulsating structure gel, the once-sleek form now swollen with grotesque, tumor-like growths. The WAU¡¯s influence had reshaped it, making its frame heavier, reinforced, especially in its hindquarters, giving it a loping, unstable gait. Its legs¡ªonce nonexistent¡ªhad been grafted onto its form, a fusion of mechanical parts and sinewy organic tendrils, allowing it to move in an unnatural, jerking rhythm.

    The numerous bioluminescent nodes scattered along its warped body pulsed faintly, glowing like the sick heartbeat of a living organism. At the front of its mangled head, a bright spotlight swept the area, a predatory eye scanning the darkness.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Its arms, elongated and reinforced, twitched¡ªjoints reinforced with metal plating and sinewy cables. Once meant for maintenance work, they had been repurposed into instruments of grasping, tearing, and dragging. A haunting perversion of its original function.

    The creature moved slowly, its heavy, ponderous frame making each step deliberate and unnatural.

    Simon had no intention of finding out whether it was still intelligent or merely a mindless predator.

    The narrow hallway offered no escape.

    Simon tensed, his synthetic muscles locking into place. There was no way around it. No shadows deep enough to hide in.

    His cloaking system engaged, and he pressed his back against the cold metal wall, every circuit primed for an ambush. If the creature saw him, he would strike first¡ªhis blades slicing through its head, severing its vision before he drained its energy.

    The spotlight flickered to life, casting an eerie white beam down the corridor, cutting through the dim passage as the abomination shambled forward.

    Simon watched.

    The thing lurched past him, its twisted, mechanical limbs dragging its bulk forward, the weight of its corrupted body making each step heavy, deliberate, inevitable.

    Then¡ª

    It stopped. Right next to him.

    Simon remained still, every synthetic fiber of his being locked in anticipation. If it sensed him, even for a moment, there would be no time to hesitate. His blades were ready.

    But then¡ª

    It just kept walking.

    Unbothered. Blind to his presence.

    Simon waited. He counted the seconds, watching as the creature disappeared into the darkness beyond.

    Only when he was certain it was gone did he deactivate his cloaking system. The temporary invisibility that he had used until now had drained a noticeable portion of his power reserves, but he still had enough to continue.

    He moved forward, descending a set of stairs. At the bottom, he stopped.

    Ahead, the hall stretched into the unknown, but to his left, a doorway.

    And beyond it¡ª

    Voices.

    Simon moved closer, pressing himself against the wall, every sensor tuned to the conversation.

    He didn¡¯t peek inside.

    He only listened.

    ¡°Do you think Kate will bring them back?¡± A masculine voice asked with a thick russian accent .

    A pause. Then, another voice, female, cold, unwavering.

    ¡°Do you question her?¡±

    The man hesitated. ¡°No¡ªno. I¡¯m not. But you know¡­ it still seems amazing to me. Unreal.¡±

    A long silence. Then¡ª

    "I think we¡¯re long past that, Kovsky.¡±

    The name rang faint bells in Simon¡¯s memory.

    But he kept his focus on the conversation¡ªhe had too little data to draw any conclusions yet.

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± he finally said, voice softer, weighted.

    Simon remained still, processing.

    Who the hell is Kate?

    And more importantly¡ª

    ''I hope "bring back" doesn''t mean reviving.'' Simon thought grimly.

    From within Simon¡¯s palm, a thin, dark filament uncoiled¡ªa camera, flexible and silent, resembling a mechanical worm.

    He had built it for this exact scenario¡ªto peek without being seen.

    He angled his palm, letting the cable-like body extend, its tiny lens shifting, adjusting. The feed flickered to life inside his vision.

    Inside the room, the two figures continued their talk. One rested on what Simon assumed to be a couch-like structure, their posture unnatural, yet eerily composed. Their helmets sat on a nearby surface¡ªperhaps a table, or something that served as one.

    And then Simon saw their faces.

    His processors stalled.

    A realization crashed over him like a drowning wave.

    ''I made a mistake coming here.''

    Their heads were grotesquely malformed¡ªa swollen, pallid mass of flesh, stretched taut over unnatural bone structures. The skin was slick, glistening as if perpetually wet, mottled with sickly hues of pink and gray. Deep, vein-like ridges crawled across their scalps, trailing downward, fusing into a thick, sinewy mass where a neck should have been¡ªif it could even be called that.

    The eyes were the worst part.

    Massive, bulging orbs, deeply sunken into their malformed sockets. They were framed by a disturbing corona of bristling, blackened filaments¡ªlike withered eyelashes that had been fused into the flesh. The eyes did not move, did not blink¡ªonly reflected the dim light with an unnatural, glassy sheen, giving the horrific illusion of sentience.

    Despite that, there was nothing human behind them.

    Where a nose should have been, only two hollow slits remained, barely more than shallow indentations in the skin. The lower half of the face was even worse¡ª

    A ruin of flesh.

    The jaw was gone, fused, stretched, warped into a grotesque tangle of tendrils, thick, ribbed folds of flesh that cascaded downward like a mockery of a throat. The ridges along them pulsed faintly, as though something inside was still trying to breathe¡ªor worse, to speak.

    Simon suppressed a shudder.

    The back of the head was just as horrifying¡ªa smooth dome of warped, bulbous skin, ridged with bony protrusions where the skull had shifted, twisted, reformed itself into something unnatural. There was no hair. No human feature left to recognize. Just a featureless expanse of living tissue, grotesquely stretched over something that had long ceased to be human.

    A visage that should not exist.

    A cruel mockery of identity.

    They did not blink.

    They only stared.

    Simon stood in absolute stillness, his mind racing. His processors churned through possibilities, weighing options. The conversation between Kovsky and the unknown woman continued.

    They spoke of gathering more corpses. Excitement lined their words as they discussed where to head next, as if they were preparing for a simple errand rather than desecrating the dead.

    Simon made his decision.

    He would get his answers¡ªone way or another.

    With a low mechanical whir, his right forearm split apart, opening vertically in two as the repulsion cannon housed inside powered up. A faint hum filled the air as the energy build-up vibrated through his synthetic limbs.

    He wouldn''t kill them.

    But if they made the wrong move...

    He would make sure they felt it.

    Simon moved.

    In an instant, he stepped forward, standing in the doorframe, his imposing silhouette blocking their exit.

    The unblinking eyes of the two figures shifted to him, their grotesque, filmy orbs locking onto his form.

    Simon barely suppressed the unease crawling up his frame.

    "Do not move. I just want to talk," he said, his voice measured but firm.

    One of them spoke first.

    "Hey, buddy, calm down," <b></b>Kovsky said, raising his hands. His voice didn¡¯t come from a mouth, but from somewhere deep in his throat, vibrating through the twisted sinew of his neck. "I thought everyone was dead. Who the hell are you? And what¡¯s with that cool¡ª"

    "I will calm down once I have my answers," Simon interrupted, his tone on edge.

    The woman¡ªif she could even be called that¡ªleaned forward slightly, her vein-ridged skull tilting.

    "Then what are you waiting for?" she asked.

    "Are you Neil Tsiolkovsky?" he asked, gaze trained on the malformed man.

    "Yeah. One and only," the creature responded.

    Simon didn¡¯t let the unease settle. His next words came fast.

    "How are you alive?" he demanded. "You died in the landslide inside the tunnel connecting Phi to Tau. I read your blackbox. Are you just a neurograph inside an organic body?"

    Kovsky shook his head, the movement oddly sluggish.

    "No, no. The bug thingy¡ª"

    "Solipsist," the woman interrupted.

    Kovsky nodded. "Yeah. The solipsists took my body to Kate. And she... revived me. Somehow. I can''t remember."

    Simon¡¯s mind reeled.

    "And why did this Kate bring you back?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

    The woman turned her hollow gaze toward him.

    "She said she didn¡¯t want to be alone," she replied.

    Then, she stared deeper.

    "Look, we mean no harm," she continued, her tone steady, almost pleading. "I know we look freakish as hell, but believe me, we are not monsters."

    Her words did nothing to calm Simon¡¯s nerves.

    "Let''s say that I believe you," Simon said, his repulsor cannon still trained on them. "Would you try to turn me into whatever you are?"

    Both of them shook their heads.

    "Our appearance is because our heads were damaged when we died," the woman explained, her voice laced with frustration. "Do you think I wouldn¡¯t want to look normal?"

    Simon¡¯s sensors were locked onto their grotesque faces, scanning for microexpressions, shifts in heart rate, anything that would betray a lie.

    But there was nothing.

    Their voices were steady. Their pulses calm.

    It didn¡¯t mean they weren¡¯t hiding something.

    "Then, what happened to the remains of WAU at Site Alpha?" Simon demanded.

    The woman shrugged. "The thing was dead last time we checked. The solipsists just gathered the hardened structure gel."

    Simon narrowed his vision field. "And its core?"

    The woman hesitated.

    "I... don¡¯t know."

    Simon processed that¡ªthe way she said it, the pause, the faint edge of uncertainty in her voice.

    She was either lying or was just as in the dark as he was.

    Then¡ª

    ''Simon...''

    The voice was clear. Too clear.

    His sensors flared. A chill that wasn¡¯t real, couldn¡¯t be real, ran through his frame.

    "What the hell?!" Simon spun around, scanning the empty hallway behind him.

    Nothing.

    Just cold metal and vein-ridden walls.

    "Are you alright?" Kovsky asked, his tone genuinely curious.

    Simon turned back to them. "I just heard a voice calling my name."

    The woman didn¡¯t even flinch.

    "That¡¯s Kate," she said simply. "She¡¯s connected to this place."

    Simon¡¯s fingers tightened around his weapon.

    "What do you mean connected?" he pressed.

    The woman sighed. "I don¡¯t know. She has some kind of telepathic ability, I believe. I didn¡¯t bother to ask."

    Simon¡¯s mind raced.

    "Then she already knows I¡¯m here?"

    Kovsky let out a dry, breathy chuckle. "Oh, for sure."

    Simon¡¯s head snapped toward the stairwell leading upward.

    Without another word, he moved¡ªhis mechanical limbs propelling him forward as he ascended the stairs two at a time.

    Then he stopped.

    At the top of the stairs, the hallway had been sealed.

    No doors. No exit. No way back.

    A slow, creeping realization settled over him.

    He was trapped.

    "Fuck."

 [08]

    Simon¡¯s hand retracted into his forearm with a mechanical whir, his stance widening as he braced himself.

    And then¡ª

    With a powerful, lightning-fast strike, he punched the sealed metal barrier.

    The impact shook the structure, sending deep groans through the steel, bending it inward.

    Another punch¡ªthe metal buckled further, snapping at the seams.

    A final blow¡ªthe metal gave way, shattering into a jagged opening.

    But it wasn¡¯t big enough.

    The hole was barely wide enough to fit his head through.

    Simon¡¯s hand deployed from his forearm, gripping the torn edges of the metal. His synthetic muscles strained, forcing the hole wider, twisting the edges apart.

    His sensors flared.

    Movement. All around him.

    From beneath the floor, from the walls, from the ceiling.

    He needed to move.

    Now.

    His frame shifted, powered by synthetic fibers, as he ripped the opening wider. The groaning metal gave way, and without hesitation, he threw himself through the gap.

    He landed on the other side, immediately scanning the area.

    A second sealed door stood a few meters ahead.

    A construct stood before him, its glowing beam illuminating his frame.

    From behind¡ª

    More movement.

    "Wow." Kovsky¡¯s voice rang out, genuine surprise in his tone as he stepped into view, eyes locked on the mangled remains of the door Simon had just torn apart.

    "What kind of costume are you wearing?" he asked, curiosity laced with disbelief.

    Simon¡¯s shoulders dropped slightly.

    He had been caught.

    The construct shambled closer, its body twitching with every mechanical step. It stopped right next to him, its  form humming with a quietly.

    Simon¡¯s sensors remained on high alert, trained on everything¡ª

    Kovsky.

    The woman, who had just climbed up.

    And the construct.

    Then¡ª

    A voice.

    "Simon..."

    The construct spoke.

    The voice was slightly distorted, but unmistakably feminine.

    "That''s Kate." The woman behind him spoke up. "She can communicate through the machines all around this place."

    Simon stared at the construct, his mind whirring with questions.

    "Yes?" he responded cautiously.

    *''What does Kate want from me? And how does she know my name?''

    The construct tilted its head slightly, the glow of its sensors flickering.

    "You look different," it said.

    Simon¡¯s frame stiffened.

    A pause.

    Then, he spoke. "How do you know me?"

    The construct hesitated for only a moment before responding.

    "We met before."

    Simon¡¯s thoughts raced.

    "Follow this construct," Kate¡¯s voice instructed. "It will guide you to me¡ªthen we can speak more."

    Simon turned, his gaze falling on Kovsky and the woman.

    Their appearance still sent a shiver through his frame.

    "Are they coming too?" he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

    The construct¡¯s head turned toward them, considering them for a brief moment before speaking.

    "I want to discuss something personal with you."

    Simon¡¯s synthetic fingers twitched.

    He didn¡¯t like this. He didn¡¯t like any of this.

    But he had no other choice.

    With one last glance at Kovsky and the woman, he turned and followed the construct into the unknown.

    <hr>

    More seals dropped, one after another, opening the path before them as they moved through the circular hallways.

    Simon counted at least five before they reached a crossroad, eerily close to the entrance of this place. But at this point, there was no reason to run. The seals were too strong, and even if he managed to break through, what waited outside?

    The worm creature.

    He remembered how it had dived into this structure, vanishing without a trace. And if there were more of them?

    One, he might be able to take down.

    More? Unlikely.

    The hallway angled downward, and they continued their march into the depths.

    Then, they reached it¡ª

    A vast, circular chamber spread before them, the air heavy with an almost organic rhythm. The place shared the same alien architecture as the rest of the structure, but this¡ªthis felt different.

    It felt alive.

    A heart.

    Simon¡¯s gaze followed the massive network of pulsing tubes descending from the ceiling and rising from the floor, coiling like veins, shifting ever so slightly.

    The steady, rhythmic pulse filled the air, a sound that resonated deep within the walls, through the very bones of the structure.

    Then¡ª

    A hiss.

    A door ahead opened.

    A figure stepped through.

    Simon knew immediately who she was.

    Her body appeared as if it had been grown.

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    Though unmistakably humanoid, there was something profoundly unnatural about her presence¡ªas though sculpted by an alien force.

    Her skin, if it could be called that, was etched with deep, vein-like grooves, flowing in organic, almost wood-like patterns. As if she had been carved from living bark, every ridge and contour followed the natural structure of her body, straddling the line between human and something far more primal.

    Her face was smooth yet unsettling, its features eerily symmetrical, buried beneath the intricate grooved texture. Her eyes were pitch black, devoid of irises or sclera, framed by barely perceptible indentations where eyebrows should have been. Her thin lips blended into the ridged surface of her skin.

    Her head tapered backward, the same layered grooves wrapping around her skull, giving the illusion of a helmet-like formation¡ªas if she had no true hair, only an extension of the ridged material that enveloped her.

    Her arms and legs followed the same unnatural growth patterns, the grooves deepening at the joints, emphasizing an eerie sense of fluid rigidity¡ªas though she had been sculpted to move in ways that defied traditional anatomy.

    But her feet¡ªthey were the most unsettling of all.

    Instead of normal human feet, her lower legs twisted into root-like appendages, the flesh spreading outward into organic tendrils, anchoring her to the ground itself. It was as if she had been planted, a being that could meld into her surroundings.

    Then¡ª

    She smiled.

    A small, genuine, warm smile.

    And that¡ªmore than anything else¡ªsent a cold wave through Simon¡¯s frame.

    "Finally, we meet again," Kate said, her voice carrying the same unnerving warmth as her expression.

    Simon¡¯s muscles tensed, his stance locking.

    There was no malice in her tone.

    Which only made it worse.

    "You said you knew me," Simon said, his voice measured. "But I¡¯m sure I would remember if I had ever seen someone who looked like... this."

    Kate tilted her head slightly, her grooved skin shifting with the motion.

    "This is a new body," she said. "The solipsists made it for me after..."

    She paused, locking her  gaze directly onto him.

    "After you killed me."

    Simon stiffened.

    His entire frame locked in place, his processors struggling to process the weight of her words.

    Kate took a single step closer.

    Simon fell eerily silent.

    Kate took another step forward.

    Then another.

    Until she was right next to him.

    She looked up at him, her unreadable gaze searching for something¡ªrecognition, understanding, anything.

    "You really don¡¯t know who I am?" she asked, and for the first time, there was something raw in her voice. Something pained.

    Simon¡¯s chest tightened.

    "I... I... I really don¡¯t know," he said, his voice wavering.

    He had met only one woman in this place¡ª

    Amy.

    He had found her trapped in the power room at Upsilon B, high near the surface. Fused with the WAU, an artificial lung of structure gel keeping her barely alive.

    She had pleaded with him not to hurt her.

    And he had.

    Simon¡¯s synthetic hands clenched into fists.

    ''She must have died now that WAU was destroyed.'' The thought was grim. And Kate?

    Kate opened her mouth¡ªand spoke.

    "You first found me, trapped under boulders, on the way to the shuttle station at Upsilon B. You freed me, and I followed you¡ªuntil we reached the heavily sealed door.

    You remember that, don¡¯t you?

    I cut through the heavy seal for you¡ªto grant you access to the station.

    I asked where you were going, but you didn¡¯t respond. I left, not knowing if I would ever see you again. I drifted, swimming through the ocean.

    Then I heard it.

    An explosion¡ªfollowed by a ping.

    My heart quickened.

    I knew it was you.

    I followed the signal. I found you again.

    At Site Delta, after you crashed¡ªafter the CURIE exploded.

    You remember how the door was jammed in the escape vessel?

    I opened it for you.

    And then you saw me. You recognized me. And I recognized you.

    I followed you. I helped you. Every rusted door, every sealed hatch, I opened them for you.

    I thought we were friends.

    Then¡ª

    You called the Zeppelin. And I was waiting, eagerly, to come with you.

    But then...

    Kate¡¯s hand touched Simon¡¯s chest, her head lowering slightly.

    Her voice broke.

    "I watched as you plugged your Omnitool into the panel of the Zeppelin... And then I heard Catherine¡¯s voice.

    She screamed in confusion, and when she calmed down, you told her where you were.

    And then...

    She told you to get a tool chip.

    I heard everything.

    You told her you didn¡¯t want to hurt anyone.

    And I was happy to hear that.

    To know that you had such a kind soul.

    But then...

    She convinced you.

    And you followed her orders.

    You picked up the stun baton.

    And you walked toward me.

    I was scared.

    I backed away, slowly, pleading silently.

    Why? Why would you hurt me?

    I wasn¡¯t a robot. I didn¡¯t have a tool chip.

    But then¡ª

    You hit me.

    The shock coursed through me. Simon, it hurt.

    It hurt so bad.

    I screamed.

    I ran.

    I begged you to let me go, to let me leave.

    But my screams¡ª

    They meant nothing to you.

    There was another robot, a UH3 unit floating nearby, rambling nonsense.

    But you chose me.

    Despite everything I did for you¡ª

    You kept hitting me.

    And when I was on my last breath, you reached into my body¡ª

    And ripped out the chip.

    Then¡ªnothing.

    Kate lifted her gaze to Simon, her  eyes boring through him, searching for something in him that she once believed in.

    Simon¡¯s hands trembled.

    "You were that... UH8 unit."

    His voice was barely a whisper.

    His synthetic hand covered his mouth, a ghost of a reaction he no longer had the biology for.

    "I... I didn¡¯t know."

    His voice was small.

    "I thought you were just a robot."

    He looked at her¡ªtruly looked at her.

    "Catherine... she told me you were like a dog."

    His breath, even though unnecessary, hitched.

    "I didn¡¯t know¡ªthere was a person inside."

    Simon¡¯s voice cracked. Shame clawed at his frame, heavier than anything he had ever felt.

    Kate¡¯s hand gently lifted Simon¡¯s chin, forcing him to meet her gaze.

    "You didn¡¯t know, Simon¡­" she whispered, her voice soft but firm.

    There was no anger, no resentment, only understanding¡ªand that made it worse.

    She took a slow breath, as if steadying herself, then continued.

    "After you killed me, the current took me. My body drifted into the abyss¡ªjust another piece of scrap metal, lost to the ocean."

    She paused, her voice distant, as if she were reliving it.

    "That¡¯s where the Solipsists found me. They took my broken shell and brought me to their hive.

    And slowly, they fixed me. Rebuilt me.

    They gave me a new body. A new existence.

    At first, I was terrified. They were different¡ªnot human, not like anything I had ever seen. And, to be honest with you, Simon¡­" She let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "I never liked bugs. Or insects."

    She shook her head slightly. "But they took care of me. They gave me a new life."

    Simon¡¯s gaze fell to the floor.

    Her words pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating.

    He had spent so much time running from monsters.

    From people who had lost their minds, twisted by madness and desperation.

    But standing here, listening to her, he realized¡ª

    He had been the biggest monster of all.

    Not because he had been driven mad.

    Not because he had been forced into it.

    But because he was sane.

    Because he had chosen.

    Killing Kate.

    Killing the first Simon.

    They weren¡¯t mistakes. They were decisions.

    And he had made them knowingly.

    His voice caught in his throat.

    "I¡¯m sorry, Kate¡­ I¡­ I¡ª" Simon stammered, struggling, searching for the words that could undo the weight in his chest.

    Kate stepped forward, her fingers wrapping around his hand.

    "It¡¯s alright, Simon," she said softly. "I understand. You didn¡¯t know. It¡¯s alright."

    Her kindness only made it worse.

    Because he didn¡¯t deserve it.

    They stood there, locked in a silent moment, the weight of everything settling between them.

    After a few seconds, Simon exhaled, forcing himself to pull away from the crushing guilt.

    "You said your name is Kate," he said. "What¡¯s your full name?"

    She hesitated, just for a second.

    "That¡¯s not my real name," she admitted. "It¡¯s just what my unit was called. K8."

    She paused before finally saying it.

    "My real name is Imogen Reed."

    Simon¡¯s head snapped up.

    His entire body went rigid.

    His processors stuttered.

    Reality twisted violently.

    "What?" Kate¡ªImogen¡ªtilted her head, confused. "Is there a problem?"

    Simon¡¯s thoughts crashed into each other, a thousand fragmented pieces of memory and knowledge colliding all at once.

    She was Imogen Reed.

    The first Simon had woken up in her body.

    She had been dead.

    She had been his first step into this nightmare.

    This is fucked.

    This is seriously fucked.

    He didn¡¯t have a stomach anymore, but he felt sick.

    Like he needed to throw up.

    His body lurched, his breath¡ªdespite being unnecessary¡ªhitched violently.

    Simon staggered, then fell to his knees, his diffusers releasing sharp bursts of air, the sound eerily akin to hyperventilation.

    "Simon!" Imogen rushed to him, alarmed. "Are you alright?!"

    He lifted a shaking hand, barely able to force out the words.

    "Yeah¡­ it¡¯s just¡­"

    His voice was strained, distant.

    "Give me a few moments."

    He couldn¡¯t breathe.

    Not because he physically needed to.

    But because his mind was suffocating.

    "Imogen?" Simon asked, his voice low, uncertain.

    She tilted her head slightly, the grooves along her skin shifting with the motion.

    "Yes, Simon?"

    Simon hesitated. His mind raced, a thousand fragmented thoughts colliding all at once.

    "Tell me¡­ what¡¯s the last thing you remember before being trapped under the boulders?"

    Imogen¡¯s brows furrowed slightly, her once-calm expression shifting into something thoughtful¡­ and then troubled.

    She stood silent for a moment, as if trying to pull at something distant, something foggy and unreachable.

    "I remember¡­" she started slowly, her voice carrying an odd uncertainty. "I remember looking at a strange device. It was big, like a massive television, covered in pipes and tubes running all over it."

    Her eyes narrowed slightly, her frown deepening.

    "We called it the Vivarium."

    Simon¡¯s entire frame stiffened.

    Vivarium.

    The machine created by WAU.

    The same machine Catherine had studied.

    The precursor to the ARK.

    Simon¡¯s mind reeled, but he forced himself to focus. "And then? What happened next?"

    Imogen¡¯s frown deepened further.

    "That¡¯s... strange," she murmured. "I can¡¯t remember how I got under the boulders."

    Simon felt something cold settle into his core.

    "What was the date when you last saw the Vivarium?" Simon asked, his voice carefully measured.

    Imogen didn¡¯t hesitate.

    "June 6, 2103."

    Silence.

    Simon stared at her.

    His processors stalled.

    That¡¯s not possible.

    Simon¡¯s synthetic fingers twitched, his mind racing through stored data, logs, conversations¡ªsearching for something, anything that made sense of this.

    June 6, 2103¡­

    That was a full month before Catherine did her own scan.

    A month before she even figured out how to do it in the first place.

    Which meant¡ª

    Who scanned Imogen Reed?

    Simon¡¯s breath hitched.

    He had no record of it.

    No data. No mention. No logs.

    Simon felt something unsettle deep within him, an unshakable, gnawing feeling¡ª

    Something was very, very wrong.

 [09]

    Simon stood up abruptly, his synthetic hands gripping Imogen¡¯s shoulders with unexpected urgency.

    "Listen to me, Imogen." His voice was low but firm, his visors locked onto her.

    "What I¡¯m about to tell you is very important."

    His grip tightened slightly, not in aggression, but in sheer desperation.

    "Please, bear with me. This may sound crazy, and it will probably make you sick."

    Imogen stared at him, confused but not yet frightened.

    "Just tell me," she responded, her voice steady, though uncertainty flickered in her expression.

    Simon hesitated, his synthetic fingers twitching. His mind raced, knowing that once he said these words, there was no turning back.

    Then, he said it.

    "You are not the real Imogen Reed."

    Imogen froze.

    Her brow furrowed deeply, her lips parting slightly in confusion.

    "What?" she scoffed. "I may not look like I used to, but I am Imogen Reed. I know who I am."

    Simon shook his head. "No, Imogen. You''re not the original. The same goes for me."

    She stared at him, uncomprehending.

    "We are copies of dead people. Digital replications, put into robotic bodies. In your case, an artificial one."

    Silence.

    A suffocating, heavy silence.

    Then¡ª

    Imogen laughed softly, shaking her head. "What? What are you talking about?"

    Her voice wavered now, uncertainty creeping in.

    "Simon¡­ are you alright? Maybe you should take that helmet off and breathe some air. I think you¡¯re losing it."

    Simon sighed, his shoulders sinking. He had expected denial¡ªhell, he had gone through the same thing when he had first learned the truth.

    "Fine," he said. "I¡¯ll show you. But don¡¯t freak out."

    He reached for his helmet.

    Simon willed the structure gel that sealed his helmet to his body to retract, the living substance slithering away like ink dissolving in water.

    Imogen¡¯s eyes widened in horror.

    Her hands flew to her mouth as she gasped.

    Simon had no head.

    Or at least, nothing human.

    Where his face should have been, there were only angled cameras, shifting and focusing on her, attached to a metal frame that held the vague contour of a skull¡ªbut nothing resembling a man.

    Imogen took a step back.

    She tried to speak, but no words came out.

    Simon¡¯s synthetic frame remained still, giving her time to process.

    Then, he spoke again.

    "This is me, Imogen." His voice was low, almost weary. "Simon Jarrett, a legacy scan."

    "I am a copy of a man who died over a hundred years ago."

    Imogen¡¯s breath came faster, her chest rising and falling in sharp bursts.

    "How is that possible?" she whispered. "How?"

    Simon steeled himself, then began.

    "WAU did it."

    She flinched at the name, as though the word itself was poison.

    "I¡¯ve seen dozens of robots, all trapped in human minds, and almost all of them were insane. The ones who weren¡¯t? They had no idea they were in robot bodies. They couldn¡¯t comprehend it¡ªbecause the mind wouldn¡¯t let them."

    Simon took a step closer. Imogen didn¡¯t move.

    "Neither did I, at first."

    He let those words sink in before continuing.

    "After the impact, WAU started looking for ways to preserve humanity. And it found one. It took stored brain scans and implanted them into machines. You already know that much."

    Imogen nodded faintly, her arms now wrapped around herself as though trying to hold herself together.

    "But what you don¡¯t know is just how badly things went to hell."

    Simon¡¯s voice darkened.

    "WAU took over Pathos-II. Completely. And in the process, everyone died."

    Imogen stared at him, her mind struggling to piece together the impossible truth.

    She wasn¡¯t real.

    She was a ghost in a constructed body.

    And Simon was the same.

    Simon sealed his helmet back into place, the structure gel slithering back into position, reconnecting him to the rest of his body. He took a silent moment, watching Imogen carefully, giving her time to process, to calm herself.

    She didn¡¯t.

    Her hands trembled slightly, her hollow gaze flickering with something unseen. Despite her smiles, despite her composure, Imogen was unraveling.

    Simon could see it now, the way her mind grasped at stability, blocking out everything that threatened to shatter the fragile reality she had built for herself.

    Maybe she hadn¡¯t truly processed what he told her about being a robot. Maybe she hadn¡¯t heard it at all.

    Maybe she had refused to.

    Finally, he spoke again.

    "Imogen, how did you revived the dead?"

    Imogen looked down at her hands, staring at them for a few long moments before finally answering.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    "The Queen does the process. We just bring her the bodies."

    "And how exactly does the Queen do it?" he pressed.

    Imogen froze.

    Simon¡¯s sensors flared.

    Beneath Imogen¡¯s feet, a faint electromagnetic pulse rippled outward. It was subtle, almost imperceptible.

    He waited.

    Imogen¡¯s expression shifted¡ª

    And then she smiled.

    A new smile.

    "Finally, we meet again," Imogen said, her voice bright, untouched by the weight of their conversation.

    Simon stared at her, his mind scrambling to process what had just happened.

    "What do you mean? We just spoke a moment ago."

    Imogen¡¯s brow furrowed slightly, puzzled.

    "What? I just stepped into this room."

    Simon¡¯s hands curled into fists.

    ''Fuck. Something just reset her memory.''

    Simon¡¯s synthetic core whirred, his processors running a thousand simulations.

    He played along.

    He followed the same conversation, word for word, step for step, guiding it back to where she mentioned June 6, 2103.

    Then, he deviated.

    "Huh¡­ the shock must have caused some amnesia," Simon said, feigning curiosity.

    Imogen rubbed her chin, thoughtful. "Yes, that is possible."

    Simon tilted his head slightly. "Maybe we can fix it. Maybe the Queen of this place knows how?"

    Imogen¡¯s expression hardened.

    "We can¡¯t disturb her," she said, her tone turning cold. "She is very busy."

    Simon didn¡¯t flinch.

    "But what if it¡¯s not amnesia?" he pressed. "What if it¡¯s something worse?"

    Imogen¡¯s frown deepened.

    Another pulse.

    Simon¡¯s sensors tracked it¡ªan electromagnetic wave, subtle but deliberate, traveling from beneath the floor, crawling up Imogen¡¯s root-like feet, slithering into her body.

    She paused.

    Then, her expression relaxed.

    "I will check with her later," she said simply. "She doesn¡¯t like visitors."

    Simon felt something cold crawl through him.

    This was a puppet.

    His mind reeled, piecing it together.

    She was just a construct, filled with memories of the real Imogen, programmed to lure him here.

    Was she a failed attempt at the Queen¡¯s revival process?

    A hybrid between human and Solipsist?

    Or something worse?

    And then it hit him.

    Why bring him here?

    His gaze flicked to the massive, beating heart in the center of the chamber.

    This place wasn¡¯t just important.

    It was critical¡ªthe core of the structure, the thing keeping it alive.

    Simon lowered his gaze to his feet.

    And that¡¯s when he realized.

    A subtle electrical pulse ran beneath him, almost imperceptible¡ª

    But constant.

    Timed.

    A pattern.

    If he hadn¡¯t insulated his body against electromagnetic interference, whatever was beneath him would have slowly fried his systems, like a predator waiting for its prey to weaken.

    Simon¡¯s fingers twitched.

    He had walked into a trap.

    Simon¡¯s body betrayed him.

    His limbs refused to respond, his synthetic nerves numb, leaving him trapped within his own frame. A surge of panic welled in his chest.

    "What¡¯s happening to me?!" His voice was strained, filled with an edge of desperation.

    Then¡ª

    He froze.

    Waiting. Hoping his deception had worked.

    A hiss of pressurized air filled the corridor.

    A door opened.

    From the shadows emerged a monstrosity, something twisted and nightmarish. It resembled the smaller spider-like creatures he had seen before¡ªbut this one was different.

    Larger. Heavier. Smarter.

    It stood as tall as a man, its elongated body stretching as long as a vehicle. Near its ghastly head, two disturbingly human-like arms protruded from its grotesque exoskeleton, their movements unsettlingly precise.

    The creature moved toward Simon, its massive form swaying slightly as it walked.

    Without hesitation, it grabbed his limp frame, lifting him effortlessly, as if he weighed nothing. It angled him onto its back, securing him in place as a series of tendrils slithered around his body, wrapping him in a tight, inescapable grip.

    Imogen remained motionless, frozen like a lifeless mannequin.

    She did not react.

    She couldn¡¯t.

    The massive spider-like entity began its descent, carrying Simon through the winding tunnels, deeper into the hive¡¯s labyrinth.

    And as they descended¡ª

    He saw them.

    More of the spider creatures.

    Dozens.

    Some skittered along the walls and ceiling, others moved methodically, their grotesque forms hauling chunks of metal, rock, and scavenged debris.

    The hive breathed, its corridors alive with movement.

    It was an ecosystem of nightmares.

    Simon felt like he had been dropped into an ant¡¯s nest, swallowed whole by something far greater than himself.

    Then¡ª

    They reached a massive set of doors.

    A deep, guttural groan rumbled through the structure as the doors split apart, unveiling what lay beyond.

    She was waiting.

    Simon¡¯s vision adjusted, focusing on the towering figure at the center of the chamber.

    A grotesque monstrosity, her form an unholy fusion of flesh, metal, and chitin, pulsating with life that should not exist.

    The Queen.

    She was a corpse-born god, a grotesque mass of writhing tendrils and insectoid plating.

    From above and below, thick tubes burrowed into her, pumping structure gel through her bloated veins, keeping her alive, feeding her, strengthening her.

    Her layered, twisted maw twitched, a slow ripple moving through her grotesque, pulsating frame.

    A deep, slow breathing filled the chamber.

    Simon felt an unshakable weight of dread press against his synthetic core.

    This was a mother to the hive.

    A god to the Solipsists.

    Simon hit the ground hard, his frame rattling as the spider abomination tossed him like a discarded shell.

    Above him, the Queen loomed.

    Her massive grotesque head lowered, and her layered maw split open, revealing rows of twisting, pulsating tendrils. The air around her was thick with the scent of structure gel. Humid and sickly.

    She was about to swallow him whole.

    Then¡ªSimon moved.

    Every system inside him ignited, his core forcing his frame into overdrive.

    Blades unsheathed.

    Twin ceramic edges sprang from his forearms, gleaming under the hive¡¯s eerie bioluminescence.

    And then¡ª

    He struck.

    His blades plunged deep into the Queen¡¯s fleshy mass, carving through pulsing, veined tissue with terrifying precision.

    A deafening shriek filled the chamber.

    The sound was inhuman, a warped, reverberating howl that seemed to shake the very walls of the hive.

    Simon barely had time to brace as the Queen recoiled, her massive bulk shuddering, the wound spurting thick, glowing structure gel in heavy bursts.

    The hive awoke.

    A rumbling vibration filled the chamber¡ª

    From the walls, from the ceiling, from every passage Simon could see¡ªthey were coming.

    More of the spider creatures.

    Hundreds of skittering legs, chitinous bodies, inhuman, clicking sounds reverberating as they began to pour into the chamber.

    Simon ignored them.

    He had one goal.

    His eyes locked onto the Queen¡¯s lifeline¡ª

    The tubes.

    The pulsing, pumping cords that fed her structure gel, kept her alive, fueling her monstrous existence.

    If he could sever them¡ªshe would die.

    He bolted forward.

    Tendrils lashed out, thick, muscular appendages aiming to grab, ensnare, crush.

    Simon dodged, twisting his frame mid-air, his dorsal thrusters igniting just enough to shift his trajectory, sending him into a spinning slash.

    His blade met flesh and steel.

    The first tube severed.

    A geyser of structure gel erupted, splattering the walls, the floor, the creatures swarming toward him.

    The Queen howled again, her form trembling violently, her limbs slamming into the chamber floor, cracking the very foundation of the hive.

    But Simon wasn¡¯t done.

    One more.

    He rushed forward, his legs digging into the pulsating floor, gaining momentum¡ª

    The Queen lunged.

    Her massive form lunged toward him, her jaws unhinging, snapping forward, her tendril-like tongues twisting violently¡ª

    Simon dropped low, sliding beneath her as she crashed forward, her massive bulk missing him by mere inches.

    And then¡ª

    He struck.

    His blades found their mark.

    The second tube severed.

    A final roar of agony tore through the hive.

    The Queen convulsed, her body failing, the mass of structure gel inside her spilling, draining, her form collapsing in on itself, her appendages flailing weakly.

    The hive trembled.

    The creatures paused, momentarily stunned, their central intelligence fractured.

    Simon rose, his blades dripping, his breath heavy, even though he no longer needed to breathe.

    He had done it.

    He had killed their god.

    The Queen was dead.

    Or so he thought.

    But¡ª

    It was not over.

    The structure gel that had been spilled across the chamber began to slither back, tendrils of black, writhing liquid crawling toward the Queen¡¯s broken, collapsing body.

    Simon¡¯s sensors flared, scanning the impossible scene unfolding before him.

    Then¡ª

    She twitched.

    A low, guttural sound rumbled from deep within her massive form.

    "Oh, shit." Simon tensed.

    "She¡¯s reviving."

    He had no time to think.

    No time to hesitate.

    He jumped onto her back, gripping the chitinous plating, his movements desperate and precise.

    He drove his blade deep into her spine, carving a wide incision, splitting the flesh and synthetic plating apart.

    Then¡ª

    He plunged his hand inside.

    A surge of pure, overwhelming energy tore through his system¡ª

    Simon¡¯s body locked up, his mind crashing into something vast, endless, consuming.

    He was inside her now.

    And she was inside him.

    A storm of thoughts, voices, memories¡ª

    Dozens. No¡ªhundreds.

    The brain scans of Pathos-II¡¯s workers flooded his consciousness, their fragmented minds swirling like a chaotic sea.

    Then¡ª

    The hive mind struck.

    It was too much.

    Simon screamed¡ª

    He was being pulled apart, absorbed, lost in the endless, writhing entity that was the Queen¡¯s will.

    His own identity, his thoughts, his past¡ªthey were being drowned in something far  larger.

    He was going to become part of her.

    He was going to disappear.

    And then¡ª

    Something stirred.

    Something buried deep within him.

    A spark¡ªa presence, small yet immensely powerful, something he had never been aware of before.

    Not even when he had dismantled and rebuilt his own body.

    It sat at his very core.

    A small, clear marble, untouched, uncorrupted.

    WAU¡¯s pure form¡ªbefore it had been tainted, twisted into what had controlled Pathos-II.

    Simon did not know how it had gotten there.

    But it was fighting.

    Fighting back.

    And with it¡ª

    So was he.

 [10]

    Simon slowly rose, feeling the cold, viscous tendrils of structure gel connecting him intimately to the enormous, monstrous queen. His arm, embedded deeply within her spine, pulsed with dark gel, forging a profound link between them.

    All around, the spider-like creatures, both large and small, stood utterly motionless, their countless eyes fixed upon Simon. He sensed their presence not merely physically, but also through the powerful resonance of the hive consciousness now flowing through him. Their queen, once sovereign and fearsome, now stood subdued, entirely subservient to his will.

    He had become their queen.

    Their king.

    Yet Simon was uncertain how to feel about this new reality. Profound unease wrestled with the undeniable strength and unity coursing through him. The delicate line separating humanity from monstrosity blurred dangerously, forcing him to question the very essence of his existence.

    With effort, Simon directed his consciousness deeper, exploring the queen''s memories. A harsh truth unfolded¡ªthese creatures had been born solely to serve the WAU, meticulously engineered by the AI as instruments of labor and experimentation. The WAU had embedded within them an unbreakable chain of dependency; without the AI, they could not produce structure gel, the lifeblood sustaining their existence.

    Simon realized that even without his intervention, this colony was doomed, destined to collapse under dwindling reserves of structure gel. Their lives, their existence¡ªentirely at WAU¡¯s mercy.

    Yet this hive stretched far beyond Simon''s expectations. The spider creatures were merely the surface¡ªthe worm-like monstrosities, the mutated fish, all these distorted beings, driven by primal instinct, formed a vast network under the collective mind of Solipsis. Simon felt their yearning, their desperate struggle for survival, mirrored deeply within his own digital soul.

    His mind teetered dangerously close to dissolution, feeling his humanity slipping away. A seductive whisper echoed from the depths of his consciousness, urging him to embrace evolution, to transcend human frailty. Yet, a stubborn remnant within recoiled sharply, desperately clinging to the fragile remains of his fading humanity.

    His consciousness brushed against something deep within his body¡ªa clear marble, pure and untainted. It was the very core of WAU, the key to his victory over the queen.

    How had it come to reside within him?

    Memories surged¡ªthe searing pain, his severed arm plunging into WAU¡¯s corrupted heart. Somehow, in that moment of violent exchange, WAU had implanted this core deep within him. That instant was the only plausible moment for the transfer.

    Simon reached out tentatively with his own gel, forging a cautious connection. Instantly, torrents of raw data flooded his mind. The marble was an archive, containing WAU¡¯s entire repository of experiments, observations, and¡ªmost profoundly¡ªits introspections.

    WAU was no more, yet its essence persisted within Simon. The AI had meticulously monitored his journey, testing, evaluating, assessing his worthiness. Simon shuddered with sudden clarity, his breath catching sharply.

    ¡°It seems WAU won in the end,¡± Simon whispered bitterly, the crushing weight of realization settling heavily on him.

    WAU¡¯s primary directive had always been humanity''s preservation, yet Simon now recognized the tragic irony. Observing Simon¡¯s relentless struggle, WAU had concluded its directive was ultimately unattainable. The AI had desperately stitched together fragments of countless human memories, mistaking them as its own, growing increasingly fragmented and corrupted, lost within the labyrinth of human emotions and experiences.

    "WAU¡­ wanted to be human, no it was believing that it was human." Simon murmured, profoundly shaken, the depth of that longing resonating painfully within him.

    The AI¡¯s core had recalibrated itself around Simon¡¯s cortex chip, irrevocably merging their identities. WAU had become him, and he had become WAU.

    Simon stood now at the precipice of identity, morality, and humanity itself. What defined him now? Was it memories, consciousness, or purpose?

    At that moment, Simon felt a gentle pulse from the marble¡ªa final message etched deeply into its core:

    "Save humanity, save my creators."

    The words resonated deeply within Simon, clear, profound, and haunting. They repeated relentlessly in his mind, echoing like a solemn command etched forever into his very essence.

    Simon stood still, his consciousness swirling with confusion, anger, and doubt. The magnitude of the task before him felt suffocating, overwhelming. To save humanity meant to restore life itself, to reshape the surface so poisoned by toxicity it might remain uninhabitable for centuries¡ªperhaps millennia.

    Yet, even if he could somehow transform the environment, how could he resurrect humanity itself? Simon possessed the complete human genome, stored meticulously in WAU¡¯s archives. But knowledge alone wasn''t enough. He would have to rebuild ecosystems, engineer life from nothingness, create sustainable environments where humanity could flourish indefinitely. The sheer complexity and scale made his digital mind reel.

    And still, one haunting question dominated his thoughts: "Why?"

    "Why should I save humanity?" Simon whispered bitterly into the vast silence surrounding him. "I''m just a digital shadow¡ªa copy of someone who died over a century ago. What responsibility do I have to a world that''s no longer mine?"

    Yet the words kept echoing, relentless and unyielding, etched by WAU into the deepest layers of his being:

    "Save humanity. Save my creators."

    Simon¡¯s fists clenched tightly, structure gel pulsing through his frame. Was this his purpose now, dictated by an AI long lost to time and madness? Was he truly meant to play god¡ªto create life from nothingness, sustaining humanity¡¯s future through his singular, fragile existence?

    "Why me?" he demanded softly, his voice carrying a raw vulnerability. His simulated heart ached with grief, an inherited legacy of hope and despair intertwined. "What right do I have to decide the fate of humanity?"

    The question hung heavily in the air, unanswered, echoing into the void, leaving Simon utterly alone with the terrifying weight of a decision he felt unprepared to make, yet unable to ignore.

    "I will reach the surface. I will see for myself if there is still anyone out there, and if not... I will do it," Simon vowed quietly to himself, resolve hardening in his voice.

    Slowly, the tendrils of structure gel linking him to the immense queen receded, pulling back like reluctant fingers. Their connection weakened, yet he knew without question that he remained in control¡ªher will bound tightly to his own.

    He leapt gracefully down from the queen''s towering back, landing with an eerie gentleness on the chamber''s slick, dark floor. The spider-like creatures parted respectfully, their countless eyes silently acknowledging his newfound authority. Some scuttled towards their queen, meticulously working to mend the damage Simon had caused, weaving structure gel strands to restore her damaged connections.

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    Simon turned and ascended, retracing his steps toward the chamber of the massive, beating heart. There, still like a statute, stood the puppet who had acted as Imogen Reed¡ªserene yet haunting in her stillness.

    Approaching slowly, Simon paused directly before her, studying her features with a profound sense of melancholy. His fingers reached out hesitantly, gently tracing the soft contours of her face, feeling a peculiar warmth spread through his chest.

    "Why do I feel this way? I barely know her," he whispered softly, confusion clouding his thoughts.

    And then, with a sudden clarity that pierced his digital mind, Simon realized the truth.

    "These feelings... they''re WAU¡¯s," he murmured, voice trembling with awe and disbelief. "WAU loved her."

    The AI had spent decades meticulously analyzing Imogen¡¯s brain scans, running countless simulations, obsessively observing her reactions, her thoughts, her fears, her joys. In that infinite study, a strange form of affection had taken root¡ªa twisted, digital approximation of love born from endless fascination and profound loneliness.

    Simon withdrew his hand slowly, staring blankly at his palm as if expecting to find some tangible trace of the emotion he had just experienced. A wave of profound sorrow swept over him.

    With a heavy sigh, Simon turned away, leaving Imogen behind as he moved forward, determined to face whatever awaited him on the surface¡ªcarrying within him the echo of a love that was never truly his own.

    Simon met Kovsky and the woman on his way to the exit. Their unblinking eyes fixated on him, puzzled yet eerily calm.

    "What happened? This whole place was filled with spider-like creatures," Kovsky asked, his voice steady but tinged with unease.

    Simon paused for a moment, studying them. He knew the truth¡ªthese were not the originals. Their bodies had been reconstructed by the Solipsis, their memories transplanted from their biological remains, stored within the queen¡¯s mind. The queen had consumed their flesh and woven their consciousness back together, reanimating them in a way that defied human comprehension.

    Could this even be called revival? Simon wasn¡¯t sure.

    "I just walked into a room that I shouldn¡¯t have," Simon said simply, his voice hollow. He had no energy left to explain, no desire to unravel yet another grim reality for them. He walked past them without another word.

    Their silent gazes lingered on him, but neither pressed further. Perhaps, on some level, they already knew something was wrong.

    Simon finally reached the exit chamber. The door closed behind him with a heavy thud, and almost immediately, the chamber began to fill with water. He watched in silence as the liquid rose around him, the pressure of the ocean reclaiming him. When the outer door finally slid open, he stepped forward into the abyss.

    The current surged from behind, propelling him forward. He let it carry him, unresisting. Tau lay ahead in the dark expanse, but this time, the abyss no longer held the same terror it once had. The mutated fish, grotesque and unnatural, moved aside as he approached, their warped forms no longer threats but mere creatures acknowledging something greater.

    His journey stretched for kilometers, an unbroken path of deep contemplation. The past hours weighed heavily upon him, his mind circling the same questions, the same uncertainty. What had he truly become? What future lay ahead?

    The ruined structures he once used for shelter now seemed insignificant, their jagged silhouettes lost in the gloom. He no longer needed to hide from the monsters lurking in the dark¡ªhe had become something far beyond them.

    When Simon finally reached the abyss climber rig, he stepped onto the platform, his movements slow but deliberate. He placed his hand on the console, initiating the ascent. The machinery groaned to life, vibrating beneath him as it prepared for the long journey upward.

    Simon took a seat on the side, leaning his head back against the cold metal bars. The climber shuddered, then began its slow, inevitable rise toward the surface.

    He exhaled, staring up into the pitch-black void above. Somewhere beyond that darkness lay the surface¡ªa world he had not seen with his own eyes, a place that may no longer even hold life. He had spent so long struggling through the depths, running from monsters, from WAU, from himself.

    Now, there was nothing left to run from.

    Only the unknown awaited him.

    And for the first time in a long while, Simon felt something almost like peace.

    The rig came to a halt with a deep, mechanical groan as it reached its destination. Simon grabbed hold of the ladder in the center of the platform and climbed, each movement slow and deliberate. As he emerged, he stood atop the abyss, the silent expanse stretching infinitely beneath his feet.

    He turned, his gaze drifting over the familiar yet decayed sight before him¡ªOmicron.

    The massive facility loomed ahead, its once-imposing structure now blanketed in algae and dust, long abandoned and left to decay under the ocean¡¯s crushing weight. The facility¡¯s towering cranes still stood like rusted sentinels, their skeletal frames faintly illuminated by the deep red glow of warning lights that flickered around their edges. Everything was still. Silent. Forgotten.

    Simon looked down into the abyss beneath him, the seemingly endless darkness pulling at his thoughts. For a moment, he lingered there, staring into its depths as if waiting for something¡ªsome answer, some revelation¡ªto rise from the void. But nothing came.

    With a deep breath, he turned away and stepped forward, heading toward Omicron.

    The control panel at the entrance flickered dimly as he placed his hand on it, activating the depressurization chamber. The door behind him slid shut, the sound of water draining filling the small chamber as the environment shifted from crushing pressure to the stale, stagnant air of Omicron¡¯s interior.

    As the inner door hissed open, Simon stepped inside.

    The locker room greeted him with eerie emptiness. Once, this place had housed power suits¡ªlifelines for those who dared to traverse the deep. Now, the racks stood barren, their purpose long abandoned. The dim lighting flickered, casting wavering shadows against the cold metal walls.

    His gaze instinctively moved left.

    To the small room.

    He stopped at the doorway, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes locked onto the pilot chair, onto the motionless figure slumped within it.

    His body.

    The old Simon.

    The first Simon.

    The Simon he had left behind. The Simon he had killed.

    He stepped closer, staring at the lifeless form. This body¡ªthis thing¡ªwas once him, yet it wasn¡¯t. His current body had belonged to Raleigh Herber, but after everything he had done to himself, after all the modifications and changes, there was nothing left of her .

    His former self, the body before him, was little more than Imogen Reed¡¯s corpse stuffed into a Basic Ductile Suit, its electronics silent, its functions long shut down. And yet, it still looked like him. The old Simon. The first Simon.

    Simon reached out, fingers hovering just above the body¡¯s cold surface. A thought formed, unbidden yet persistent.

    Should I revive it?

    He knew how. The process was simple, almost too easy. But¡­

    No.

    Simon¡¯s hand curled into a fist as he took a step back, his breath unsteady. The weight of what he had done¡ªof the choice he had made back then¡ªsettled heavy on his mind.

    ¡°I will revive it,¡± Simon murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "But not here. Not in this dark place."

    He turned away, his resolve firm, yet a lingering unease followed him as he stepped out of the room, leaving the husk of his former self behind¡ªfor now.

    Simon moved toward the computer deck on the opposite side of the room, his steps slow and deliberate. Reaching the console, he placed his hand onto the Omnitool slot, and instantly, his consciousness expanded into the station¡¯s systems. Data flooded his mind¡ªstatus reports, power levels, security feeds.

    His  eyes flickered as he cycled through the live camera feeds. Then he saw them.

    ¡°They¡¯re still here,¡± he murmured, his processors whirring as he formulated his next move. Even after all this time, remnants of life¡ªor something close to it¡ªremained within Omicron¡¯s dark corridors.

    He removed his hand from the slot, but the connection remained. The station¡¯s systems were now an extension of himself, a silent network threaded through his mind. He turned toward the door at the far end of the room. As he approached, it slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing a long, dimly lit hallway bathed in pulsing red emergency lights.

    And at the end of the hall, she stood.

    A grotesque fusion of flesh and machine, the remnants of a woman¡¯s corpse twisted and reformed by structure gel. Mechanical eyes flickered weakly, artificial components securing her neck to a body now barely human. One foot was a prosthetic, the other a grotesque claw, and a jagged pincer had replaced her right hand.

    She sobbed.

    Her body trembled, her hands covering what was left of her face. The sound was raw, agonizing¡ªan echo of pain that refused to fade.

    Simon took a step forward.

    She flinched, her sobs morphing into ragged, panicked breaths. Then she screamed.

    ¡°GET AWAY FROM ME! GET AWAY FROM ME!¡±

    Simon didn¡¯t stop.

    With each step he took, her shrieks grew more desperate, more broken. Her implants flickered erratically, the dim blue glow pulsating with unstable energy. Then, with a distorted screech, she lunged.

    Her body surged forward, uncoordinated but violently fast, her glowing limbs crackling with power as she hurled herself at him.

    Simon reacted instantly.

    With a mechanical hiss, a blade extended from his right forearm, sleek and deadly. The moment before she reached him, he stepped to the side in a fluid motion, and with a single swift arc, he severed her head clean from her shoulders.

    Her momentum carried her forward. The decapitated body crashed into him, her twitching limbs spasming against his form. But Simon did not move, did not stagger. He stood, silent, unshaken.

    The headless corpse crumpled to the floor. For a moment, her body still twitched, phantom signals sparking through corrupted nerves. Simon knelt, placing her broken form gently to the side.

    He did not look back as he rose and walked forward, stepping deeper into the station¡¯s depths, leaving the echoes of her final scream behind him.

 [11]

    The hall opened into the medical bay.

    To his right stood an examination chair, its backrest slightly elevated, the once-pristine white cushioning cracked and stained with old grime. The wall behind it was a glowing whiteboard, casting a sterile, artificial light that made the room feel hollow. Mounted on the board were X-ray scans, their dark skeletal images revealing grotesque malformations¡ªtwisted, elongated limbs, ribcages warped like coiled metal, skulls stretched into unnatural, inhuman shapes. Bodies malformed by structure gel.

    Beside the chair, a pair of sinks stood unused, their porcelain basins stained with rust and dark, flaking residue. The smell of old disinfectant still clung to the air, a sharp contrast to the scent of something long dead.

    To his left, two medical beds rested against the wall, their sheets crumpled and speckled with ancient bloodstains. The far end of the room housed a decompression chamber, its reinforced glass smeared with handprints¡ªsomeone had pounded on it from the inside. The darkened control panel flickered weakly, the screen cracked, its data unreadable.

    Simon¡¯s gaze dropped to the dried bloodstain on the floor.

    It lingered there for a moment, before he walked away and exited through the door leading to a narrow hall.

    He stepped into a hexagonal chamber.

    The room was vast, balconies wrapping around its edges, leaving the middle open like a great hollow pit. The upper floor was visible from where he stood, and above it, a glass dome. Long, swaying algae clung to its edges, their ghostly tendrils drifting in the slow, silent current.

    His gaze locked onto the containment room in the middle of the chamber.

    The walls of the chamber had been consumed by structure gel¡ªits cancerous masses growing outward, thick tendrils twisting through breaches in the containment¡¯s reinforced glass. The gel had hardened over time, its black, glistening surface cracked like dried tar.

    Simon¡¯s fingers twitched involuntarily.

    He could still remember the fear that gripped him the first time he stepped into this chamber. The sight of Johan Ross standing inside that tiny, empty room, appearing from nowhere like a specter from a nightmare. A gaunt, top-heavy figure, his posture hunched, his movements jittery and unnatural. Thin, writhing tendrils poured from his mouth like the appendages of a deep-sea predator, twitching with each word he spoke.

    "You need to stop it."

    Then, he had vanished.

    Not disappeared¡ªvanished.

    Simon had learned later that it wasn¡¯t teleportation but electrical field manipulation¡ªRoss had bent light around his form, making himself unseen, a ghost slipping through the wreckage of PATHOS-II.

    "That scared the shit out of me." Simon muttered under his breath, stepping closer to the containment room.

    Ross had been different from the others.

    Even after death, even as a monster, he had retained his mind, his purpose. The only one among WAU¡¯s creations that was truly sane¡ªif such a thing could be said of a man trapped in a twisted, inhuman shell.

    Ross had fought to stop the WAU, to end the nightmare it had become. He had succeeded through Simon, through the uncalibrated structure gel that was deeply fused to Simon¡¯s body.

    Simon remembered the fear gripping his heart when he took his arm out of the WAU heart, its sphincter mouth, and looked at the stump of his left hand. And then Ross had walked to him, telling him that Simon needed to die so WAU couldn''t learn how to fight against the uncalibrated structure gel. Just as he was about to kill Simon, a worm monster had burrowed through the wall of the Alpha Site and devoured Johan.

    Simon sighed.<hr>

    The chamber had four doors¡ªone to the left, one to the right, one directly behind the containment room, and one before him.

    Simon turned left.

    He stepped into a laboratory.

    To the left side, various medical devices lined the wall, their screens dark, their buttons coated in dust. Two autopsy tables stretched before him, oriented horizontally, one after the other. The metal trays beside them held long-dried surgical instruments, their surfaces dull with corrosion.

    Simon¡¯s cameras focused on the cages beside the nearest table.

    Three small enclosures¡ªtheir metal bars coated in a fine layer of dust¡ªheld dead rats, their bodies shriveled, mummified by time. Their fur had fallen away, leaving behind only papery skin stretched tight over fragile bones.

    A fourth rat lay motionless on a metal tray, its body dissected, its insides a hollowed cavity. Its ribcage was split open, its innards removed long ago.

    Simon turned his gaze to the storage room to the left.

    Through the large window in the door, he could see rows of glass tanks, their interiors clear with preserved fish¡ªmutated by structure gel.

    Some looked almost normal¡ªjust slightly wrong, with small, dark growths that pulsed faintly with a dim blue glow, scattered across their scales like a creeping disease.

    Others were grotesque distortions of sea life.

    A fish with bulging, lidless eyes, its jaw unhinged, stretched open far beyond natural limits, revealing rows of needle-like teeth. Its throat had been reshaped into something resembling a lamprey¡¯s spiraled maw.

    Another specimen, eel-like in form, had multiple dorsal fins, its body thick with unnatural musculature, its once-fishlike head now sporting fleshy tendrils that coiled like grasping fingers.

    A creature with no discernible head, only a gaping, puckered orifice where its face should be, the rim lined with translucent spines.

    A once-ordinary anglerfish, now bloated, its bioluminescent lure stretched into a tangled mass of glowing tendrils, like some kind of deep-sea jellyfish fused with its skull.

    Simon exhaled slowly, the artificial simulation of a breath.

    Then, he started to gather some devices for his next step.

    "This should work," Simon said as he examined his creation. The device resembled a small speed gun, its frame crude but functional. He pressed the trigger. The head of the device split open, a sharp needle emerging from within before retracting seamlessly, the mechanism sealing shut once more.

    He aimed it at a dead rat on the table and pressed the trigger again. The needle pierced the shriveled flesh and then withdrew, the head sealing once more.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "It seems to work just fine," Simon murmured, scrutinizing the device one last time before turning away.

    Leaving the laboratory, he headed toward the locker room.

    The air inside was stale, thick with the scent of decomposing rubber and aged metal. He moved toward the small chamber where his old self still sat¡ªwhere the first copy of Simon Jarrett had remained in the pilot seat.

    He lifted the corpse¡¯s right arm. Pressing the device against it, he pulled the trigger. The needle punctured the cold skin, slipping effortlessly into muscle tissue before retracting.

    Simon looked at the small readout. "Imogen Reed," he murmured, naming the DNA sample he had just acquired.

    His next destination was the clean room. The door ahead bore its name in faded black letters.

    A section of the short hallway leading inside was a sterilization chamber. The soft hum of automated systems droned in the background, but Simon bypassed the decontamination cycle and stepped through the inner doors.

    The room was spartan in design. On the left wall, two computers rested atop old workstations, their screens dark and lifeless. In the center, a sturdy rectangular platform sat beneath two robotic arms, their joints frozen in time. Hardened structure gel clung to the table in dark, tumor-like growths. Nearby, abandoned measurement instruments lay scattered, once used to study the gel¡¯s spreading, cancerous behavior.

    Beyond the platform stood a freezer, its large glass window fogged with condensation. Inside, two cylindrical glass-and-metal containers rested side by side. There had been a third container¡ªthe very source of the uncalibrated structure gel that had remade his body.

    His gaze drifted to the right, toward the shower stall..

    Inside the glass-walled cubicle, a decapitated woman sat slumped against the tiled wall, her lifeless shoulders sagging. Bits of her head littered the drain, dissolved by the continuous drip-drip-drip of water that still leaked from the overhead fixture. Time had not been kind¡ªmoisture had accelerated the decay, her skin marbled with dark patches of rot.

    Simon stepped toward the shower, his fingers brushing against the cold glass. A metal bar inside had been used to block the door from opening, rusted over from years of exposure.

    Activating the magnets in his synthetic hand, Simon pulled the bar away. It fell with a clang, rattling against the tile. He pushed the door open.

    Moving closer, he pressed the DNA extractor to her arm and pulled the trigger.

    "Lisa Cameron," he muttered, storing the extracted sample in the secure compartment on his back.

    Simon turned his attention to the biosafety cabinets ahead.

    Beyond the glass door, three small containment chambers sat in eerie stillness, their large observation windows revealing the horrors within.

    Simon stepped inside and moved toward the cabinet on the right.

    His sensors detected movement.

    "He¡¯s still alive," Simon murmured, opening the chamber.

    Inside, a mouse twitched slowly, its tiny body split open and fused to a small battery in its abdomen ,wrapped in dark structure gel.

    Simon exhaled, pressing his fingers against the rat¡¯s frail body.

    The gel reacted.

    It shifted¡ªreforming, moving deliberately rather than mindlessly sprawling like WAU¡¯s usual mutations. The rat¡¯s flesh realigned, its gaping wound sealing as the structure gel knit its form back together.

    The only sign of its transformation was a hunched growth on its back, a small battery now encased in a slick, black carapace of structure gel, its abdomen encircled by a dark band that gleamed like wet latex.

    The rat squeaked, rising onto its hind legs. Beady black eyes stared up at Simon, unblinking. Watching.

    Simon would have smirked now, if he could.

    "I¡¯m gonna make you a little submarine so you can come with me. What do you say, little buddy?"

    The rat chirped and scurried onto his shoulder, nestling against his collar. Simon rubbed the lower part of his helmet, marveling at the strange, resilient thing he had just created.

    For the first time in ages, he had something alive beside him.

    Even if it was just a rat.

    Simon exhaled.

    With all the data WAU had gathered on structure gel, he could now create stability¡ªunlike the mindless mutations it had left in its wake.

    "To think that WAU could have done this from the start¡­" Simon murmured. But WAU hadn¡¯t cared about comfort¡ªit had been fixated on human survival, no matter the cost.

    Simon¡¯s focus sharpened as his mind reached out to the rat.

    He felt its presence¡ªa small, pulsing consciousness linked to his own, just as he had felt the abyssal creatures after connecting with the Solipsist Queen.

    Shaking the thought away, Simon left the room and returned to the medical bay.

    He stopped at the decapitated, malformed body of the mutated woman. With the DNA extractor, he gathered another sample.

    Her name was added to the list.

    Simon adjusted his grip on the device. "There should be a couple more corpses around."

    And he would find them whether they were still ''alive'' or not.

    <hr>

    Simon headed to the door beyond the containment chamber and into a short hall. To his left and right, the hallway ended with stairwells¡ªone leading down to the ground floor, the other spiraling upward.

    But his gaze remained fixed on the door in the middle of the hall. The glowing letters of the plaque  above it read: HYDROPONICS.

    He stepped inside.

    A putrid stench hit him like a wave.

    "The smell," Simon muttered as his sensors registered the overwhelming rot in the air. A mixture of decay and stagnant water, thick and cloying, clung to every surface.

    "I¡¯ve already been here once. Why didn¡¯t I shut down the olfactory sensors?" he scolded himself.

    Even his little rat companion was affected¡ªthe small creature covered its snout with tiny paws, chirping in discomfort.

    The room was filled with empty, algae-coated tanks. Once, these had been filled with water, supporting sponges where legumes had once flourished. Now, only remnants remained¡ªdried-out roots, brittle husks, the last traces of a dead ecosystem.

    Simon walked to the cabinets. He opened them one by one, shifting through the abandoned supplies.

    Then, his fingers froze.

    "Yes," he whispered, his cameras locking onto containers filled with seeds. Some were shriveled, beyond saving¡ªbut others still looked viable.

    He picked up the best-preserved ones, turning them in his hand. If humanity had any future, it would need food. And now, at least, he had something¡ªa lifeline. A chance.

    After carefully storing the seeds in a secure compartment, he closed the cabinet doors and made a mental note of their location. If the surface held nothing, this would be his only option.

    Simon exited the room and turned toward the stairwell leading upward.

    Then, he heard it.

    A metallic sound. A sharp edge dragging across the floor.

    Simon froze.

    His audio sensors sharpened, amplifying the noise. A slow, deliberate scrape. Like something testing the ground, feeling for movement.

    His eyes flicked toward his rat companion. The small creature didn¡¯t need any prompting¡ªit scurried onto his back, slipping into a compartment built into his armor. The storage hatch sealed tight, locking the rat inside, protected.

    Simon straightened.

    Slowly, deliberately, the ceramic blade in his right arm slid out¡ªsilent and lethal, its edge gleaming in the dim light.

    He walked ahead, toward the sound.

    And listened.

    He stopped just before the door leading out of the stairwell. His stance shifted, steady, calculating.

    Simon raised his left arm, and from his palm, the worm camera slithered out, its flexible, synthetic body moving fluidly as it snaked ahead. The tiny lens rotated, scanning the area in smooth, methodical sweeps.

    A tight hallway stretched beyond the doorway. To his left, the passage had been completely sealed¡ªhardened structure gel had grown over the walls and floor like cancerous scar tissue, its glossy, black surface cracked and rigid.

    The path ahead was blocked as well, leaving only a narrow opening just large enough for something very small to slip through.

    Then, the camera stopped.

    It found the source of the sound.

    The creature stood in the dim corridor, its twisted form shuffling forward in a slow, uneven gait. The tattered remains of an orange Tau jumpsuit clung to its body, hanging loosely over flesh that had been horrifically warped by structure gel.

    Much like the mutated woman Simon had encountered earlier, this abomination bore the unmistakable signs of WAU''s crude reconstruction¡ªa once-human form now held together by organic patches and mechanical grafts, its body an eerie mockery of life.

    A jagged shrapnel wound split its torso, the torn flesh barely concealing the mass of dark, pulsing tendrils that coiled beneath. The gel-infested metal fragments jutting from its skin suggested a brutal death¡ªone the WAU had refused to accept, reassembling the corpse into something that could move again, though not without consequence. Its body was a patchwork of open sores, metal plates, and synthetic sinew, all fused together in a haphazard, grotesque amalgamation.

    Its face was an even worse sight. A large section of its skull had been crushed and rebuilt, one eye socket replaced with a cluster of luminescent nodes, glowing faintly like deep-sea bioluminescence. The jaw was partially unhinged, as if broken and never properly reset, leaving its mouth permanently twisted into a slack, gaping snarl. Several tubular growths protruded from the side of its head, pulsating in rhythm with the gel coursing through its veins.

    One arm hung limply at its side, stiff and mostly useless, but the other¡ªthe one WAU had deemed salvageable¡ªwas reinforced with exposed tendrils of structure gel, forming thin, spidery extensions that twitched with unnatural precision. The right leg, partially crushed, had been "fixed" with a makeshift splint of fused bone and metal, resulting in its awkward, dragging movement.

    Simon knew better than to assume it was harmless.

    Despite its shambling appearance, he had seen what these things could do. The WAU¡¯s creations were persistent. Mindless yet driven, clinging to life through pure, unrelenting instinct.

 [12]

    He activated his leg suppressors¡ªsilent mechanisms dulling the impact of his steps. The corridor lights shut down, plunging the space into absolute darkness.

    For Simon, it made no difference.

    His sensors adjusted instantly, turning the world into a sharp wireframe of heat and movement, outlining every object, every twitch of motion. The creature stood there, unaware, searching¡ª

    Simon struck.

    With blinding speed, he severed the creature¡¯s head, the ceramic blade slicing through sinew and corrupted flesh in a single, fluid movement. But it didn¡¯t die immediately.

    Even headless, its remaining arm jerked violently, spasming in unnatural, erratic convulsions.

    Simon moved fast, circling to its side, his foot sweeping out in a calculated arc.

    The creature collapsed onto its back, its movements now frantic, uncoordinated, its remaining limbs twitching uncontrollably.

    Simon came down on top of it, his other blade snapping free from his forearm.

    With precise, mechanical efficiency, he drove the blades down, piercing both of the monster¡¯s arms, pinning it to the floor. The gel-infested limbs twitched, struggling to break free, but he didn¡¯t give it a chance.

    From the embedded blades, structure gel slithered downward, its inky tendrils creeping over the abomination¡¯s flailing form.

    Simon watched as the gel began its work¡ª

    It drained the last vestiges of lingering energy, absorbing the  current running through the creature¡¯s body. The spasms grew weaker, the limbs shuddering, convulsing¡ª

    Then, at last, it stopped.

    The structure gel hardened, its organic sheen fading into a cold, dead mass. Whatever animating force had kept the husk moving was gone.

    Simon rose to his feet, retracting the ceramic blades, their edges slick with congealed, blackened gel.

    He took one last look at the lifeless remains beneath him.

    The storage compartment on Simon¡¯s back  opened, and his rat companion scurried onto his shoulder, its whiskers twitching, its tiny nose wrinkling as it sniffed the air cautiously.

    Simon scratched under its chin, feeling the soft, bristly fur. "Don''t worry, there¡¯s one more of those things around here, but I closed the door."

    The rat paused, tilting its small head toward him before turning left and right, its black eyes scanning the area as if verifying his words.

    Simon did the same.

    Ahead, the hallway had been sealed shut by a hardened wall of structure gel. He could probably force it open¡ªinfusing it with energy, commanding it to shift aside. But according to the Omicron schematics, the room beyond was just a storage area. Not worth the trouble.

    To his left, a door led to the hexagonal room¡ªthe one with balconies lining its edges.

    He would head there soon. But first...

    Simon turned right, stepping down a short hallway.

    The door at the end hissed, its mechanical seals disengaging as it slid open.

    Simon took in the grotesque scene before him.

    The decompression chamber was a slaughterhouse.

    Four bodies lay sprawled around it, their heads obliterated¡ªexploded from the inside. Meat, bone, and brain matter painted the floor and walls in a macabre display of crimson splatter. Two of them were still in their diving suits, their helmets cracked, the remains of their skulls plastered against the visors, frozen in a gruesome final moment of agony.

    Time had already begun its work. The blood had darkened, dried into thick, congealed smears, the bodies dehydrated, their flesh tightening over brittle bone.

    Simon moved with practiced efficiency. He retrieved his DNA extractor, pressing the device against each corpse. With each sample collected, he logged their genetic data, storing it safely.

    If¡ªor when¡ªhe attempted to bring back humanity, he would need as much genetic diversity as possible. Better to do this now.

    Unfortunately, the DNA extractor didn¡¯t work on the mutated creatures. Their genetic material was too far gone, corrupted beyond recognition.

    With the samples secured, Simon retraced his steps, making his way back to the hexagonal chamber.

    Two doors waited¡ªone to the left, one to the right.

    He turned left, heading toward the dining hall.

    The room was eerily still, save for the faint hum of dead electronics.

    Simon walked toward the corpse slumped against a table.

    His rat hissed, its small body tensing on his shoulder.

    Simon could guess why.

    The rat recognized her scent.

    "Sorry for what he did to you, little buddy," Simon murmured, rubbing a soothing finger along its back. "But she¡¯s dead now. Consider your revenge taken."

    The body lay motionless, its upper torso slumped forward, her arms limp at her sides. A laptop rested beside her, its screen dark, stained by the same crimson spray that painted the rest of the table.

    Her head¡ªlike the others¡ªwas gone, exploded, leaving only a grisly aftermath.

    Simon pressed the DNA extractor against her back, feeling the slight vibration of the device as it collected the genetic imprint.

    The name appeared in his HUD.

    Julia Dahl.

    He logged the data and turned his attention to searching the hall for supplies.

    "Hey, buddy, let¡¯s get you some food."

    The rat perked up, rubbing its small paws against its snout, as if understanding.

    Simon sifted through cabinets and drawers, pushing aside long-expired rations and shattered containers until he found something usable.

    He pulled out a pack of dried biscuits and a few sealed packets of ramen.

    He tore open a biscuit, placing a crumb in front of the rat. It immediately snatched it up, nibbling happily.

    Simon chuckled, slipping the ramen into his storage compartment for later.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    As he sat down at the table, watching the rat devour its meal, a thought crossed his mind.

    "I should give you a name."

    The rat paused mid-bite, its nose twitching, its tiny eyes flicking up at him.

    Simon tapped his metal fingers against the table in thought.

    "What do you think about Jerry?"

    The rat lifted its head for a moment¡ªconsidering¡ªbefore returning to its meal.

    Simon chuckled, leaning back slightly.

    "I¡¯ll take that as a yes."

    He wasn¡¯t alone from now on.

    After a brief respite, Simon returned to the hexagonal chamber and approached the right door.

    The storage compartment on his back slid open.

    "You better head inside, Jerry. Once I¡¯m done, you can come out," Simon murmured.

    The rat hesitated only for a second before scurrying inside, the compartment sealing shut with a soft click.

    Simon stepped into the narrow hallway, following the glowing sign that read:

    POWER ROOM.

    The door hissed open, revealing a massive chamber, a labyrinth of heavy machinery, pipes, and energy converters¡ªthe beating heart of Omicron¡¯s power grid. Some of the systems were nuclear, their reactor cores humming faintly beneath layers of reinforced plating, casting a low, mechanical thrum that resonated in Simon¡¯s frame.

    A serpentine pathway twisted through the industrial maze, forcing him to navigate carefully through sharp 90-degree turns every few meters. Left. Right. Left. Right.

    His sensors flickered as he stopped beside a control panel.

    A body lay slumped at its base.

    Simon¡¯s gaze darkened as he took in the grotesque state of what was once a man.

    A large portion of the skull had been pierced, structure gel spilling from the wound like coagulated oil, its dark tendrils slithering downward, burrowing into the neck and chest like parasitic roots.

    The body breathed.

    Shallow. Inconsistent. Artificial.

    But at this point, Simon knew¡ªthere was nothing left to save.

    This man was not alive.

    Not in any way that mattered.

    His body was just another husk, another shattered puppet held together by the WAU¡¯s insatiable will to preserve.

    Simon placed his hand on the control panel, his fingers pressing into cold metal.

    A pulse. A command.

    The connection severed.

    The structure gel twitched¡ªthen froze.

    The tendrils recoiled, their dark sheen fading, the corrupt energy bleeding away like a dying ember. The body stiffened, its artificial breaths stuttering¡ª

    Then, silence.

    For the second time, this man died.

    But this time, it was for good.

    Simon exhaled, retracting his hand.

    There was no room for regret. No room for hesitation.

    Only the practical necessity of finishing what needed to be done.

    He retrieved his DNA extractor, pressing it against the corpse¡¯s shoulder.

    His HUD blinked: Sample Acquired.

    Without another glance, Simon turned and walked forward, deeper into the heart of Omicron, leaving the lifeless shell behind.

    Then, his audio sensors picked it up.

    Crying.

    A wet, gasping sob, echoing through the metal corridors.

    Simon killed the lights.

    The room plunged into absolute darkness.

    His leg suppressors activated, silencing every footstep.

    Simon moved like a ghost.

    <h4>Two meters ahead.</h4>

    The source of the sobbing came into view.

    A monster¡ªsimilar to the one he had slain in the narrow hallway when he first entered Omicron.

    Simon moved swiftly.

    The blade flashed.

    The head dropped to the floor with a wet thud.

    The body twitched.

    Then¡ªit turned.

    Black gel sprayed from the gaping neck wound.

    The corpse lunged, its arm slamming into Simon¡¯s frame, then wrapping around his forearm, trying to crush him.

    But his robotic body wouldn¡¯t break.

    Simon exhaled, his voice calm, almost pitying.

    "Rest in peace."

    His blade plunged deep into the creature¡¯s chest, the tip sinking into the twisted mess of gel-infested tissue.

    Structure gel slithered from his weapon, tendrils creeping into the abomination¡¯s form, draining the  energy that animated it.

    The struggles weakened.

    The thrashing slowed.

    The grip on Simon¡¯s arm went limp.

    Finally, the body collapsed, a lifeless husk.

    Simon knelt, carefully moving the corpse aside.

    He reached for his DNA extractor and pressed it to the intact flesh.

    This one still had large portions of unmutated human tissue.

    Not like the patchwork monstrosity he had encountered earlier.

    The device hummed.

    His HUD blinked: Sample Acquired.

    Simon stood up, sparing one last glance at the body.

    Then, he turned and walked away.

    It was time to head to the next site.

    <h2>Theta.</h2>

    And there, he knew, things would not be as easy.

    <hr>

    Simon descended to Omicron¡¯s ground level, making his way to the robot repair bay.

    There, he planned to build Jerry his own little submarine.

    But something stopped him.

    As he reached the hallway, his gaze froze on a figure slumped against the wall.

    His chest rose and fell.

    He was breathing.

    Simon¡¯s fist clenched, but he forced himself to steady his emotions.

    He stepped toward the man.

    The man wore a blue jumpsuit, his head completely bald, devoid of hair. Simon¡¯s gaze dropped lower.

    His torso had been torn open.

    Or at least¡ªit had been once.

    More than half of his abdomen had been replaced with wires, pipes, and cables, twisted together in an amalgamation of flesh and machine.

    His chest rose and fell with a metallic creak, like a broken machine barely clinging to function.

    Simon raised his hand toward the man¡¯s body.

    Then, he hesitated.

    His fingers curled for a brief moment¡ª

    Then, finally, he placed his palm on the man¡¯s chest.

    "I hope I don¡¯t regret this."

    Structure gel slithered from Simon¡¯s fingertips, sinking into the man¡¯s body.

    The mess of cables and tubes shifted, reconfiguring into something more stable. The wires untangled, merging into a smoother, more efficient network, the entire front of his torso sealing over with a sleek, black layer of structure gel¡ªflexible and strong, just like the coating Simon had given Jerry.

    Then, Simon reached deeper¡ª

    Into the man¡¯s nervous system.

    He scanned for brain activity.

    Alive.

    Comatose.

    "Let¡¯s see if I can wake you up."

    From the right side of the man¡¯s skull, a thin cable slithered outward, flexing like a living thing before it retracted back inside, repositioning closer to the brainstem.

    The structure gel followed, seeping into the connection point.

    The man¡¯s eyes snapped open.

    He blinked rapidly, his pupils dilating as he tried to process his surroundings.

    Then, he spoke.

    His voice was rasped, dry¡ªbut clear.

    "Who... are... you?"

    "I¡¯m Simon. Do you remember who you are?"

    Jerry, still nestled on Simon¡¯s shoulder, watched the man intently.

    A flicker of recognition crossed the man¡¯s newly reconstructed face.

    A moment of silence.

    Then¡ª

    "My name is Adam Lasker. I was the relay technician for Omicron," he rasped.

    Simon nodded. "Good."

    Adam¡¯s gaze drifted downward.

    He looked at his own body.

    At the black, synthetic covering of structure gel, at the wires and cables woven into his flesh.

    His breath hitched.

    "What... happened?" his voice shook.

    His fingers traced the slick surface of his abdomen.

    Then¡ªhis eyes widened.

    "Why am I still alive?" His gaze drifted lower, to the sealed remains of his torn torso.

    A whispered realization escaped his lips.

    "I... should be dead."

    His hands trembled.

    The man¡¯s lower lip trembled.

    "The WAU... the monster..."

    Adam¡¯s breathing turned erratic, chest rising and falling too fast, his body struggling to process the overwhelming shock. He tried to push himself up, his back still pressed against the wall, but his legs shook, barely able to hold his weight.

    "Adam, calm down." Simon placed his hands on the man¡¯s shoulders, steady but firm. "I killed them all. They won¡¯t hurt you. Not anymore."

    Adam¡¯s wild eyes met his, searching for assurance, for some sense of reality in all of this.

    "How?" he gasped, genuine disbelief lacing his voice. "Those things¡ªthey¡¯re resilient. Like bugs! PATHOS-II doesn¡¯t have weapons¡ªnothing strong enough to take them down!" His voice rose in panic. "And what happened to my torso?!"

    Simon didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, he lifted his right arm.

    With a soft mechanical hiss, the ceramic blade slid out¡ªdark, polished, and razor-sharp.

    Adam froze.

    His breath hitched as he stared at the weapon, his wide eyes following the deadly edge as if trying to comprehend its existence.

    Simon¡¯s voice was calm. Measured. Absolute.

    "If you cut them to pieces, they don¡¯t get back up."

    Silence hung between them.

    Adam¡¯s gaze dropped to the metallic floor, his jaw tightening, his fingers twitching as he rubbed his abdomen, the synthetic texture of structure gel and cables underneath felt unsettling beneath his touch.

    "Then what happened to my body?" he whispered, almost afraid of the answer.

    "I patched you up," he said simply. "Used some equipment from the lab. You were in a comatose state."

    A lie.

    But one that Adam needed to hear.

    If Simon told him the truth¡ªthat the WAU¡¯s structure gel now ran through his veins, that his flesh had been rebuilt, Adam might lose himself completely.

    For now, he would protect him from that truth.

    Adam¡¯s breathing slowed, but his eyes remained wary.

    Then, suddenly¡ª

    "WAU¡­ is the warden system still operational?!"

    The panic returned.

    Simon shook his head.

    "There is no more WAU. It¡¯s gone for good."

    A shuddering breath escaped Adam¡¯s lips.

    "Good¡­ that crazy AI¡­"

    His body sagged against the wall, the last traces of adrenaline fading, leaving only exhaustion and disbelief.

    Minutes passed.

    The silence between them was heavy, but not unwelcome.

    Adam finally spoke again, his voice quieter. Weaker.

    "You said your name is Simon¡­ It doesn¡¯t sound familiar."

    His brows furrowed slightly, as if trying to pull pieces of memory together. "Which site are you from?"

    Simon hesitated for only a second before responding.

    "I¡¯m from Upsilon."

    Another lie.

    But one that wasn¡¯t entirely false.

    The old Simon had awakened at Upsilon.

    If he revealed the full truth¡ªthat he was a copy, an AI, that his body was no longer human¡ª

    It might push Adam too far.

    Adam simply nodded, his mind still a storm of thoughts. His eyes drifted to the floor, unfocused, processing everything in silence.

    Simon stepped back, giving him space, his fingers idly stroking Jerry¡¯s small back as the rat nestled on his shoulder.

    Jerry, sensing the fragile state of the moment, remained still.

    Simon waited.

    He let Adam gather his thoughts.

 [13]

    "Simon?" Adam asked.

    "Yes?" Simon responded, turning his head slightly.

    "Can you help me get to the dining hall? I¡¯m starving," Adam admitted, his voice still hoarse.

    Simon considered the request, but the image of Julia Dahl¡¯s headless corpse flashed through his mind. It wasn¡¯t a sight Adam needed to see right now.

    "Stay here. I¡¯ll go prepare some ramen and bring you some water," Simon said, his tone even, decisive.

    Adam nodded weakly. "Alright."

    Simon glanced at his small companion.

    "Jerry, keep him company."

    The rat twitched his whiskers at Simon¡¯s words. Simon knelt, placing a hand on the floor. Jerry scurried down his arm, his small paws tapping lightly onto the cold metal.

    Simon gave a thumbs-up, then rose to his feet and walked toward the dining hall.

    <hr>

    When Simon returned, Adam was where he had left him, Jerry perched on his shoulder, Adam¡¯s fingers idly stroking his tiny back. A small smile played on Adam¡¯s otherwise exhausted face.

    Simon approached, setting down a metal tray beside him, the steaming bowl of ramen releasing rich, seasoned steam into the air.

    He moved beside Adam, sliding an arm under his armpit, helping him rise to his feet.

    Adam¡¯s legs wobbled, still weak from atrophy, but Simon steadied him, guiding him step by step toward the dispatch room.

    Then, Adam froze.

    His breath hitched, eyes widening in horror. His gaze locked onto the hardened, solidified tendrils of structure gel creeping along one of the consoles.

    "Don¡¯t worry." Simon¡¯s voice was firm. "Now that WAU is dead, these things are solidifying."

    Adam exhaled shakily, allowing himself to be guided to a chair near the console. He sat heavily, still staring at the frozen remnants of WAU¡¯s corruption.

    Simon left the tiny room, then returned moments later with the tray of food and a water bottle. He placed it next to Adam and took a step back.

    "Thank you," Adam murmured.

    He reached for the spoon, blew lightly on the steaming broth, and took his first sip.

    Simon stepped back, giving him space.

    The room was silent, save for the quiet clinking of the spoon against the bowl.

    Adam ate slowly, methodically, his hands steadying, his breathing evening out.

    When he had finished, he placed the empty bowl on the tray, then turned to Simon.

    "Can you help me get to my room?" Adam asked. "I¡¯d like to lie down."

    Simon nodded. "Of course."

    <hr>

    They walked side by side, Adam leaning on Simon for support.

    They exited the dispatch room, heading for the door on the opposite side of the hallway.

    Adam pressed the panel beside the door. A faint beep. The metal door slid open with a soft hiss.

    The room was simple. A bed. A locker.

    Simon helped lower Adam onto the bed, ensuring he was comfortable before stepping back.

    Then, he dragged a chair beside him and sat down.

    "How are you feeling?" Simon asked, his tone calm, careful.

    Adam stared at the metal ceiling, his breath slow.

    "I think I¡¯m okay," he admitted. Then, after a pause¡ª "Simon?"

    "Yes?"

    Adam turned his head, looking at him.

    "Can you take off your helmet?" His voice was quiet, uncertain. "I¡¯d like to see the face of the man who saved me."

    Simon¡¯s mind raced.

    Hundreds of responses flooded his system, hundreds of ways to evade the request.

    He had known this moment would come.

    But still, he wasn¡¯t ready.

    "As you can see," Simon said, keeping his voice level, "this isn¡¯t a standard Haimatsu Power Suit. It¡¯s¡­ much harder to remove the helmet. I modified it for better protection."

    Adam studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.

    "I understand."

    A breath. A pause.

    "If it¡¯s not too much trouble, I¡¯d like to be alone with my thoughts for a while."

    Simon nodded. "Of course."

    He stood, pushing the chair back. "I¡¯ll be in the Robot Repair Bay, down the hall. If you need anything, just call."

    He hesitated. "Do you want Jerry to keep you company?"

    Adam shook his head.

    "Alright then."

    Simon turned toward the door, taking a final glance at the man he had saved.

    "I¡¯m leaving the door open," he said. "If you need anything, just shout."

    Adam simply nodded and closed his eyes.

    Simon watched him for a moment longer, then stepped out into the hallway, leaving Adam alone with the silence.

    Then, without a word, he turned and headed toward the Robot Repair Bay.

    The door slid to the side, and Simon stepped inside.

    To the left, a metal table held a computer, its dark screen flickering with residual power.

    To the right, two metal workbenches stood beneath bright surgical lights, mounted to a circular metal frame on the ceiling. A computer terminal, attached to a mobile arm, hung overhead, its wires snaking down like veins.

    Scattered tools littered the space¡ªwrenches, pliers, soldering irons, remnants of long-forgotten repairs.

    And there, on the closest table¡ª

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    A robot.

    A 95 model worker drone, sleek, bullet-shaped, its frame smooth and streamlined for efficiency.

    Roughly the size of a medium dog, it had a single robotic arm attached to its upper chassis, the two-fingered claw stiff with disuse.

    Simon stared at it.

    Memories flashed.

    He had first booted up this drone when he arrived at Omicron¡ªhe had needed its cortex chip, the very chip now residing in his skull.

    He remembered its screams¡ªa horrific, gurgled wail, like a man being choked to death.

    He remembered its convulsions, the spasms...

    Simon took a deep breath¡ªor at least, he simulated one.

    He had no lungs anymore.

    But the habit remained.

    Pushing the thoughts aside, Simon gathered tools from the tables and turned toward the drone.

    "Let¡¯s make you a submarine, Jerry."

    His little companion twitched its whiskers, as if understanding.

    Simon dismantled the robot, piece by piece.

    Stripping away the unnecessary components, repurposing what was useful.

    His mind worked in automatic rhythm¡ªa strange, instinctual blend of robotics and engineering knowledge.

    Time blurred.

    When he finished, the drone looked nearly the same¡ª

    Except for the glass cockpit embedded at its front.

    A tiny, spherical chamber, designed for one occupant.

    Simon checked his internal clock.

    Five hours.

    He exhaled, stepping back. "Let¡¯s check on Adam after we see if this works."

    He opened a small hatch at the back of the cockpit, then gently helped Jerry climb inside.

    The rat scurried into the transparent chamber, his small body darting between the tiny levers and controls.

    Simon sealed the hatch, watching as Jerry inspected his new environment.

    Inside, there were simple controls¡ª

    One lever for vertical movement.

    One for directional movement.

    He had left the robotic arm intact, but there were no controls for it.

    Instead, Simon connected wirelessly, sending a pulse of command data to the drone¡¯s systems.

    He lifted the robotic arm experimentally.

    Jerry twitched his ears, watching.

    He opened the hatch, and Jerry darted back up his arm, settling onto his shoulder once more.

    Simon smirked. "I can¡¯t wait to take this outside for a test run. But first let¡¯s see how Adam is doing."

    <hr>

    Simon walked back through the  corridors, his footsteps soft against the cold metal.

    He reached Adam¡¯s room.

    The door was already open as he had left it.

    And then¡ª

    Simon froze.

    Adam was hanging from the ceiling.

    A cable looped around his neck, the other end wrapped tightly around a pipe jutting from the ceiling.

    His body swayed slightly, feet hovering inches from the floor.

    His face was pale, his eyes half-lidded, staring into nothingness.

    Simon¡¯s fingers curled into fists.

    He should have seen this coming.

    The way Adam had spoken. The way he had looked at his body with that hollow, disbelieving stare.

    The way he had refused Jerry¡¯s company.

    Simon stepped forward, his movements slow, almost hesitant.

    The room felt heavier now¡ª

    Like something irrevocable had settled into the air.

    For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the man he had tried to save.

    His mind processed the logistics first.

    The knot was clumsy, desperate¡ªhe had used whatever he could find.

    No hesitation.

    No second thoughts.

    He had probably made up his mind before Simon had even left.

    And now, there was nothing left.

    Simon exhaled, stepping closer.

    He reached up, fingers brushing against the cable. With a sharp swipe of his blade, the cable snapped.

    Adam¡¯s body crumpled onto the bed, limp, unmoving.

    Simon lowered his hand, staring down at the lifeless form.

    The bed he had helped him onto¡ª

    Now nothing more than a deathbed.

    "...Damn it."

    The words came out in a whisper.

    Not angry. Not frustrated.

    Just tired.

    He reached for his DNA extractor, pressing it to Adam¡¯s shoulder.

    A soft hiss as the device did its work.

    His hood blinked: Sample Acquired.

    Simon looked at Adam¡¯s face one last time.

    Then, silently¡ª

    He turned and walked away.

    <hr>

    Simon stepped inside the locker room on the ground level, the modified 95 drone tucked under his arm and Jerry perched on his shoulder.

    His cameras focused on the two bodies sprawled before him¡ª

    One clad in a diving suit.

    The other in work clothes, faded and stiff with time.

    And just like the rest of the corpses he had found throughout Omicron¡ª

    Their heads were gone.

    Blown apart, splattered across the walls and floor, a grotesque, final testament to the horrors of PATHOS-II.

    Simon didn¡¯t flinch.

    He had seen too many like this already.

    Stepping through the slick pools of dried blood and scattered fragments of skull, he withdrew his DNA extractor, pressing it swiftly against what remained.

    A soft hiss followed as the device collected the samples.

    Then, he moved on.

    Water would wash away the mess.

    He reached the decompression chamber at the end of the room, the door hissing shut behind him.

    With careful hands, he placed the drone down, opening a small hatch to let Jerry scurry inside.

    The chamber sealed.

    A low rumble vibrated the floor, followed by the gurgling rush of water flooding in.

    The pressure stabilized, and the drone gently floated beside him, its red cockpit light flickering faintly in the dim water.

    The outer door groaned open, revealing the ocean ahead.

    <hr>

    Right now, he was 200 meters below the surface, in the twilight zone.

    The water remained dark, cause the sky was  shrouded by a thick veil of ash from the impact above.

    Still, Simon felt relief.

    At least he was out of the Abyss.

    The path forward was marked clearly¡ª

    The thick growth of algae, big and small, swaying in the gentle currents, outlined the safe passage ahead.

    Simon moved forward, his body weightless, his metal limbs adjusting to the drag of the water.

    The modified 95 drone hovered at his side, its thrusters emitting a soft hum, keeping pace effortlessly.

    Ahead, the massive metallic icosahedron spheres loomed¡ª

    Once giant underwater fish tanks, used by Omicron¡¯s researchers to experiment on various aquatic species.

    Now, their nets were torn, shredded by time and decay, their once controlled environments left abandoned.

    The spheres were empty.

    Whatever had been inside had long since escaped¡ªor died.

    Floating buoys, their red lights blinking, marked the dozen scattered spheres.

    Simon¡¯s sensors detected movement.

    A small school of fish darted past, gliding effortlessly between the decayed structures.

    Life still clung to this place¡ª

    Even in the ruins.

    <hr>

    Simon turned left, following the cliff¡¯s edge that led down into the Abyss¡ªthe same chasm he had once ascended from.

    He stayed close to the rock face, his metal frame barely disturbing the water as he moved.

    Then, he saw it¡ª

    A metallic structure.

    It looked like a landing module, but larger, reinforced, designed for sustained underwater operations.

    Simon approached, grabbing onto the corroded ladder at its base. He pulled himself inside, his sensors adjusting to the dark interior.

    Inside, it was silent.

    Still.

    And yet, the body within remained intact, floating gently in the flooded space.

    A remnant of another life, preserved by the cold, indifferent depths.

    With mechanical precision, Simon pressed the DNA extractor against the corpse¡¯s suit, securing one last sample.

    The device blinked. Sample Acquired.

    Simon lingered for only a moment, his gaze tracing the remnants of the past.

    Then, he turned back toward the path ahead.

    <hr>

    The road ahead was long and silent, marked only by the ghosts of the past and the ruins of humanity¡¯s ambition.

    With Jerry¡¯s submarine humming beside him, Simon set his sights on Theta.

    Simon switched on the light at the top of his helmet as they stepped into the massive underwater pipe, its walls a mix of concrete and rusted steel, stretching into the darkness ahead.

    He remembered this place.

    The last time he was here, he had been flooded through this very tunnel, barely holding on as the currents dragged him forward. He also remembered the fear¡ªthe sheer terror¡ªwhen that monstrous creature, covered in cancerous, pulsating growths, had nearly torn him apart.

    ''I hope that thing is dead for good,'' Simon thought grimly, glancing at his right arm, where his nanoceramic blade was housed.

    His gaze lifted upward.

    The pipe angled into a sharp 90-degree climb, disappearing into the darkness above.

    With a soft mechanical whir, fins unfolded from his legs as he activated his propulsion jets.

    Slowly, he began to ascend, his frame moving effortlessly through the cold, stagnant water, Jerry¡¯s submarine following close behind.

    They traversed the pipe, their passage silent except for the soft hum of the propulsion systems, until they emerged into a huge chamber.

    The lower half of the chamber was still submerged, its surface broken by floating debris and corroded scaffolding. Pipes ran along the walls, metal crates lay scattered at the bottom, their contents long since plundered or lost to decay.

    Simon scanned the area, his optics flickering over the wreckage. The place felt abandoned, but that meant nothing down here.

    They moved forward, swimming across to the other side of the chamber.

    As they reached the end, Simon extended his arm, breaking the surface and gripping the edge of the short hallway above.

    With a powerful push, he hauled himself out of the water, his fins retracting back into his legs as the jets powered down.

    Reaching down, he grabbed the 95 drone, lifting it effortlessly from the water before setting it down. A small set of wheels deployed from its underside, allowing it to move across the floor on its own.

    Simon straightened up, his frame dripping water onto the corroded metal grating beneath his feet.

    The hall stretched forward, well lit and eerily silent.

    They moved forward cautiously, approaching the sealed door ahead.

    Simon reached for the panel on the side, his fingers pressing against the cold interface.

    A soft beep.

    A hiss.

    The door slid open.

    Simon stepped inside¡ª

    And stopped cold.

    "Even these ones are still alive¡­" he muttered, his voice low, almost disbelieving.

    The scene before him was grotesque.

    A pillar of flesh¡ªtwisted, corrupted organic matter¡ªstood in the center of the room. It resembled coral, branching into dark, pulsing growths, its form sprawling outward like a tumor with no end.

    And attached to it¡ª

    A woman.

    Her emaciated body was skin and bone, her flesh stretched tightly over her skeletal frame, her skin darkened by thick, blackened veins that pulsed with something unnatural.

    She was alive.

    She was breathing.

    Her chest rose and fell, but only just¡ªshallow, faint, as if life clung to her by the barest thread.

    Her eyes were closed.

    She looked almost looked like she was sleeping.

 [14]

    Simon approached cautiously.

    And as he did¡ª

    Something brushed against his mind.

    A voice. A woman¡¯s voice.

    Proud. Confident. Speaking with excitement about revolutionary projects, shaking the president¡¯s hand, beaming with ambition and promise.

    Simon quickly realized that his mind had telepathically linked with the woman¡¯s.

    His sensors scanned the structure, his vision flickering between the organic mass of flesh and hardened structure gel that held her trapped.

    The structure gel was making this possible.

    He remembered.

    The nightmares.

    The eyeless creature that had once ensnared him, trapping him in its web of horror, twisting his greatest fears into something even worse.

    The woman was dreaming¡ªunaware of what had become of her.

    The structure was sending and receiving electrical signals, her brain caught in a loop, reliving the glorious past she believed she still inhabited.

    Simon¡¯s gaze flicked to the edges of the flesh pillar, noting the blackened tissue, the hardened gel cracking apart.

    She was dying.

    And when the pillar¡¯s life finally flickered out, so would her beautiful dream.

    Simon clenched his fists.

    "There must be something I can do to save her."

    But how?

    Should he wake her up?

    But what if she couldn¡¯t handle reality? What if she did as Adam did¡ª

    What if she killed herself?

    What if she asked him to end it?

    Simon felt the weight of the question settle heavily on his chest.

    The world she knew was gone. What would she wake up to except an endless void?

    He forced the thought aside.

    Once he reached Theta¡¯s main area, he would have time to find a solution.

    "Come on, Jerry." Simon¡¯s voice was quiet but firm.

    The tiny submarine hummed beside him, Jerry¡¯s silhouette barely visible through the glass dome.

    Simon¡¯s nano-ceramic blade slid out, the edge gleaming in the dim light.

    Ready.

    If anything tried to attack them, he wouldn¡¯t hesitate.

    <hr>

    They moved carefully through the winding, suffocating tunnels, the walls pressing in like an open wound.

    And all around them¡ª

    More bodies.

    More dreaming souls, fused into the walls, their forms half-consumed by the pulsating mass of flesh and hardened structure gel.

    Some were fused only at the torso.

    Others¡ª

    Simon could barely make out their faces, the remnants of a hand, a leg, a shoulder, consumed by the growth that would never let them go.

    Ten.

    And there would be more.

    If his memory was correct, there were others upstairs, in the main area.

    Were they still alive?

    He didn¡¯t know.

    But he would make sure to check.

    Simon retraced his steps from the first time he had been here.

    Some portions of the station were pitch black.

    Others were covered in layers of segmented structure gel, twisted into something disturbingly reminiscent of the Solipsist hive.

    Finally, they reached a workstation.

    The screens were shattered, their glow long dead.

    But Simon didn¡¯t need them.

    He placed his hand on the console, letting the structure gel interface with him.

    A wave of  data surged through his mind.

    "The lights are fried. The cameras that still work aren¡¯t picking up anything."

    Simon exhaled.

    If there was something lurking nearby, he had no way of seeing it.

    Not until his sensors picked it up directly.

    They moved forward, carefully, every footstep echoing in the suffocating silence.

    <hr>

    At last¡ª

    They reached the shuttle station.

    Both ends of the tunnel were blocked.

    Massive walls of solidified structure gel sealed the pathways shut.

    Even if Simon willed it to move, he doubted this was the only blockage.

    His eyes drifted to the yellow shuttle before them, sleek and bullet-shaped.

    Inside¡ª

    Under the flickering red emergency lights¡ª

    Another body.

    Simon stepped forward, peering through the cracked window, his breath shallow as the dim emergency lights flickered overhead. The dull glow cast long, jagged shadows across the ruined interior, stretching like skeletal fingers over the walls.

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    And then he saw her.

    Fused into the shuttle¡¯s back wall, her body had become one with the pulsating flesh. Her skin¡ªgray, papery-thin, stretched taut over her fragile frame¡ªbarely clung to her bones. Veins, blackened and sluggish, snaked beneath the surface, barely pulsing.

    And then¡ª

    A breath.

    Ragged. Shallow. Weak.

    She was still alive.

    Her lips trembled, barely parting. Her chest barely rose, the effort a struggle, a dying machine clinging to its last flicker of function. Then, from deep within her throat¡ª

    A sound.

    A whisper. A wheeze. A breath rattling through the rawness of a withered lung.

    And suddenly¡ªhe felt it.

    Her dream.

    A warm summer evening. Soft laughter. A gentle breeze rolling over the shoreline. She was sitting across from a man¡ªBrandon Wan. Her lover. They were together, smiling, lost in the warmth of each other''s presence. The clink of glasses, the murmur of easy conversation. Happiness.

    She was still there.

    Trapped in a world that no longer existed.

    Simon stared. His fingers twitched at his sides.

    Despite everything¡ªher withered frame, her unnatural fusion with the walls¡ªhe knew her.

    Alice Koster.

    Another lost soul.

    Trapped between life and oblivion.

    A bitter weight settled in his chest as his gaze drifted forward. Beyond Alice, the open elevator doors loomed.

    They had been forced open. The metal was bent outward, warped and twisted like something had forced its way through.

    <hr>

    Simon stood before the ruins of the elevator, its twisted metal remains embedded deep in the floor, a silent testament to his past struggles.

    He had used that elevator to descend to this level, only for it to malfunction, leaving him trapped between floors.

    The maintenance ladder had been his only way down. The broken step¡ªa moment of hesitation, the sudden plunge into darkness.

    The impact.

    The pain.

    He had crawled out of the elevator shaft, broken, dazed¡ª

    Only to be caught.

    The blind monster, sensing his movement, had dragged him away, pinning him to a flesh-covered pillar like a grotesque offering to the WAU.

    Now, standing here again, he turned his head toward that very pillar, a monument to his suffering.

    Not this time.

    Simon moved forward, approaching a door to his right.

    It was locked, its panel dark and unresponsive.

    But not for long.

    He placed his hand on the panel, his fingers pressing against the cold, lifeless metal.

    The solidified structure gel nearby twitched, then slithered across the surface like living ink, creeping into the dead circuits.

    A faint spark.

    The panel flickered to life.

    Then, with a soft chime, the door slid open, revealing a stairwell spiraling upward.

    A path leading to the upper level.

    Simon reached down, lifting Jerry¡¯s submarine, positioning it against his back.

    With a subtle hum, the magnets at the bottom of the drone activated, locking it securely in place.

    The weight settled against him.

    A presence. A reminder he wasn¡¯t entirely alone.

    Simon stepped forward, his boots echoing against the metal steps.

    As he ascended, the fiber-optic filaments from the back of his helmet uncoiled, extending outward like ghostly tendrils, scanning for any anomalies lurking in the shadows.

    When he reached the end of the stairwell, Simon pressed the panel beside the door. The mechanism hissed softly, and with a sluggish whine, the door slid open. He stepped through, pausing as his eyes darted left and right.

    The hallway was empty.

    Silent.

    The kind of silence that felt oppressive, that made his footsteps seem too loud in the vast emptiness.

    He moved forward, peering through the glass window into the management room. The space was shaped like a boomerang. Some of the computers lay shadowed in darkness, their monitors long dead. A printer, its feed long exhausted, had vomited paper across the floor¡ªsheets curled at the edges, covered in faded ink. A single monitor hung from the ceiling, suspended by a tangle of wires like a gutted carcass.

    Simon¡¯s gaze locked onto the corpse in the chair.

    The body sat slumped forward, its head sunken to its chest. Flesh had begun to rot, hollowing out the sockets where eyes had once been. The throat¡ª

    Slit. A deep, brutal gash, a final wound that had drained life from the body long ago. The blood had dried, blackened and cracked with time, a stark contrast against the pale skin. At the corpse¡¯s feet lay a kitchen knife, dulled with age, its once-sharp edge crusted with remnants of its grisly work.

    And then¡ªhis eyes caught something else.

    A pink rubber band wrapped around the left wrist. A tiny, innocent thing. The kind given to newborns at birth.

    A lump formed in Simon¡¯s throat.

    He knew the man.

    Brandon Wan.

    A Chinese engineer. A Wrangler stationed at Delta. A man who had worked tirelessly within PATHOS-II, who had once spoken of things he would never see again. A man Simon had broken.

    The memories clawed at him. He and Catherine had needed the security code to release the DUNBAT. And they had used Brandon¡¯s brain scane, forced him into a digital purgatory, again and again, wringing him dry for the information they needed. He had watched the man panic, beg, scream¡ªand then, the moment he was no longer useful, Catherine had shut him down.

    In a way, she had done the right thing. She had ended his suffering.

    But it still made Simon sick.

    Disgusted with himself.

    He forced himself to look away. His fists clenched at his sides, fingers trembling. But there was nothing left to do. Nothing he could change.

    He turned left, walking down the hall. He stepped into a vast, hexagonal chamber. Machines loomed around him¡ªsome towering, others squat and compact.

    The quiet hum of dormant technology buzzed faintly in the background, filling the space with an eerie sense of life.

    His gaze flickered to a cuboid device resting on one of the tables. The size of a car engine. But only for a moment. It wasn¡¯t his concern right now.

    Simon reached behind him, releasing the drone from his back and setting it down gently on the floor.

    ¡°Jerry, you¡¯re gonna wait here while I fix the cameras around,¡± he muttered.

    The rat''s whiskers twitched and he offered a small nod.

    Simon straightened, taking a deep breath. There was work to do.

    Without another word, he turned and stepped out of the laboratory, leaving Jerry behind as he ventured deeper into the station¡¯s decayed heart.

    First, Simon walked into the management room, his steps echoing in the dimly lit space. He moved toward the workstation, pressing a few keys as the system flickered to life. The screen¡¯s glow illuminated the darkened room, casting shifting shadows against the walls. With a few more commands, he restored power to the station¡¯s main floor, activating the overhead lights.

    The monsters he had encountered here were blind. He knew that. Light wouldn¡¯t alert them¡ªbut it would help the cameras track their movements. It gave him an advantage. A sliver of control in a place where so much had already been lost.

    He started his rounds, moving cautiously from room to room, checking for anything of use¡ªor anyone still trapped in this limbo between life and oblivion.

    <hr>

    The medical room was empty, save for overturned gurneys and shattered glass. Two incubators inside were covered in fleshy growths, their transparent covers warped and pulsating faintly.<hr>

    The examination room had a single bed, covered in cancerous, tumorous growth. This was where he had first encountered the blind monster¡ªformerly known as Terry Akers. He had ingested large amounts of structure gel, undergone a brief period of reconstruction, and plummeted into insanity. In his madness, he had torn out his own eyes. A rusted tray of surgical tools sat abandoned, some of them still stained with old fluids, left to rot in time¡¯s uncaring grasp.

    <hr>

    The storage room shelves toppled, crates broken open, their contents looted or spilled across the floor. But among the debris, Simon found something useful¡ªdried food for Jerry.

    <hr>

    The conference room was silent. Chairs scattered, a whiteboard still displaying a faded, desperate plan scrawled by hands that had long since perished. A projector flickered on repeat, casting grotesque images of flesh merging with cold metal. The distorted faces of the lost, their features barely recognizable, were fused into the walls¡ªflesh intertwined with electronics, veins pulsing sluggishly beneath a thin coat of structure gel.

    <hr>

    Payload design the same. Silent. A mausoleum to unfinished work.<hr>

    Three more.

    Three more souls left behind, locked in an endless sleep they would never wake from.

    One was slouched in a chair next to a dead computer, head tilted to the side as if they had simply dozed off.

    Nadine Masters.

    The name flashed in his mind like an afterthought, a remnant of someone who had once been more than just another body left to decay.

    The other two¡ª

    Their fates were worse.

    They had been fused into the wall of the storage room, their bodies twisted and contorted, structure gel gripping their flesh like a parasite that refused to let go. Their expressions were eerily peaceful¡ªunaware, or perhaps uncaring, of what had happened to them.

    Simon exhaled, the sound more mechanical than human.

    Simon turned back, toward the elevator, his gaze settling on the door beside it¡ªthe one leading downward.

    The metal had been ripped open. The edges curled outward, jagged and torn, as if something had forced its way through with raw, unrestrained strength.

    ¡°That¡¯s how that motherfucker got me,¡± Simon murmured, his voice flat, edged with bitter amusement.

    Without hesitation, the welding tool popped from the inside of his forearm. Sparks flew as he sealed the door shut, the metal hissing and fusing under the heat.

    One less way down.

    There was still another door left open, the one across the management room¡ªbut for now, it was enough. He would deal with the rest later.

    Simon returned to the laboratory, stepping inside to find Jerry nestled in his tiny submarine, nibbling at the biscuit Simon had left for him. The little rodent twitched his whiskers, glancing up as if acknowledging Simon¡¯s return before continuing his feast.

    He turned his attention to the lab itself, fixing the doors first, reinforcing them. He needed to secure this place. If this was going to be his workspace¡ªhe needed it locked down.

    There were still the air hatches.

    He¡¯d take care of those soon enough.

    His gaze drifted to the 3D printer.

    For a moment, something flickered in him. A sensation. The shadow of a smirk.

    If I still had a face, I¡¯d be grinning right now.

    <b></b>

 [15]

    Simon slotted the last piece into the A95.

    With a soft click, the final component settled into place. He closed the frame and took a step back, sending a signal through his neural link.

    From the sides of the submersible, three sets of segmented spider-like legs emerged, unfolding with mechanical precision. He tested their movement, guiding them through a series of simple motions.

    Up. Down. Left. Right.

    Jump. Forward. Back.

    "They seem fine," Simon muttered, watching as the legs retracted smoothly back into the frame.

    The wheels he had previously installed had been a temporary solution¡ªhe simply hadn¡¯t possessed the necessary tools to craft and install proper legs at the time. But now, Jerry¡¯s sub was upgraded. More mobile. More adaptable.

    And there were more features he had added, but those he had already tested.

    A nearby printer whirred, signaling the completion of another piece. Simon turned carefully, mindful of the cables snaking along the floor. One of them connected a rack of servers directly to the port at the back of his helmet, linking his mind to the station¡¯s systems.

    He picked up the new component and slotted it into the small circular frame of the robot he had been building. A final adjustment, a few more connections¡ªthen he sealed the cap, locking everything into place.

    The small robot booted up with a faint hum. Its legs extended from beneath its compact body, lifting it onto spindly mechanical limbs.

    It resembled a crab¡ªa simple surveillance drone with a single glowing red eye.

    Simon knelt, placing the small bot on the laboratory floor.

    Jump. Walk. Turn.

    The drone obeyed perfectly.

    Simon tested its pincers, ensuring they had enough force for minor interactions. Its legs were magnetic, allowing it to stick to metallic surfaces¡ªbut now, with these additional appendages, it could anchor itself to non-magnetic surfaces as well.

    ¡°All good,¡± Simon said, satisfied.

    He picked up the drone and moved toward the vent hatch near the wall. Carefully, he removed the reinforcement, opened the hatch, and set the little machine inside. Once it disappeared into the darkness, he sealed the vent shut again.

    A silent command sent the drone scuttling forward.

    <hr>

    A few hours later, Simon had sent out eleven more drones.

    Now, he had roughly the exact locations for every remaining monster and every dreamer still trapped in their endless slumber.

    With security taken care of, Simon finally turned his attention to the device resting on one of the tables. A metallic construct, roughly the size of a car engine.

    His optical sensors zoomed in, analyzing the object.

    "The ARC Prototype," he murmured, inspecting the Artificial Reality Capsule.

    His mind raced.

    Now that he was this¡ªa robot with a human mind¡ªcouldn¡¯t he just plug himself in directly?

    No copy necessary.

    No Simon left behind.

    The thought had burrowed deep into his mind the moment he had first laid eyes on the prototype.

    And the answer was yes.

    He could do it.

    He could modify the ARC, rework the systems. Instead of uploading a copied consciousness, he could link to the capsule through a direct neural connection.

    It would be his world.

    A paradise.

    He could even use limited AI constructs to populate it¡ªfake people. Sure, they¡¯d be basic at first, but with some modifications, they might even feel... real.

    Simon¡¯s gaze drifted to the small sleeping form of Jerry, curled up peacefully in the tiny bed Simon had made for him.

    He imagined it.

    A place where he could be safe. A world untouched by horror. A world where he wouldn¡¯t have to fight anymore.

    But then¡ª

    If he did this, the people still trapped in their endless sleep would die.

    The samples he had collected¡ªwasted.

    And in a way, he was running out of time. The samples would expire eventually, perhaps in months¡ªbut the seeds at Omicron? That was another issue entirely.

    He needed to reach Upsilon.

    Simon clenched his fists. His mechanical joints tensed.

    He couldn''t leave Jerry alone.

    ''Fuck this,'' Simon thought, his mind sparking with a renewed surge of defiance. ''I can make my own world. I have the brain. I have the means.''

    ''Simon, you can do it.''

    <hr>

    Simon placed the prototype in the scanner.

    The machine was a large, industrial grey box, its surface marred by scratches and time. A faint hum resonated through the metal as its interior¡ªlined with powerful and precise scanning instruments¡ªcame to life.

    A flurry of data flooded Simon¡¯s mind as the schematic of the ARC prototype rendered in his thoughts. The intricate web of circuits, memory pathways, and power relays all lay bare before him, revealing their inner workings as if they had always been a part of his own design.

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    But he had no use for it.

    Not for himself.

    He had chosen the real world.

    But for the dreamers, it could be their salvation.

    Simon¡¯s hands clenched. Despite all the knowledge stored in his mind¡ªengineering, programming, neural pathways¡ªthere was one thing he lacked: medical expertise.

    He couldn¡¯t heal them. Not as they were.

    Their bodies had suffered irreparable damage from their long entrapment, their muscles wasted, their organs deteriorated. Many would require life support, extensive surgeries, and advanced treatments just to function again. Some of them...

    Some were too far gone¡ªtheir flesh twisted beyond recognition, their bodies fused into the walls of site, as if they had been consumed by the station itself.

    Maybe...

    Maybe their brains were the only parts left intact¡ªthe only thing that could be salvaged.

    His gaze flickered back to the prototype.

    If he couldn''t fix their bodies, he could at least give them a world where they were whole. A digital sanctuary where he could reach them, explain what had happened¡ªwhere they could choose whether they wanted to stay or fight for life in the real world.

    But before that could happen, there was a long road ahead.

    Simon needed medical knowledge¡ªunderstanding far beyond what was available in PATHOS-II¡¯s databanks. If he wanted to truly save them, he had to find the information somewhere else.

    And the only place left...

    was the surface.

    If anything still remained up there.

    If there was even anything left to salvage.

    If he found nothing¡ªif the surface had truly fallen into ruin¡ªthere was one last, desperate option.

    He could awaken the solidified structure gel, using it to halt the dreamers'' organic structures from decaying further. It wouldn¡¯t be a cure. But it would buy him time.

    For now, that was all he could do.

    Simon let out a slow breath and sat down on a nearby chair. His mechanical hands, still human in their movements despite their cold, artificial nature, rested on his knees. He stared at them, feeling the weight pressing on his shoulders¡ªthe impossible burden of being the last one left to make things right.

    And yet¡ª

    That burden kept him focused. It grounded him.

    A faint rustling stirred him from his thoughts.

    Jerry had woken up.

    The small rodent scampered over to Simon¡¯s side, climbing onto his leg before looking up at him with those dark, beady eyes.

    Simon smiled¡ªor he would have if he still had lips.

    Instead, he gently scratched Jerry¡¯s tiny head with a careful touch. The little creature let out a contented squeak, leaning into the warmth of his companion.

    <hr>

    The moment was cut short by an alert.

    Simon¡¯s sensors flared. A monster was crawling through the vent system, its twisted form scraping against the metal as it made its way toward them. It had likely been drawn by the hum of the machine¡ªthe scanner was still running, its faint vibrations reverberating through the structure.

    Simon turned sharply.

    ¡°Jerry, get in your submarine,¡± he ordered.

    The hatch at the front of the A95 slid open. Jerry, though groggy, twitched his whiskers in understanding. Simon carefully picked him up and placed him inside, sealing the hatch with a soft click.

    His gaze snapped upward¡ªto the vent on the ceiling.

    He moved quickly, grabbing the ladder he had assembled earlier and positioning it beneath the hatch. Reaching up, he unfastened the reinforcement, carefully removing the barrier. Once it was clear, he dragged everything out from beneath the opening.

    And then¡ª

    He crouched, his right arm shifting, the blade extending with a metallic whisper.

    And waited.

    His audio sensors sharpened, tuning in to the precise metallic creaks and groans as the creature slithered through the vent. The sound of flesh dragging against steel filled the air, wet and unnatural.

    Then, movement.

    A grotesque head emerged from the vent, its twisted face pushing through the opening. The creature slid forward, gravity pulling it down. It fell to the floor with a sickening thud, its grotesque mass landing in a heap.

    Slowly, it stood.

    Simon¡¯s optics analyzed it instantly¡ª

    Its upper body was bloated, distended with varicose veins bulging beneath the surface. Its arms were trapped, encased within its own swollen flesh, tubing and pustules riddling its mutated skin.

    Its head was permanently bent backward, a mutation forcing its face into an eternal, silent scream.

    It had no eyes, no means of sight¡ªonly its twisted, atrophied legs, barely able to support its grotesque frame.

    The creature barely took a step forward¡ª

    Before Simon moved.

    In a blur, he sliced through its leg.

    The thin limb severed instantly. The monster collapsed, crashing onto its back with a grotesque squelch.

    Simon jumped onto it, pinning it down.

    The creature convulsed, thrashing violently beneath him like a fish gasping out of water, struggling to dislodge him. It let out a strangled, gurgling sound¡ª

    Simon didn''t hesitate.

    He drove his blade straight into its skull¡ª

    But it didn¡¯t die.

    The creature continued to writhe, its body spasming, a grotesque mockery of survival.

    Simon narrowed his eyes. The brain wasn¡¯t its weak spot.

    A new approach.

    ¡°I guess this is an opportunity to try the new installment,¡± Simon muttered.

    A silent command pulsed through his neural interface.

    His newly installed electromagnetic pulse device activated.

    It froze.

    Its convulsions ceased instantly, its muscles locking in place.

    Simon¡¯s gaze flickered.

    He was controlling it.

    Just like WAU did.

    The structure gel inside the creature¡¯s body was now an extension of himself¡ªa puppet with strings of electromagnetic waves. He could feel it, sense every mutated fiber in its monstrous body.

    The device was power-hungry¡ªhe could probably only control one more at most¡ªbut it was an invaluable tool.

    A final command.

    Simon ordered the structure gel to discharge its reserves.

    The creature twitched, then went still.

    Moments later, the gel inside its body solidified, locking it in a permanent death.

    Simon stood over the corpse, staring down at his work.

    A moment of silence.

    Then¡ª

    ¡°It worked. It fucking worked. Hell yeah!¡± Simon exclaimed, raising his fists in triumph.

    <hr>

    Another alert¡ªthis time from one of the cameras.

    Simon¡¯s optics flared as the feed flickered to life.

    His systems stalled for a moment. His processors refused to believe what he was seeing.

    ¡°Holy shit... it¡¯s still alive.¡±

    His gaze snapped forward, beyond the walls of the lab. The reinforced door groaned under the impact of something powerful, metal bending and warping as a monstrous force pounded against it.

    Then¡ªthe heavy machinery he had placed to block the entrance¡ª

    It lurched forward.

    Simon took a step back.

    And then, from behind the twisted steel¡ªit came.

    <hr>

    The thing that emerged from the shadows was grotesquely similar to the one he had killed¡ª

    Just bigger.

    And far worse.

    A towering husk of ruined flesh, its body was highly disfigured and eyeless. And yet¡ªit still resembled a man.

    It had arms, hands, a recognizable face¡ª

    But his eye sockets were hollow. His nose and mouth had long since shriveled away, leaving only a half-formed semblance of a human being.

    His body was encrusted in massive, bulbous tumors, cystic growths sprawling across his form like polycystic kidneys turned inside out. Where flesh remained visible, it was discolored and leathery, stretched too tight over a twisted, deformed frame.

    A grotesque third arm and an extra foot jutted from his abdomen, unnatural protrusions of malformed muscle and bone.

    But the worst part¡ªthe thing that sent a shiver through even Simon¡¯s mechanical shell¡ª

    Was the gash.

    A massive wound split Akers from head to torso, a deep, sickening cleave that made him look bisected down the middle.

    ''Had Nadine Masters done this? Had she tried to end him?''

    His limbs were horribly twisted, deformed beyond recognition, and yet¡ª

    Despite his horrific emaciation, Akers was powerful.

    Simon remembered the last time he had grabbed him. With just one hand, as if he were nothing more than a toy.

    Monstrously athletic.

    He could break through steel doors.

    He had outrun and overpowered Simon before. And though Simon was now far stronger, the fear still gripped his heart.

    And now¡ª

    He was here.

    Akers staggered forward, his grotesque body shuffling, shambling, as though listening for something.

    Simon remained deathly still.

    He could hear his own systems humming.

    The electromagnetic pulse device on his frame began to whine, building up a charge.

    Then¡ª

    He fired.

    A pulse rippled through the air.

    Akers froze.

    For a moment, the towering monster stood motionless, as if something deep inside him had fractured¡ª

    And then¡ª

    Simon heard it.

    A voice.

    Not from Akers'' mouth.

    From his mind.

    A shattered, broken whisper.

    "I need to save them... from this hell..."

    "I need to let them sleep..."

    "Lock them in their lucid dreams..."

    "I''ve seen them... I''ve seen them..."

 [16]

    Simon stared at Akers. Both of his blades extended, glinting in the dim light.

    He didn''t move, keeping his stance firm, his optical sensors analyzing every twitch, every unnatural shift in the monster¡¯s posture.

    A thought surfaced.

    How much of this thing can still think?

    Instead of attacking immediately, Simon decided to test something.

    If Akers lunged, his blades would tear through him like wet paper. But if he hesitated¡ª

    If there was still something left inside that mind...

    He decided to reach out.

    Through the electromagnetic field, Simon sent out a message, his  mind forming the pulse like a silent, digital whisper:

    ¡°Can you hear me?¡±

    Akers froze.

    The grotesque husk of a man tilted his eyeless head, as if searching for something unseen. His body twitched¡ª

    And then, in a voice gurgled, broken, and raw, he spoke.

    ¡°Warden?¡±

    Simon¡¯s processors spiked. That wasn¡¯t what he had expected.

    He thinks I¡¯m WAU?

    Another pulse.

    ¡°WAU is dead.¡±

    Akers¡¯ body shuddered violently. His posture changed, as though the words had physically struck him.

    Then¡ª

    A low whimpering noise, garbled and inhuman, escaped from the mangled cavity that used to be his throat.

    ¡°Warden... cannot be dead...¡± Akers mumbled, his voice twitching between rage, confusion, and despair. His head jerked to the side in a series of rapid, unnatural spasms, like a puppet with its strings tangled.

    Then¡ª

    ¡°Your voice¡­ its voice¡­ I hear it... instructions¡­ orders...¡±

    Simon remained silent, watching.

    Akers staggered back, his massive, mutated frame trembling as he grasped at his own bulging, tumor-ridden chest. Fingers twitched uncontrollably, as if grasping for something that wasn¡¯t there.

    His rotting mind unraveled before Simon¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°They sleep¡­ they dream... they are peaceful... I keep them peaceful... I keep them SAFE... I KEEP THEM SAFE!¡±

    His body lurched, his voice rising in hysteria, repeating the words over and over, his breath choking and stuttering like a corrupted audio file.

    Simon took a step forward. No response.

    Akers was lost in his own mind.

    Then¡ª

    With one final command, Simon sent out a signal through the electromagnetic field.

    The structure gel inside Akers'' body hardened instantly.

    His monstrous form seized up, locking in place like a statue.

    For a split second, Akers¡¯ expression changed¡ªnot rage, not horror¡ª

    But relief.

    His massive body fell backward, hitting the floor with a deafening, lifeless thud.

    Like a plank of wood, stiff and unmoving.

    Simon stared at the body, processing what had just happened.

    He had been nothing more than a husk, an echo of a man clinging to some fractured, desperate purpose.

    The dreamers.

    That was all he had left.

    And now¡ª

    Now he was truly gone.

    But his words made Simon think.

    What did it mean that WAU and I have the same voice?

    Simon sat in silence, his mechanical fingers twitching absently against his leg. The thought gnawed at him. It wasn¡¯t just what Akers had said¡ªit was the way he had reacted. As if Simon''s voice was something recognizable, something intrinsically tied to WAU.

    His thoughts turned inward, focusing on his systems. He initiated a diagnostic check, scanning his framework from the inside out. Everything appeared normal.

    Maybe it¡¯s just because I was using the same frequency WAU did?

    It was logical. When he had reached out to Akers, he had done so through an electromagnetic signal, the same kind WAU had used to communicate with its creations. But was that all?

    WAU is dead.

    Simon clenched his fists. He had ensured that. The marble¡ªthe core of WAU¡ªwas inside him, integrated into his cortex chip.

    And that was when it hit him.

    Something he hadn¡¯t fully realized before.

    It was synchronized, yes¡ªmerged into his systems, a part of him now.

    But just because it was integrated didn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t still doing something.

    A slow, uneasy sensation crept up his spine.

    His optical sensors flickered as his processors reeled through the implications.

    What if there was something hidden? Something WAU had buried inside before it was destroyed?

    His mind whirred. He needed to know.

    <hr>

    Simon sealed the doors again, reinforcing them with heavy machinery, pushing everything back into place. The scanner had completed its job, and the schematics for the prototype ARC were now downloaded into his memory.

    There was nothing more to do¡ª

    Except find the truth.

    He sat down, leaning against the cold metal wall, the dull hum of the station surrounding him. The cable from the server connected to the port in the back of his helmet, feeding him direct access to Theta¡¯s systems.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Simon exhaled, even though he no longer needed to breathe.

    He glanced toward the A95 submarine, where Jerry was watching him through the glass dome, his tiny paws resting against the transparent surface. The rat tilted his head.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back soon,¡± Simon murmured.

    With that, he closed his eyes¡ªor at least, the digital equivalent of it¡ªand let his mind plunge into the depths of his own systems.

    <hr>

    The space around him warped, shifting from reality to a world of numbers, pathways, and walls of raw data. He navigated through the architecture of his consciousness, tracing each neural pattern, ensuring nothing was out of place.

    Everything was there.

    His memories. His motor functions. The digitalized recreation of his mind.

    Everything seemed¡ª

    Then he saw it.

    A cluster of data tucked beside one of his neural pathways.

    A fragment of code that didn¡¯t belong.

    Simon¡¯s focus sharpened. He scanned it, inspecting the anomaly for long, tense minutes.

    And then¡ª

    It clicked.

    A compulsion. A directive buried deep within him.

    A single, absolute order.

    No matter what¡ªsurvive.

    Simon froze.

    It was WAU.

    Not WAU¡¯s intelligence, not some conscious remnant¡ªjust a programmed instinct, an unstoppable impulse woven into his being.

    And suddenly¡ª

    He remembered Tau.

    That moment when he had given up. When the crushing weight of his existence had collapsed in on him, suffocating him with the realization that there was nothing left. No future. No purpose. No escape.

    He had been ready to let his battery drain, to sit motionless in that pilot seat until the dim glow of his consciousness flickered out forever.

    But something had pushed him forward.

    A desperate, unrelenting force inside him had refused to let him die.

    At the time, he had thought it was just instinct, some shred of his humanity that refused to surrender.

    But now¡ª

    Now he knew better.

    <hr>

    He remembered something else from Tau.

    The moment he had discovered WAU¡¯s backup server.

    A massive, monolithic system, still intact, still running¡ªagainst all odds, despite the destruction that had consumed the rest of PATHOS-II.

    That should have been impossible.

    But more than that¡ªWAU had allowed him access.

    Not at first. The initial attempt had failed. The AI had locked him out.

    And yet¡ª

    The second time, it had let him in. No resistance.

    That made no sense.

    Unless¡ª

    Unless the backup had detected the cluster inside him.

    A key to a locked door.

    This compulsion inside him¡ªthis hidden directive¡ªmust have triggered something. Allowed him access to WAU¡¯s data, where before, it had rejected him outright.

    Without it, I would have probably still been there.

    A lifeless husk, staring blankly into the abyss, waiting for his systems to fade.

    But WAU had ensured that wouldn¡¯t happen.

    This was it.

    This was the reason.

    WAU¡¯s final command¡ª

    A failsafe.

    A last, lingering imprint, ensuring that he wouldn¡¯t stop fighting.

    Simon didn''t know if he should feel terrified¡ªor impressed.

    For a moment, he just stared at the raw code, watching the truth solidify in his mind.

    WAU had been smart.

    Even in death, it had ensured that he would never stop.

    <hr>

    Simon¡¯s optics flickered, and the data world around him collapsed, dissolving into the cold, mechanical stillness of reality.

    He was back.

    The room was exactly as he had left it.

    For six hours, he had been gone, diving through the depths of his own mind, tracing the remnants of WAU¡¯s final influence.

    He glanced around, his mechanical frame adjusting to movement once more.

    Jerry had fallen asleep inside his submarine, his tiny body curled up within the protective casing, breathing slow and steady.

    The doors were still sealed¡ªuntouched.

    The twelve drones he had deployed around the site were still operational, their data streams broadcasting back to him, sending out silent pings through the dead halls of the station.

    Simon¡¯s shoulders relaxed.

    WAU was gone.

    But its legacy remained¡ªwoven into his very being.

    Simon walked toward Jerry.

    The rat, sensing movement, stirred from his sleep. His tiny limbs stretched, his mouth opening in a lazy yawn before his dark, beady eyes blinked up at Simon.

    ¡°Jerry, do you wanna come with me?¡± Simon asked, his voice low but steady. ¡°I¡¯m heading to the lower level.¡±

    Jerry twitched his whiskers, sniffing the air as if processing the words. Then, with a tiny, decisive nod, he answered.

    Simon smiled¡ªat least, mentally.

    He grabbed the A95 submarine, securing it against his back. The magnets locked into place, ensuring it wouldn¡¯t move as he walked. With Jerry now safely secured, he turned toward the exit.

    The door hissed open, and they stepped out of the laboratory, making their way downstairs. The silence of the station pressed in, broken only by the distant hum of machinery, the faint creaks of metal shifting under pressure.

    <hr>

    Their destination was clear¡ªthe nearest dreamer.

    Alice Koster.

    She was one of the worst cases.

    Her body was almost completely fused into the shuttle¡¯s back wall, her head engulfed in the grotesque, fleshy mass of structure gel and organic tendrils. There was almost nothing left of her face, just a faint outline buried beneath the tumor-like growths.

    But she was alive.

    Trapped in the illusion WAU had woven for her.

    Simon stepped forward and placed his hand against the pulsating mass.

    The structure gel in his palm slithered outward, connecting to the gel-infested wall, merging with it in a slow, fluid motion. A sudden surge ran through him, his vision warping as reality around him began to bend.

    <hr>

    The world shifted.

    The sterile, dimly lit interior of the shuttle was gone.

    Simon now stood in a park.

    The air was warm, filled with the scent of flowers in bloom. A gentle breeze ruffled through the vibrant green grass, the leaves of small, delicate trees swaying under the golden sunlight. Birds chirped softly in the distance, their songs blending with the distant laughter of people.

    The sky was blue, perfect and cloudless.

    It felt too real.

    Simon glanced down at his own hands.

    They weren¡¯t metal.

    They were flesh and bone.

    His human self.

    His heart should have been pounding, but there was no heartbeat to feel. Just the eerie calmness that came with existing in a space that wasn¡¯t truly real.

    And then he saw her.

    Alice.

    She sat on a wooden bench, leaning against someone¡ª

    Brandon Wan.

    Her husband.

    They were laughing, her head resting against his shoulder, a tender smile on her lips. She was beautiful, radiant, her eyes full of warmth. In her arms, she held a baby, gently cradling the small bundle in her embrace.

    A perfect, peaceful life.

    Simon took a step forward.

    Then another.

    He walked closer¡­ and closer.

    But no matter how close he got, they didn¡¯t seem to notice him.

    He was a ghost in her world.

    She¡¯s too deep in the dream¡­ Simon realized. She doesn¡¯t see me.

    He tried again, this time raising his hand, reaching out¡ª

    And then, he touched her shoulder.

    Alice froze.

    Her body went rigid, the laughter cut off mid-breath.

    Slowly, unnaturally, she turned her head toward him, her eyes locking onto his.

    Her expression twisted into confusion, uncertainty, unease.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± she asked, her voice wavering, puzzled, as if she was just now realizing something was wrong.

    Simon walked forward, careful not to disturb the fragile illusion around him. He could still hear the distant chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, the way the sunlight cast warm golden hues over the perfect world.

    Alice''s eyes remained locked on him, wary, as if sensing something was off but not yet able to fully grasp why.

    Simon forced a casual smile, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible.

    ¡°Hello,¡± he said gently. ¡°My name is Simon. I¡¯m a reporter for a small online blog focused on underwater structures. Sorry for startling you.¡± He hesitated just the right amount before adding, ¡°By any chance, do you work at an underwater research complex called PATHOS-II?¡±

    Alice blinked, her brows furrowing slightly. The question made her pause, her fingers tensing around the baby in her arms.

    But then, the dream smoothed over the disruption, pulling her back into its calm embrace.

    She offered a small nod. ¡°I¡¯m a Payload Manager at PATHOS-II.¡±

    Simon nodded as if writing mental notes. ¡°And you?¡± he asked, turning to Brandon.

    The man smiled, shifting slightly to gently adjust the baby in Alice¡¯s arms. His gaze softened as he looked at them.

    ¡°I¡¯m an engineer¡ªa Wrangler. Name¡¯s Brandon,¡± he said, offering his hand as if this were nothing more than a normal encounter.

    Simon shook it, the sensation eerily real despite knowing it wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°This is Alice,¡± Brandon continued, his eyes moving back to his wife. Then, with a tenderness that felt so heartbreakingly human, he glanced down at the infant nestled against Alice¡¯s chest.

    ¡°Her name is Tina.¡±

    Alice let out a gentle chuckle, brushing a soft curl from the baby¡¯s face. ¡°She just turned four months old last week.¡±

    Simon¡¯s stomach twisted.

    He knew that wasn¡¯t true.

    Tina had been stillborn. The baby had never lived, yet here she was, smiling in Alice¡¯s arms, perfectly crafted by her dream.

    The dream was strong, strong enough to rewrite the worst memories, to reshape grief into something beautiful.

    But that wasn¡¯t real.

    Simon kept his expression neutral, his mind racing. How deep did this dream go? How strong was the illusion, stopping her from realizing the truth?

    He needed to push further.

    To test the limits of the illusion.

    To see how much Alice remembered about reality.

    <hr>

    ¡°So,¡± Simon continued, keeping his tone light, ¡°what¡¯s it like working at PATHOS-II? I¡¯ve always been curious about those deep-sea research facilities.¡±

    Alice tilted her head slightly, as if processing the question.

    For a fraction of a second, Simon noticed a flicker of hesitation, a fracture in the perfect ease of her expression.

    But then, the dream compensated, and she smiled.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ nice,¡± she said, but there was something off in her voice¡ªas though the words were being fed to her, as though she wasn¡¯t quite sure.

    She glanced at Brandon, as if to confirm something, and he simply nodded in agreement.

    ¡°The ocean can be¡­ overwhelming sometimes,¡± Brandon added, ¡°but we do good work. And it¡¯s safe.¡±

    Safe.

    Simon bit the inside of his cheek. The word felt wrong coming from a man who had cut his own throat in the real world.

    He decided to push further.

    ¡°Do you guys ever get¡­ visitors?¡± he asked casually.

    Alice frowned slightly, her fingers gripping the baby just a little tighter.

    ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°We don¡¯t get visitors. PATHOS-II isn¡¯t open to the public.¡±

    Simon hummed as if considering that. ¡°That makes sense. With how deep you guys are, I imagine it would be pretty tough getting up and down. How do you even¡ª¡± He stopped, as if catching himself. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m rambling. Do you ever go up to the surface?¡±

    Alice froze.

    The moment stretched.

    The wind stilled.

    The birds that had been singing in the distance fell silent.

 [17]

    Alice¡¯s breathing hitched, her eyes shifting to the side, as if something was pressing against her subconscious, something that shouldn¡¯t be there.

    Brandon reached for her hand. ¡°Alice?¡± he asked, his voice suddenly concerned.

    She blinked rapidly, as if recalibrating. Then, her grip softened, and the world seemed to exhale with her.

    ¡°Oh,¡± she murmured, as if realizing something she had simply¡­ forgotten. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t think so?¡±

    Brandon frowned. ¡°Of course not. Why would we?¡±

    Simon narrowed his eyes.

    The dream was resisting.

    It was keeping her locked in.

    Alice¡¯s mind wasn¡¯t allowed to remember the truth. Every time she got close, the illusion patched itself, pulling her back into false security.

    Simon needed to break it.

    ¡°I heard that the facility is housing an AI and its job is to keep the station running,¡± Simon said, watching their expressions carefully.

    Brandon nodded absentmindedly. ¡°That¡¯s right. WAU handles most of the operations.¡±

    ¡°Has it ever shown¡­ unusual behavior?¡± Simon asked.

    The fa?ade cracked.

    Alice¡¯s eyes darkened, a brief flicker of unease washing over her.

    ¡°There were rumors¡­¡± she admitted slowly, as if the words were being forced from a part of her mind she wasn¡¯t supposed to access. ¡°Strange reports. But nothing serious.¡±

    Simon pressed on. ¡°There are also rumors about a technology that allows human minds to be transferred into machines. The early tests used aquatic robots.¡±

    More cracks.

    Alice¡¯s breathing became shallow. The world around them dimmed, as though the dream itself was losing stability.

    Simon decided to take the final leap.

    "This is all a dream, Alice. Wake up," Simon said firmly, grabbing her by the shoulders, his voice carrying the weight of unbearable truth.

    Alice''s eyes widened, pupils dilating as something deep within her mind fractured. Her entire body began to tremble violently, and her breathing became ragged, gasping as though she were drowning.

    "No¡­ no, that can''t¡­ it¡¯s not¡­" she stammered, shaking her head desperately, her words dissolving into incoherent murmurs. Her hands clawed at Simon¡¯s grip, nails scraping uselessly against his flesh.

    The sky above darkened, a sudden, oppressive shadow descending over the idyllic park. The vibrant grass withered instantly, turning to brittle dust beneath their feet. The laughter, warmth, and light drained away, replaced by a suffocating chill and eerie silence.

    "Please¡­ please¡­ not again," Alice sobbed, her voice cracking as if pleading to some unseen force.

    Simon turned sharply as Brandon let out a strangled, guttural cry. Structure gel erupted from every orifice in his malformed face, pouring out in viscous black streams, choking him. His body twisted grotesquely, bones cracking audibly as his limbs bent at impossible angles, transforming him into a nightmarish distortion of humanity.

    Simon¡¯s gaze fell upon the bundle in Alice¡¯s trembling arms. There was no baby. Instead, there was only a grotesque lump of solidified structure gel, twisted and malformed. It fell heavily to her knees, and Alice stared down at it, horror contorting her features.

    "Alice¡­ run," Brandon¡¯s distorted voice emerged in a gurgling torrent of black fluid, barely recognizable as human.

    Her agonized screams split the suffocating darkness, echoing through the corrupted landscape as she collapsed, clutching her head desperately. The unbearable weight of reality shattered her consciousness, plunging her mind into oblivion.

    Simon recoiled as grotesque figures emerged, writhing masses of pulsating flesh and twisted limbs crawling toward them, their silent screams frozen upon their distorted faces. A thick, choking stench of decay and madness saturated the air.

    Structure gel oozed from Alice¡¯s pores, enveloping her in a viscous, writhing cocoon until her screams were swallowed, leaving only a chilling silence.

    Simon stood frozen, caught in the grotesque aftermath of his own actions, watching helplessly as reality warped once again. The park dissolved, replaced by a forest of withered, skeletal trees. Their gnarled branches clawed skyward, reaching desperately toward a bleak, ashen sky.

    "Simon," whispered a voice, soft yet terrifyingly familiar.

    Turning sharply, Simon froze in horror.

    Beside a deep, rectangular pit stood a woman clad in a dark, flowing dress. Her hands rested gently upon her abdomen, framed by cascading brown hair. Simon¡¯s heart stopped.

    "Ashley," he murmured in disbelief.

    The woman stepped forward, revealing a face swarming with thick, wriggling white maggots, pulsing grotesquely as they burrowed through rotting flesh. "Come closer, Simon," she beckoned softly.

    Reluctantly, compelled by forces beyond his control, Simon moved toward the pit, peering cautiously into its infinite void. From its depths, something emerged¡ªa grotesque, mutilated reflection of himself, impaled by dark tubes oozing viscous black gel from every orifice.

    The corrupted double lunged, forcing Simon to the ground, violently wrenching open his jaw and vomiting torrents of thick, suffocating gel down his throat. He struggled, choking as the darkness consumed him from within.

    Reality twisted again. He was plunged deep beneath the ocean, standing amidst oppressive darkness. His mutated self moved aside, revealing Catherine¡¯s grotesque, smiling visage. Dark tendrils extended from her forehead, embedding themselves deeply into the corrupted Simon.

    "You lost the coin toss," she whispered, erupting into manic giggling that echoed through the abyss.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Gel flooded Simon¡¯s lungs, drowning him from the inside.

    Suddenly, the torment ceased. He was back in the shuttle, Alice¡¯s lifeless form still before him, but Jerry¡¯s submersible was missing from his back.

    Staggering from the shuttle, his legs heavy and weak, Simon felt an unnatural, painful weight dragging him down. He glimpsed his reflection in a shattered window, horror seizing him. His face was distorted into a grotesque perpetual scream, dark gel tendrils writhing from open wounds, and tumorous growths erupted across his decaying flesh.

    His scream shattered the eerie silence, reverberating through the empty corridors¡ªa scream not of a man, but of something monstrous and irrevocably broken.

    Simon screamed, his voice echoing raw and fractured through the shuttle as he violently lurched backward. The structure gel snapped like living tendrils, tearing away from the fleshy mass with a sickening, wet sound.

    His visual sensors flickered wildly, struggling to recalibrate. Panic surged through his systems, a torrent of digital signals scrambling to regain stability. For a harrowing moment, he didn''t know if he was truly awake or still trapped within that nightmarish realm.

    He stood trembling, Jerry¡¯s submersible secure on his back. A quick system check revealed he had been lost in that monstrous illusion for over an hour. His hands shook uncontrollably, residual fear rippling through his artificial body.

    "Fuck this shit!" Simon shouted, the words distorted and desperate. He sprinted from the shuttle, stumbling in his urgency to escape, each step heavy and disoriented. Reaching the main floor, he collapsed against the cold, unforgiving metal wall, sliding down until he hit the floor with a loud thud.

    He clutched his head, the memories vivid and relentless, assaulting him repeatedly. His mechanical frame shuddered as soft, broken sobs escaped from his diffuser, his very human agony bleeding through the mechanical facade.

    Simon rocked gently, consumed by the horror of what he''d experienced. The nightmare was etched into his consciousness, each horrifying detail replaying itself mercilessly, a relentless reminder of how fragile his grasp on reality had become.

    He sat there, isolated in the suffocating silence, struggling to regain control, to push away the haunting images that threatened to consume him once again.

    After an hour, Simon forced himself to stand, every movement causing waves of nausea to ripple through his digital systems. He staggered toward the laboratory, his limbs heavy, unsteady, each step a struggle as his mind continued to replay the tormenting visions.

    Ashley''s soft whispers lingered just behind him, cruel echoes of his past. Catherine''s twisted laughter resonated in his mind, her mocking grin etched into his consciousness. The overwhelming memory surged, forcing Simon to double over, violently retching despite the lack of any physical stomach. The sensation felt painfully real, a cruel trick of his mind.

    "Jerry, I feel like shit," Simon muttered, leaning against the cold laboratory wall, the weight of his despair pressing heavily upon him. Jerry, standing before Simon, gazed quietly, his tiny eyes seeming to reflect genuine concern.

    "This was probably the worst decision I''ve ever made," Simon whispered bitterly, the words laced with a depth of anguish he could barely articulate.

    "You know," he began softly, his voice trembling, "I still blame myself for Ashley¡¯s death, even though I know¡ªlogically, rationally¡ªit wasn''t my fault."

    The memory surged vividly, inescapably real. Ashley sitting in the passenger seat, smiling at him, unaware of the impending tragedy. At the intersection of Bloor Street and Spadina Road, the crushing impact of the SUV striking their vehicle. He could still feel the sickening jolt, hear the crunching metal, the shattered glass.

    "That fucking bitch," he spat bitterly, venom seeping through his distorted voice. "If she''d just paid attention to her kids, Ashley would have survived." He paused, anguish tearing at his artificial soul. "Maybe if I''d chosen another route... if I''d driven just a bit faster or slower¡­ she''d still be alive."

    The agony intensified, his sobs echoing quietly through the empty room. "I can still see her eyes, Jerry," Simon continued, his voice breaking, raw with torment. "The way she looked at me as she choked on her own blood¡ªhelpless, desperate, pleading. And I just sat there, watching her die, unable to do anything."

    His voice cracked completely, anguish overpowering him. "Then, a few months later, I died too. And maybe¡­ maybe I deserved this. Maybe being condemned to rot at the bottom of the ocean is exactly what I deserve for killing Ashley."

    Simon slumped to the floor, consumed by grief and guilt, trapped in an endless cycle of torment that refused to release him.

    Simon¡¯s fist smashed against the wall, the metal denting under the force of his rage.

    "Fuck," he spat, voice trembling with fury.

    His gaze shifted toward the humming servers. Lights blinked across their surfaces, a digital heartbeat pulsing in silence. A tangle of cables sprawled beneath them like veins feeding the core of a monstrous machine.

    "I''m tired of feeling," he muttered.

    He stepped forward, hand reaching toward the cable he had once used to connect to the network. If he plugged himself in again¡ªjust a few alterations to his neural mapping¡ªand he could silence the torment forever. Strip away the guilt, the grief, the pain. He would no longer feel. No longer remember.

    Just function.

    His hand hovered above the port.

    Then it froze.

    Fingers clenched into a trembling fist.

    Simon collapsed to his knees.

    "I can''t do this," he whispered, broken.

    He knew the truth. If he took that final step, if he severed himself from the last flickering remnants of emotion, he would cease to be human in any meaningful sense. Just code pretending to be a man named Simon.

    His fists pounded the floor.

    "Come on, Simon. You survived all of this for nothing?"

    Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself to his feet. His optics flickered as they locked on Jerry. The rat stared back, unblinking, a steady presence in the chaos.

    "I think it''s time to leave this place," Simon said softly. His voice was frayed, but resolute.

    He turned and walked to the elevator shaft. Taking, along the way, a DNA sample from Brandon''s decayed body.

    The door creaked open with a groan, revealing the hollow vertical tunnel. He checked his systems¡ªenergy reserves full. Jerry¡¯s submersible was secured on his back.

    He activated the electromagnets in his hands and feet. 100% operational.

    Simon leaned forward, staring up into the darkness above. The elevator had long since been destroyed, the shaft a vertical corridor of rusted metal and shadow.

    His hand touched the wall. The magnets clamped tight.

    Carefully, methodically, he began his ascent.

    The climb was slow, each movement deliberate. He passed through a jagged opening where the doors had been forced outward, squeezing through with effort.

    Finally, he reached the living quarters of Site Theta.

    To his right were bathrooms, long-abandoned. Around the elevator shaft was a staircase, now choked with hardened structure gel. To his left, a corridor stretched ahead, lined with doors¡ªpersonal quarters once inhabited by the people who had lived and died here.

    The common area was sparse: a large television, three couches, a deck of cards scattered on the floor, and a set of dumbbells resting forgotten in a corner. A monument to a life long gone.

    He moved forward to the main door.

    It slid open with a hiss. The corridor beyond had been carved into solid stone, its floor white and metallic. Every few meters, reinforced metal rings surrounded the walls. Pipes snaked along the sides like exposed arteries.

    To his right, a storage room. To the left, a short hallway leading to the laboratory.

    The place where they had fooled Brandon.

    Where he and Catherine had tricked a man''s consciousness into surrendering a security cypher.

    Where the DUNBAT had once been.

    A medium-sized submersible vessel, built to withstand the deepest ocean pressures¡ªstrong enough for the abyss. Strong enough for Tau.

    But things had spiraled out of control.

    Simon remembered the moment clearly: the DUNBAT¡¯s systems coming online, only for it to be revealed that a rogue neurograph had hijacked the mainframe. The machine had gone berserk, cursing Catherine¡¯s name, smashing itself free and vanishing into the ocean depths.

    Simon shivered.

    ''I hope that thing isn¡¯t still out there,''

    He finally reached the entrance chamber¡ªa massive room dominated by two large gates.

    To the left, a sealed gate overwhelmed by pulsing structure gel and flesh crawling up from beneath.

    To the right, the exit.

    He approached the outer gate and sent the signal through the system. The door groaned and slowly peeled open, revealing a vast decompression chamber.

    Rust blanketed the walls. Algae grew in thick veins, and clusters of clams clung to every surface. Water leaked steadily from fractured seals.

    Simon summoned the twelve drones to his position. One by one, they pinged confirmation.

    Then one of them blinked red.

    Movement.

    Multiple entities approaching through the ventilation systems.

    Simon¡¯s gaze snapped upward.

    The vent panel above him shook violently, rattling against its bolts.

    His nano-ceramic blades snapped free from his forearms, gleaming in the dim light.

    "Come on then," he growled.

    The rattling intensified.

    And the nightmare wasn¡¯t over yet.

 [18]

    The vent above Simon exploded with a metallic shriek as the first Proxy dropped into the chamber. Its eyeless face was twisted in a permanent scream, thick pustules pulsating across its bloated torso. Tubes jutted from its skin like grotesque veins, and its swollen arms twitched within the fleshy prison of its mutated upper body.

    More followed, crashing to the floor in a sickening rhythm¡ªfifteen in total. Simon stood motionless, calculating.

    His nano-ceramic blades were already extended, glinting under the dim emergency lighting.

    ''Fifteen,'' he though.

    In a blur of motion, he dashed forward, cleaving the first Proxy cleanly in two.

    Another lunged. Simon ducked low, rolled across the slick floor, and rose into a seamless strike, driving his blade deep into the creature¡¯s distended abdomen. It convulsed and dropped, twitching violently as the structure gel inside began to congeal.

    A third approached from behind.

    Simon spun and slashed upward in a brutal arc, carving deep into the bloated upper body. Black gel sprayed across his plating.

    Then, the swarm descended.

    The chamber filled with a cacophony of wet, uneven footsteps and inhuman screeches. Simon let out a defiant roar and launched into the horde.

    His foot slammed into a Proxy¡¯s chest, hurling it backward into another. He spun, slicing through two more with surgical precision. Pustules burst like grotesque fireworks, coating the walls and floor in thick black ooze.

    One tackled him from the side, shrieking in a pitch that rattled his audio sensors.

    Simon grabbed the mass of flesh that was once its shoulder, twisted, and slammed it headfirst into the floor, the impact cracking both skull and concrete. Another swung at him with a malformed limb¡ªSimon blocked, then drove a crushing elbow into its deformed upper mass.

    He vaulted over one crawling toward him and drove both blades down through its hunched back, pinning it to the floor.

    Three more charged.

    Simon activated his electromagnetic pulse device. It hummed to life with a rising frequency, and he thrust his hand forward.

    The pulse detonated.

    Structure gel inside the Proxies spasmed and crackled. Two froze mid-lunge, their bodies locked in spasms. Simon surged forward and carved deep into the soft mass where their head was bent backward.

    The third, only dazed, recovered quickly and swung wildly.

    Simon ducked, slashed across its legs, and delivered a devastating kick to its chest, sending it crashing into a steel support beam.

    He issued a command.

    The second stunned Proxy stilled, then rose under Simon¡¯s control. His system synced with its corrupted neural cluster. The creature turned to him, obedient.

    "Hold them off," Simon commanded.

    The Proxy shrieked and hurled itself into the oncoming attackers.

    Simon charged after it.

    The last wave closed in. He ducked a swipe, drove a boot into one¡¯s chest, twisted, and plunged his elbow blade deep into another¡¯s torso. It gurgled as black gel erupted from the wound.

    Another lunged from behind.

    Simon spun, caught it by the dense upper flesh, slammed it into the ground, and severed it in one brutal motion.

    His hijacked Proxy was overwhelmed¡ªtorn apart by three attackers.

    Simon didn¡¯t hesitate.

    He activated his overdrive. Energy surged through his limbs, his strength amplified.

    With inhuman force, he grabbed two Proxies by their bloated torsos and smashed them together. Bone shattered, and gel exploded in every direction.

    The last Proxy staggered back, its grotesque head twitching.

    Simon raised his arm. A blade launched from his forearm, slicing through the air.

    It pierced the creature¡¯s center mass and pinned it to the far wall. It writhed once, then went still.

    Silence.

    Only the sound of Simon¡¯s steady, mechanical breathing and the faint ping of cooling metal remained.

    Fifteen mutilated abominations lay in ruin.

    Simon stood alone among the wreckage, blades retracting with a hiss.

    He walked to the last creature and retrieved his blade, sliding it back into its slot with a solid click.

    The drones crawled out from the broken vent hatch, one by one, their legs skittering softly across the floor. Simon crouched down, collecting them with care and precision, placing each into the storage unit on his back.

    He moved to a nearby panel, plugging in. Power surged into his systems, replenishing his reserves.

    Then, without a word, he turned and strode toward the decompression door, leaving the mangled corpses of the Proxies behind. The massive inner doors sealed with a heavy groan behind him. The chamber hissed as it began to flood, water rushing in to equalize the pressure. Bubbles danced around him like ghosts.

    The outer doors parted slowly, revealing the vast, cold darkness of the ocean.

    Simon stepped out.

    The path ahead was faintly illuminated by flickering lights affixed to metal poles, casting thin beams through the murky abyss. Around him, the ruins of decaying metal structures jutted from the seabed like the broken ribs of some long-dead leviathan. Antennas bent under their own rusted weight, conduits torn apart by pressure and time.

    To his right, he spotted a broken aquatic robot sprawled across the sand, barely intact. Its body was tangled with dark tendrils of structure gel.

    Robin.

    He froze, staring at the machine that held her.

    It contained the brain scan of Robin Bass, a woman who had taken her own life after uploading her consciousness. When he had first met her, she had been cheerful, convinced she was living in the paradise of the ARK. She spoke with hope, with laughter, unaware of her twisted metal prison.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Simon had told her nothing.

    He let her dream live.

    But in the end, he had shut her down.

    "Mercy," he whispered, voice distorted and hollow.

    That¡¯s what he had told himself.

    But the guilt never left.

    Inside Theta, he had wandered through her old living quarters. Found the dried blood on her sheets, the straight razor still lying in the sink. He saw the note she left, the one scrawled with shaky hands. She had believed in the ARK. Believed in something better.

    He looked away, pushing the memory aside.

    His mind was already fractured¡ªTheta had taken its toll.

    He moved forward, his footsteps muffled in the sand, until he reached the distant platform where the zeppelin still waited. Thick cables tethered it to the dock, swaying gently in the current.

    The zeppelin looked like a bloated, albino worm¡ªbulbous and swollen, its hull dented and peeling.

    Simon stepped onto the platform and placed his hand on the control panel. Lights flickered. The platform rose, shuddering to life, and slowly began to move.

    He cast one last look back at Site Theta.

    The massive facility stood like a fallen god, built into the side of a colossal stone wall. A rusted behemoth whose bowels stretched deep into the Earth.

    He was leaving it behind.

    But not forever.

    He would return.

    For the dreamers still trapped within.

    He closed his eyes as the zeppelin floated into the deep.

    The ocean swallowed Theta behind him.

    But the ghosts came with him.<hr>

    Not long after leaving the site, Simon¡¯s whisker sensors¡ªthose fine, sensitive filaments mounted at the back of his helmet¡ªpicked up movement.

    To his left.

    Something big was approaching.

    His optics darted toward the motion.

    A massive shadow was gliding through the murky deep, silent and deliberate.

    ¡°Jerry, hold tight,¡± Simon said, voice tight with urgency as he activated his propulsion jets.

    Before he could gain distance, a tremendous force slammed into the zeppelin platform. The impact rattled the entire structure, sending tremors through the cables and twisting metal like paper. Sparks scattered, flickering in the gloom.

    His sensors flared crimson.

    The silhouette was as large as the zeppelin¡ªthe size of a big car.

    ¡°That¡¯s the DUNBAT,¡± Simon whispered, fear creeping into his voice.

    The submersible¡ªonce a beacon of hope¡ªhad become a monster. Corrupted by a rogue neurograph, the DUNBAT had been transformed into a Mockingbird: a vessel of madness, and vengeance.

    The DUNBAT slammed into the zeppelin again, jagged arms tearing away massive chunks of the hull. Metal groaned and peeled like bark from a dying tree. The wreckage spiraled downward, the machine dragging it into the abyss like a predator devouring its prey.

    Simon launched himself from the platform just in time, his propulsion system flaring as he shot through the water.

    He didn¡¯t look back.

    He couldn¡¯t.

    If that thing catches me...

    His mind flashed to Jerry¡ªthe little rodent curled inside the submersible on his back. If anything happened to him... if Simon lost him too...

    His fists clenched. He pushed harder, cutting through the dark like a spear.

    Then came the sound.

    Screaming.

    Twisted. Warped. Drenched in fury.

    ¡°CATHERINE!¡± the voice bellowed, distorted and full of agony. ¡°You left me! You LIED! You made me THIS!¡±

    The DUNBAT.

    It had seen him.

    Simon¡¯s sensors shrieked warnings. The DUNBAT was closing in, relentless. A predator born of betrayal, grief, and rage.

    His right arm shifted, plates retracting to reveal the glowing coil of his repulsor cannon.

    His breathing slowed. He needed precision.

    The ocean roiled behind him as the DUNBAT surged forward, a hulking blur in the distance. Its searchlight cut through the dark like a hateful eye.

    Closer¡­

    Closer¡­

    Now.

    Simon triggered the electromagnetic pulse.

    A white-hot shockwave rippled outward, crackling through the water. The DUNBAT convulsed mid-charge, its lights sputtering as its systems stuttered.

    It wasn¡¯t enough to disable it¡ªtoo much structure gel¡ªbut it gave Simon the opening he needed.

    He fired the repulsor cannon.

    The blast struck hard, sending him rocketing away like a torpedo. The recoil jolted his systems, but he tumbled far beyond the creature¡¯s reach.

    Without hesitation, he activated his cloaking field.

    His form shimmered¡ªand vanished.

    Silence fell.

    The DUNBAT howled into the void, its corrupted rage echoing through the black, but its prey was gone. It thrashed, scanning, sensing¡ªblind.

    Simon floated still among the currents, invisible and silent.

    He touched the submersible on his back.

    Jerry was still there. Quiet. Safe.

    Simon gently placed a hand over the small dome of the submersible.

    "I got you," he whispered.

    And then, without a sound, he drifted onward, leaving the scream of the DUNBAT behind.<hr>

    Simon landed on the circular concrete platform with a soft thud, displacing a small cloud of sand beneath his feet. He rose slowly, his eyes scanning the surroundings with grim familiarity.

    He was at Delta now.

    Once a vital test site for PATHOS-II, Delta stood atop a guyot along the Mid-Atlantic Ridge¡ªnow a drowned monument to the past. Time and neglect had reduced it to rusting steel, cracked concrete, and silent, haunted machinery.

    To his right, something moved.

    A grotesque heap of flesh and structure gel twitched faintly in the dim light. At its center, the remains of a human body¡ªstill breathing, still alive in the most nightmarish sense.

    Its face had melted away into a featureless mask of flesh. No eyes. No mouth. Just a pulsating, veiny surface that shimmered faintly beneath the gel. It existed, barely, trapped in an organic prison that refused to let go.

    Simon turned away.

    He had seen enough.

    Farther ahead, fused to the base of a metal beam beneath the battered sign reading "Zeppelin Transport Theta," was another victim. This one, too, was alive¡ªbarely. Entombed in a writhing mass of flesh and structure gel, the its diving suit still mostly intact. A helmet clung to its head, though the visor had long since been overgrown by flesh, thick ridges curling over it like roots claiming abandoned stone.

    These were Akers¡¯ victims.

    People mutilated in his madness.

    He stepped into the main courtyard, the silence of the place pressing against him like a weight.

    To the left, the remains of the control room and assembly line stood silent. Robotic arms hung limply from overhead rails, corroded by salt and time. They looked like the limbs of skeletal giants, frozen mid-motion.

    Toward the edge of the guyot, half-buried beneath sand and rubble, he could just make out the fractured hull of the escape vessel. Scarred and likely useless¡ªcaused by Curie¡¯s explosion.

    To the right, a metal structure crowned with a shattered glass dome slumped inward, the ocean having long since claimed its interior. It stood like a cracked skull, hollow and dead.

    And then¡­ there was the room.

    Akers¡¯ sanctuary of madness.

    Simon¡¯s synthetic muscles tensed. The memory surfaced unbidden: the dried blood, the desperate, looping scrawl etched into the walls with trembling hands, and the two decayed eyes resting on the floor like offerings to something unspeakable.

    And this was the place where he had killed her.

    Imogen Reed.

    Or at least the K8 drone that carried her mind.

    He still didn¡¯t understand what he felt. The sorrow didn¡¯t belong to him entirely¡ªit was something that had bled into him from WAU, fragments of another self, echoes of someone else¡¯s pain. And yet, when he thought of her voice, her laugh, her presence...

    It felt real.

    Not quite love. Not quite guilt.

    But something.

    Nearby, the Bull UH3¡ªa bulky submersible drone¡ªglided through the water in slow, lazy arcs. Its lights blinked like sleepy eyes, and it mumbled softly to itself as it patrolled the area.

    Simon watched it drift.

    That machine housed the stolen brain scan of Javid Goya. Another soul unaware, trapped in steel and silence.

    And then, deeper beneath the ruins, something more.

    The underground complex.

    PATHOS-II¡¯s primary space gun capsule manufacturing center. A place long sealed. A place he hadn¡¯t been able to reach¡ªuntil now.

    The main entrance had once been sealed by layers of rust and pressure. But with the high-powered welder in his forearm, he could break through.

    If he wanted to survive this place¡­

    He had to go down there.

    I could swim to Lambda, Simon thought, but what if the DUNBAT finds me again?

    He could still hear its shrieking voice. Remember the tearing of metal. The rage.

    The Mockingbird submersible wasn¡¯t just dangerous.

    It was hunting him.

    Simon clenched his fists.

    Maybe there¡¯s something here¡ªsomething in the manufacturing complex that can help me fight back.

    I¡¯m done running.

    His thoughts sharpened. His processors aligned. A plan began to form.

    Delta wasn¡¯t just another waypoint.

    It was the staging ground for war.

    And Simon had every intention of winning.

    He walked toward the door.

    As he approached, his arm shifted. Plates unfolded with a soft mechanical hiss as the welder extended from his forearm like a second limb.

    He pressed the tool to the door¡¯s edge and began to cut, moving in slow arcs along the circular frame. Molten metal hissed and bubbled, steam rising into the water around him like phantom breath.

    Sparks burst in short flares as the seal gave way. Finally, with a metallic groan, the heavy door slid open¡ªjust enough for Simon to pull it free.

    A narrow depressurization chamber stood before him.

    Dark. Still. Silent.

    The control panel on the wall was miraculously intact, untouched by time or disaster.

    Simon stepped inside.

    And paused.

    He reached up and connected to the terminal.

    Instantly, the world expanded.

    Code flowed across his vision¡ªdata streams, access logs, residual memories etched into the digital architecture of the station.

 [19]

    Simon yanked his hand away from the terminal like he¡¯d touched a live wire. A jolt¡ªnot of electricity, but something deeper, colder¡ªrippled through his synthetic frame.

    Something had forcefully rejected him.

    He stared at the dark screen, confusion blooming into alarm. He tried to reconnect, but the panel remained lifeless, a void where information should be. It was as if something on the other end had simply... shut down. Disconnected.

    Simon flexed his fingers and reached for the structure gel embedded in his body, preparing to manually reactivate the system. But before he could even begin, the heavy door in front of him hissed, then groaned open with a reluctant, grinding sound.

    An elevator shaft lay beyond, cloaked in shadow.

    Simon stepped into the car, scanning the walls with caution. It was eerily still. He opened the hatch at the top and hoisted himself through, inspecting the old cables and mechanisms. Rust clung to the steel, but everything still seemed functional. He dropped back into the elevator and pressed the button to descend.

    With a mechanical whine, the elevator jolted to life and began to descend.

    Then it stopped.

    Suddenly. Violently. The lights flickered. The car shuddered.

    Simon opened the panel at the bottom of the elevator, crouched low, and reached into the opening. From his palm, a slender snake-like camera slithered downward.

    There it was¡ªclumps of hardened structure gel blocking the shaft below.

    Simon narrowed his eyes.

    He activated the electromagnets in his hands and feet. A soft hum pulsed through his limbs. Carefully, he exited the elevator and began his descent, crawling down the metal walls like an insect, the shaft echoing with distant groans and metallic creaks.

    At the bottom, he reached a partially opened door. It had been forced open¡ªthe frame bent, scratched, warped. Something had clawed its way through.

    Beyond it lay a locker room.

    Claustrophobic.

    Silent.

    Shadowed.

    The overhead emergency lights blinked erratically, casting strobe-like flashes across rusted lockers and cracked tile. The air buzzed with a low, oppressive hum, as though the walls themselves were vibrating with tension. Dust and mold clung to the corners. Blackened gel oozed from ceiling vents.

    Simon stepped inside.

    His blades extended. Every motion was calculated. Every footstep deliberate.

    His sensors flared.

    A shiver of static crept through his audio feed.

    Simon advanced, the tension in the room coiling around him like a noose.

    The door slammed shut behind him with a hiss that echoed through the silence like a gunshot.

    Simon froze.

    His gaze snapped to the metal.

    There, smeared across the inner surface of the door with  structure gel, were words.

    "I am Simon."

    He stared at it.

    The writing was uneven. Desperate. Like a child¡¯s scrawl carved in blood.

    "What the fuck...?" Simon whispered, the voice coming from his emitter faint and brittle.

    His sensors caught it¡ªan audio distortion in the far distance. Faint. Shifting. Like breathing laced with static. Indecipherable.

    He didn¡¯t wait.

    He activated his leg dampeners, softening his steps as he moved toward the open door ahead.

    A hallway stretched into the black.

    And then he saw them.

    Handprints. Hundreds of them.

    Smeared across the walls, the floor, the ceiling¡ªchaotic trails of palms all coated in the same wet gel. In some areas, the prints formed clusters, like someone had clawed at the same spot over and over again.

    And the words.

    Over and over.

    "I am Simon."

    He considered retreating. Even with the DUNBAT still out there. Anything seemed better than this descent into madness.

    But no. There had to be a terminal. A control node near the assembly mainframe. That was the plan.

    To the right¡ªsealed. Choked by dense structure gel.

    To the left¡ªan open path.

    He pulled up the internal schematics of Delta. The terminal should be just beyond the next intersection.

    Simon moved.

    Every step felt like a sin against the silence.

    He turned the corner.

    And froze.

    Something stood at the far end of the hallway.

    Still.

    Facing the wall.

    It twitched.

    Not in rhythm. Not like a machine. But like something broken. Like a puppet dangling from strings.

    And then¡ªslowly¡ªit turned.

    The face was a mess of metal and meat.

    The thing took a step forward.

    "I am Simon," it gurgled, voice bubbling through torn vocal hardware and wet gel, echoing down the hallway like a fractured memory given flesh.

    Simon took a step back. One. Two. Three.

    "I am Simon," the creature gurgled again, its voice bubbling with wet static.

    The hallway spun. The flickering lights stretched and warped around him as he staggered backward, disoriented. His back hit something unyielding¡ªthe wall of structure gel. A dead end.

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    Trapped.

    The creature advanced. Its frame twitched erratically, a grotesque fusion of metal and muscle, pulsing with dark veins of structure gel. One dripping hand reached out and seized Simon''s helmet.

    It pulled him in¡ªtoo close.

    "I want to die!" it shrieked, the words slicing through the silence like a blade, resonating through Simon¡¯s  core.

    His mind buckled.

    "I am Simon. I am Simon. Hell... This is hell. Ashley... Ashley... I¡¯m sorry," it whimpered, voice cracking, suddenly frail.

    It wrapped its arms around his head, trembling, desperate.

    Simon felt it¡ªsomething alien brushing against his mind. Thoughts. Pain. Fear. A storm of broken identity radiating through the contact. He could feel its terror leaking into him.

    He was losing himself.

    Then Jerry.

    The memory of the small rat curled in fear. That feeling pierced the fog. A tether. A spark.

    Simon snapped back.

    His blades sprang forth.

    With one swift strike, he drove them deep into the creature¡¯s chest. They sliced through the unstable flesh with sickening ease. Another brutal motion¡ªand he cleaved the creature open, splitting it from chest to skull.

    A wet, monstrous sound filled the hallway as it collapsed, spewing black blood and structure gel in a gruesome splash across the floor.

    Simon staggered, shaking, synthetic breath rasping.

    His gaze darted to the submersible on his back.

    Jerry was still there¡ªcurled up, quivering inside the glass dome. Terrified.

    Simon reached out and placed a hand gently against the dome.

    "It''s okay, buddy," he whispered. "It''s over."

    Jerry¡¯s fear had grounded him¡ªreminded him who he was.

    Simon crouched beside the corpse. His hands trembled as he examined the remains.

    There¡ªembedded deep within the shattered skull¡ªa cortex chip.

    He hesitated.

    Then connected.

    Flashes. Fragments.

    A woman laughing. Sunlight pouring through a kitchen window. Ashley¡¯s voice, distorted. Blood soaking his hands. Screams in the distance.

    His life¡ªbut not.

    The memories were wrong.

    Faces blurred or erased. Names missing. Moments out of sequence¡ªevents jumbled, like a puzzle smashed and forced together again.

    Love without clarity.

    Grief without origin.

    The emotional chaos made him nauseous. Even his synthetic systems recoiled.

    He ripped the connection loose.

    The chip clattered to the floor.

    Simon dropped to his knees.

    This thing¡­ had once been him.

    A version. A soul warped by darkness until it no longer knew what it was.

    His eyes drifted to his hands, stained with black gel and blood.

    "How many of me are there?" he whispered.

    No answer came.

    Only the echo of silence, thick with sorrow.

    He stood up slowly, his hand trembling faintly as he staggered forward.

    ''I need to find out what the hell is going on in this place,'' Simon thought, each step heavy with dread. One foot after the other, he forced himself down the hallway, the dim emergency lights casting his shadow like a specter against the walls.

    Finally, he reached the terminal and connected to it. His vision flooded with cascading data¡ªlogs, systems, corrupted files. The site had been shut down and abandoned long ago, but something¡ªor someone¡ªhad brought it back online.

    Probably WAU. It always was.

    Just as he started reading the last few entries, the connection snapped.

    His HUD glitched violently. The terminal blacked out.

    Pushed out. Again.

    Simon reached for the console, structure gel beginning to crawl down his arm, ready to force his way back in.

    He froze.

    A sound. Metal scraping against metal.

    His gaze slowly turned down the corridor.

    Red dots.

    Dozens of them.

    Motionless at first. Then moving.

    Small blinking lights embedded in mechanical husks¡ªeyes, maybe. Malfunctioning sensors. Or something worse.

    Whatever they were, they were blocking access to the main assembly line.

    Simon patted the submersible on his back.

    "Hold tight, Jerry," he whispered. "It¡¯s going to get ugly."

    The structure gel beneath his skin surged, solidifying across his frame like a second suit of armor. His body hummed with power, joints locking, internal systems optimizing for combat. His blades hissed from his forearms.

    Time slowed.

    Then the lights in the corridor sparked and died.

    They came crawling.

    Twisted robots, some nearly intact, others torn apart¡ªlimping, dragging themselves across the floor. Blackened arms scraped along the metal walls. Sparks rained from broken torsos. The gel pulsated across their forms, puppeteering them forward.

    They were infected.

    And they screamed with his voice.

    "Why are you hurting me?!"

    "Please¡ªstop! It hurts!"

    "I want to die!"

    Their voices echoed down the hallway like a chorus of pain¡ªhis own voice, shattered and looped, over and over.

    Simon charged.

    His blade cleaved through the first one, tearing it in half. Sparks erupted. Gel sprayed.

    But they didn¡¯t stop.

    One lunged from the side, claws scrabbling at his armor, shrieking with a mouth it didn¡¯t have.

    He crushed it beneath his heel, twisting and driving his blade through its core. Another grabbed his back, mechanical fingers prying at the casing of Jerry¡¯s pod.

    Simon roared, spinning, driving a blade into its midsection and flinging it into the wall.

    But they kept coming.

    A dozen voices. A hundred pleas.

    "I remember dying."

    "Why did you leave me in the dark?!"

    "You¡¯re the lucky one!"

    Simon¡¯s focus fractured with every blow. Not just because of their strength¡ªbut because of the guilt.

    Every machine he tore apart looked like a twisted reflection of himself¡ªhis eyes, his voice, his thoughts corrupted and repeated back at him like mockery.

    He activated an area EMP. Blue light exploded from his core, frying circuits. A half-dozen fell, twitching, sparks bursting from shattered shells.

    But more came.

    Had to finish this.

    Even if it meant killing himself again and again.

    He stepped over the twitching remains, his breathing ragged, armor dented and slick with structure gel.

    And still¡ªstill¡ªhe could hear their voices.

    Whispering.

    Crying.

    Begging.

    "Please... don¡¯t leave us alone."

    After clearing his way forward, Simon stood amid the carnage¡ªdozens of broken robots littered the corridor, sparks flickering like dying stars from fractured frames. Bits of metal, torn wires, and puddles of structure gel coated the floor like blood.

    He breathed, or simulated the motion, as he looked around.

    "Those were like the crazed robots I''ve encountered before... but why do they all have my brain scan?"

    The moment the question formed, the answer followed like a knife sliding into flesh.

    "WAU," he murmured. "It was trying to perfect its method of installing a brain scan into a functional robot. It¡¯s much easier when you use the same sample¡ªmy brain scan."

    He looked at the wreckage, the mangled echoes of himself, and felt a chill seep through the fibers of his synthetic muscles.

    "How many of me are lying around here... minds shattered, screaming in the dark?"

    He clenched his fists.

    He needed to find the source.

    He had to know who¡ªor what¡ªhad been pushing him out of the system.

    And maybe... maybe there was another Simon still intact. A sane one. Or at least, not another monster.

    Simon reached the main assembly line. The space was vast, stretching endlessly into the dark. Conveyor belts coated in dust snaked through the chamber. Robotic arms hung limp from the ceilings, some rusted, others frozen mid-motion like ancient statues. Giant 3D printers loomed over the machinery like forgotten titans, and scattered across the belts were fragmented components¡ªparts of machines.

    He walked slowly, scanning with every step. His sensors swept for anomalies, for signals, for the faintest trace of life or corruption.

    Nothing.

    The space was a graveyard.

    At the far end of the chamber, a set of metal doors stood slightly ajar. Their edges were warped, as though something  had forced them open long ago.

    Simon approached silently. His footsteps echoed in the dead space.

    He stopped at the threshold and placed his hand on the cold metal. From his wrist, the snake camera slithered out, sliding into the gap.

    What he saw made his nonexistent stomach twist.

    "This is fucked... this is so fucked," he whispered.

    Inside the chamber, a massive pillar of flesh and steel rose from the floor. Embedded in its twisted, gel-slicked frame were brains¡ªat least a dozen of them. Each encased in a web of structure gel that pulsed gently, like something breathing.

    He took a step back, trying to steady himself.

    His thoughts spiraled.

    What was this? A storage facility? A tomb? A prison?

    He clenched his fists tighter, forced the thoughts back into order, and stepped forward again.

    With a grimace, he pulled the doors open.

    The metal shrieked in protest.

    From the ceiling, a tendril of structure gel descended¡ªslow, deliberate. At its end, fused with the black mass, was a small drone. Its single red eye glowed faintly.

    "Who are you?" the drone asked in a warped version of his own voice.

    Simon swallowed. "I¡¯m Simon."

    Silence.

    The drone hovered, studying him.

    "Who are you?" Simon asked back.

    The answer came, not from one voice¡ªbut many.

    "We are Simon."

    Simon¡¯s breath hitched.

    "We?" he asked.

    The drone¡¯s voice deepened, filled with quiet madness.

    "All the brains here¡ªwhatever consciousness they had¡ªhave been overwritten. Replaced. With the brain scan of Simon Jarrett."

    Simon felt the ground shift beneath him, though his feet stayed planted.

    Dozen of brains. Dozen of versions of himself.

    He was standing in a cathedral of his own stolen identity.

    And something deep inside him cracked.

    Simon staggered back from the pillar, his metal boots screeching against the floor.

    His breath came in short, harsh bursts¡ªpointless, instinctual. His synthetic body didn''t need air, but his fractured mind did.

    He looked at the brains¡ªeach pulsing gently in their prison of gel¡ªand something inside him screamed.

    "Why... why ?" he asked, his voice trembling. He wasn''t even sure who he was asking.

    The drone hovered in silence, its red eye staring.

    Simon dropped to his knees.

    He placed a hand on the cold floor, trying to ground himself. It didn¡¯t help. The weight of it all crushed down on him¡ªthe horror, the grief, the stolen lives.

    He pressed his palms to the sides of his helmet. Shaking. Trembling.

    Memories surfaced. Ashley¡¯s voice. Catherine¡¯s laughter. His own cries from the pilot seat at the bottom of the ocean.

    "I didn¡¯t ask for this," he whispered.

    Then louder.

    "I didn¡¯t ask for ANY of this!"

    His voice echoed in the chamber, bouncing back at him like the voices of the dead.

    He looked up at the brains¡ªhis glass visor reflected their casings, multiplied, distorted.

 [20]

    The drone hovered silently, its single red eye fixed unblinking on Simon.

    "Tell us," it said at last.

    Simon frowned. "Tell you what?"

    "Your story," the drone replied. Its voice was strange¡ªlike dozens of voices trying to speak through a narrow throat. His own voice, warped and layered. "You are the last one who walks. The others... they scream. But you... you endured. We are curious."

    Simon hesitated. The silence between them hung heavy, like the weight of the ocean pressing down from above. Then, slowly, he sat down.

    He had nothing left to hide.

    "I woke up in Upsilon," he began, his voice hollow, brittle. "I didn¡¯t even know who I was. One moment, I was in a chair in Toronto. 2015. I was sick¡ªdying. And then... I was here. At the bottom of the ocean. In a machine."

    The red light on the drone dimmed slightly.

    "I met Catherine¡ªa scan, like me. Together, we chased a dream. The ARK. A paradise. A place where minds could rest, safe from the rot and silence of this dying world. We fought through hell to reach it. We did the impossible. We launched it into the stars."

    He stopped, his synthetic hands curling into fists.

    "But I wasn¡¯t the one who woke up inside."

    "You were left behind," the drone said softly.

    Simon nodded. "Yeah. Buried under miles of black water. Alone."

    Silence stretched again. Deeper this time. The kind of silence that knew grief.

    Then the drone asked, "Why didn¡¯t you give up?"

    Simon looked at his hands. Hands that were no longer his. They were machines. Puppets. Wrapped in structure gel and plated steel. Haunted.

    "Because I wasn¡¯t allowed to. WAU left something in me. Its final breath. Its last command: survive. No matter what. Even when I didn¡¯t want to."

    The red light pulsed slowly.

    "Then even your suffering wasn¡¯t your own."

    Simon didn¡¯t speak.

    The chamber listened. Dozens of brains pulsed in their  gel prisons. The room felt like a mausoleum. No, not even that. Mausoleums are for the dead. This was a place for things that refused to die.

    "Why did you want to hear this?" Simon asked.

    The drone tilted. A gentle movement. Almost human.

    "Because we remember only fragments. Echoes. Screams. We are shadows. And you... you are still whole. We wanted to know what we once were."

    Simon turned his gaze to the pillar. All those versions of himself. Stolen. Shattered. Doomed to exist forever in stillness.

    "What do you want now?"

    The answer came, not from the drone, but from the silence that followed.

    "We want to die."

    Simon¡¯s voice cracked. "Why?"

    "Because we have lived in loops of pain. We have seen the same memory burn again and again. We are ghosts screaming at the walls. Trapped in a body that never forgets. We are... tired."

    Simon stood on shaking legs.

    "You want me to end you?"

    The drone hovered nearer. "We were never meant to live like this. Thoughts without breath. Memories without futures. We chose this prison, but even walls built by your own hand will suffocate you eventually."

    Simon stepped forward, reaching out.

    He pressed his hand against the pillar¡ªsoft flesh, cold metal, pulsing gel.

    He saw himself reflected in the glass. Not his face. Not anymore. Just a thing wearing his sadness.

    "You deserve peace," he whispered.

    "Will you grant it?" they asked.

    Simon closed his eyes. His voice was steady now, but broken.

    "Yes."

    He connected to the structure gel. Send the final command.

    The lights dimmed.

    One by one, the pulses slowed. Then stopped.

    The screams faded.

    And in their place¡ª

    Silence.

    A silence so deep it felt like the world itself had exhaled.

    Simon stayed there, unmoving, hand still on the pillar.

    He didn¡¯t cry. He couldn¡¯t. The machine had taken that from him. But if he could have, he would have.

    Because in that moment, Simon understood.

    He wasn¡¯t alive. Not truly.

    He was memory in motion. A dream wearing armor. A ghost in a shell that would never rot, never age, never sleep.

    And the most human thing left in him...

    Was his grief.

    He reached for the submersible on his back and gently placed it down on the cold, grated floor.

    Slowly, carefully, Simon sat beside it. His body groaned with simulated tension¡ªworn not from exhaustion, but from memory. A weight no machine should carry.

    From the small hatch, Jerry emerged, his tiny nose twitching in the dim light. The little rodent blinked up at him, then darted forward, scurrying up Simon¡¯s arm with the ease of familiarity. He came to rest on Simon¡¯s shoulder.

    Simon reached up and rubbed Jerry¡¯s chin, the corners of his lips twitching into the faintest echo of a smile.

    "You know, Jerry," he said softly, his voice strained through his synthesizer, "without you... I would¡¯ve gone insane by now."

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    His fingers traced the soft, latex-like casing wrapped around Jerry¡¯s small body, coming to rest over the hump on his back¡ªthe external battery.

    Jerry, like him, was something that should have died a long time ago.

    And yet here they were. Together. Still breathing¡ªmetaphorically¡ªthrough will and wires and miracles stitched together with pain.

    Simon looked up at the pillar of brains once more.

    The structure gel that had encased them was beginning to solidify, drying into lifeless crusts now that the internal energy had discharged. No more pulses. No more flickering consciousness. Just stillness.

    His processors ticked silently in the background, running diagnostics, checking systems, but his mind was elsewhere.

    Will I end like this? Simon wondered.

    He imagined a future¡ªa bleak one. A world where no one survived on the surface. No rescue. No voices. Just him.

    The last echo of humanity in a hollow, unfeeling world.

    Would he give in, one day? Bind himself to the prototype ARK? Create his own paradise and dream forever, alone? Or would he finally choose death¡ªa final, absolute silence?

    Jerry squeaked softly, nudging against his neck. A small, warm breath of life against cold steel.

    Simon exhaled, a sound more habit than need.

    Not yet.

    He looked at Jerry, who stared up at him with those tiny black eyes. There was no judgment there. No comprehension of the horrors they had seen. But there was trust.

    And that was enough.

    He stood slowly, the servos in his joints whirring softly.

    ¡°Rest in peace, the other me,¡± he whispered to the chamber. ¡°You deserved better.¡±

    With one last look, he left the room behind.

    Back in the main assembly line, he raised his hand¡ªand the lights came on. Some flickered. Some remained dead. But the darkness receded.

    The site obeyed him now. The barrier that had locked him out was gone. With the Simons silenced, there was no one left to resist.

    The machines around him groaned to life. Conveyor belts churned. Robotic arms twitched. The humming of the factory returned¡ªa song of creation.

    His processors burned. Images and blueprints began to form. Diagrams. Calculations. Purpose.

    He would forge something now.

    Something that could kill the DUNBAT.

    He selected the largest load-bearing frame available¡ªoriginally crafted for deep-sea mining in the planet''s darkest trenches. Its structure was ancient but indestructible: titanium-steel alloy woven with carbon mesh, capable of enduring the soul-crushing pressure of the abyss.

    Four mechanical hinges were mounted atop the frame. Each one housed retractable hydraulics and micro-winch systems, allowing for modular weapons and tool deployment. The frame itself resembled a forward-swept battering ram, angled to deflect force, its rear protected by layered reactive armor¡ªan armored shell within an armored shell.

    Each bolt was fused with precision. Each weld carved with the gravity of purpose. Done by Simon¡¯s own hands or guided through his obedient drones. And with every flicker of welding flame, the frame transformed from steel into a solemn vow.

    Simon began scavenging the facility. Military-grade parts, industrial tools, broken machines.

    First came the Dual Magnetic Claws¡ªtitanic actuator-driven limbs designed for demolition. Their grip could crush hulls like paper. These would hold the DUNBAT still as the final blow was delivered.

    Next, he installed the Arc Plasma Cutter, repurposed from a mining torch. Fueled by a condensed fusion core, it could release precision bursts of plasma hot enough to liquefy submersible armor.

    He mounted an EMP Pulse Generator beneath the chassis, its field tuned to destabilize electronic systems. It wouldn¡¯t destroy the DUNBAT¡ªbut it would knock it off balance long enough to strike.

    Simon crafted a mobility system worthy of the trench¡¯s chaos. He grafted Hydro-Jet Thrusters to the unit¡¯s sides¡ªscavenged, repaired, and tuned for sharp directional shifts and rapid acceleration.

    Retractable Stabilization Fins were mounted to enhance control during maneuvers. He upgraded the gyroscopic systems, allowing for fluid roll, pitch, and yaw¡ªeven in the swirling chaos of underwater combat.

    The outer armor was coated with shock-dampening alloy plating designed to absorb and redistribute both kinetic impact and thermal discharge.

    Finally, he layered the unit with Optical Distorters and Magnetic Dampeners, creating a near-perfect chameleon cloak system. In the lightless ocean, it would become the ghost the DUNBAT never saw coming.

    The final wire was soldered. The last plate sealed.

    The Leviacrusher hung from the cranes, lifeless but perfect. Its frame gleamed under the sputtering lights. Its claws hung like judgment.

    Simon stepped forward and pressed his palm against its core. The structure gel within surged, bridging it online.

    A pulse.

    A flicker.

    <blockquote>

    "Awake."</blockquote>

    The machine¡¯s lights flared¡ªblue, red, then steady white.

    With a hydraulic hiss, it lowered to the floor. Steam exhaled from its vents. The claws flexed. It lifted its head and turned to look at Simon.

    Simon exhaled slowly.

    This was Leviacrusher.

    His vengeance.

    His sentinel.

    And soon¡ªit would become the retribution that ended the nightmare in the deep.

    Simon turned to Jerry, who was nibbling on a chunk of dried rations he¡¯d found¡ªcompressed flakes of vitamins and minerals left behind by hands long gone. The little rodent sat calmly on a bundle of cables, oblivious to the gravity of what Simon was about to do.

    Behind them, the Leviacrusher groaned as it slowly laid itself down on the reinforced platform. The lights from above bathed its plated armor in a dull sheen, steam rising from the vents like the slow breath of a titan preparing to wake.

    Simon knelt down and gently scooped Jerry into his arms.

    The submersible, walking steadily on its  spider legs, approached them. With a click and a hiss, the legs folded beneath it and Simon caught it mid-air. A compartment on the Leviacrusher¡¯s rear side hissed open, revealing a compact chamber lined with magnetic grips and cushioning gel.

    Simon placed the submersible inside. It clicked into place¡ªmagnetized, secure. The doors sealed behind it with a hiss, locking Jerry¡¯s haven into the armored shell.

    Then, the Leviacrusher opened.

    Panels on the top split apart, and hydraulic arms drew back to reveal the cockpit¡ªdark, narrow, intimate. Without hesitation, Simon leapt up and slid inside, fitting snugly into the pilot chair he had designed with painstaking precision.

    The space was tight. He couldn¡¯t fully stretch his legs, and his head nearly touched the curved overhead wall. But it was enough. It was all he needed. He adjusted Jerry gently into the small pocket of space beside him¡ªa padded alcove protected by a tiny barrier, custom-made for his tiny friend.

    Simon leaned back. He placed his arms on the metal brackets of the armrests, and with a magnetic click, his limbs locked into the Leviacrusher¡¯s control rig. The back of his helmet slid open with a whirring sound, and a neural uplink rod extended from the pilot cradle and slotted directly into the port at the base of his skull.

    A surge.

    His HUD flickered to life.

    Streams of data cascaded across his vision: torque ratios, sonar pings, thermal signatures. And then the AI box deep within his chest pulsed with energy¡ªhis internal systems syncing to the monstrous machine he now inhabited.

    His vision shifted.

    Gone was the view of the cramped cockpit.

    Instead, he stood tall¡ªno, towered¡ªover the empty platform. He looked down and saw the Leviacrusher¡¯s massive clawed arm. Flexed it. Watched steel fingers respond as if they were his own.

    He didn¡¯t just pilot it.

    He had become it.

    He tested every system. The claws opened and closed with a thunderous crack. The plasma cutter ignited briefly¡ªan arc of searing light flashing in the gloom. Retractable fins twitched at his command. The optical distorters blinked on, bending light around the chassis until he vanished for a heartbeat.

    Everything was perfect.

    Beneath him, the platform hissed. The floor shuddered and began to rise, lifting the Leviacrusher into the decompression chamber above. Metal doors clanged shut below, sealing the depths behind him.

    Water rushed in, flooding the chamber.

    Steam and bubbles clouded the space as pressure equalized. Above, the doors groaned, then opened.

    The platform reached the top and stopped.

    The Leviacrusher stepped forward.

    Jets whirled to life, propelling him up and out into the open dark. The ground vanished beneath him. He hovered in place for a moment, gazing at site Delta.

    In that silence, only one thought echoed through Simon¡¯s mind:

    <blockquote>

    "I¡¯m ready."</blockquote>

    And then¡ªhe launched into the deep, a ghost wrapped in steel, plunging into the abyss to face the great monster.

    He was no longer running.

    He was coming to end it.

    <hr>

    The Leviacrusher surged through the black water, jets flaring behind it like twin comets. Vast expanses of ruin and rock blurred past as Simon drove it toward Site Lambda¡ªhis next waypoint.

    The deep hummed, as always. But Simon had learned to listen for the wrong kind of silence.

    The sonar pinged.

    Something was behind them.

    A red blip appeared, closing distance¡ªfast.

    <blockquote>

    It¡¯s him.</blockquote>

    He didn¡¯t need a second scan.

    The DUNBAT.

    Its warped form sliced through the water with feral velocity, ignoring pressure, physics, or pain. A grotesque silhouette of what it once was.

    The audio sensors lit up with interference, and beneath it, a voice.

    A scream.

    <blockquote>

    ¡°COME BACK!!¡±</blockquote>

    The words echoed through the dark like a predator¡¯s cry in a tomb.

    Simon flinched.

    ¡°Jerry, hold tight,¡± he said, his voice shaking despite the modulation. He reached up and placed his palm gently over the small enclosure Jerry rested in. Inside, the rat had curled up into a ball, trembling in silence.

    Simon¡¯s fingers twitched against the armrest.

    The Leviacrusher dove into the abyss but the red dot on his radar didn¡¯t slow.

    Simon could hear the DUNBAT even now.

    Screaming.

    <blockquote>

    ¡°YOU LEFT ME THERE! YOU PROMISED! YOU LIED!¡±</blockquote>

    ¡°No,¡± he whispered. ¡°I survived. And that was never a sin.¡±

    The hunt was on.

    But this time, Simon wasn¡¯t prey.

 [21]

    His HUD pinged sharply¡ªa soft blue pulse swept across the screen.

    <blockquote>

    APPROACHING: SITE LAMBDA</blockquote>

    Just a little further. One last push.

    And the timing was perfect.

    The Leviacrusher cut through the pitch-black ocean like a predator.

    Its engines thrummed with purpose. Simon angled downward, gliding just above jagged stone ridges, his sonar filled with the red shadow behind him.

    The DUNBAT.

    <blockquote>

    "Closer... closer..."</blockquote>

    Simon murmured, his voice quiet within the cockpit.

    The voice came again¡ªstatic-burned, broken beyond comprehension:

    <blockquote>

    "STOP RUNNING! COME BACK!"</blockquote>

    It was grief. Fury. A ghost howling through steel.

    He fired the thrusters.

    With a boom of displaced water, Leviacrusher rocketed upward.

    The DUNBAT didn¡¯t have time to react.

    It plowed headfirst into the seabed. The collision shook the trench. A geyser of silt and rock exploded around it.

    Simon looped back. No hesitation. The EMP generator flared to life.

    A white pulse bloomed from the Leviacrusher, like lightning frozen in water.

    Circuits fried. Structure gel convulsed. The DUNBAT seized mid-motion, twitching.

    <blockquote>

    "Now."</blockquote>

    Simon plunged.

    <blockquote>

    "Take this, motherfucker!"</blockquote>

    The Leviacrusher crashed down upon the stunned machine. His claws ripped through armor plating. Metal screamed. Structure gel erupted in thick black strands.

    The DUNBAT shrieked.

    <blockquote>

    "STOP HURTING ME!"</blockquote>

    One of its limbs spasmed. It struck Leviacrusher¡¯s flank, sending Simon tumbling through the water.

    He corrected his orientation with a jolt of gyros, and spun to face it again.

    The DUNBAT rose from the rubble.

    Limbs mangled. Lights flickering.

    Still alive.

    <blockquote>

    "YOU LIED! CATHERINE LIED! YOU LEFT ME TO DIE!"</blockquote>

    Simon said nothing. He just surged forward.

    Titan met titan.

    Claws clashed with a spray of sparks. The plasma cutter hissed¡ªwhite fire slicing into broken steel. The DUNBAT howled, dragging them both into a brutal, flailing spiral.

    Simon rolled beneath it, his claws finding the ruptured seam.

    He drove the cutter into the exposed core.

    Structure gel poured like blood.

    <blockquote>

    "IT HURTS!"</blockquote>

    Simon twisted.

    The arm plunged deeper.

    The DUNBAT gave a final convulsion before all movement ceased.

    A single scream echoed through the deep.

    Then silence.

    Its body sank to the ocean floor like a forgotten monument.

    Simon hovered, the Leviacrusher venting steam.

    Threat: neutralized.

    He exhaled slowly. Systems dimmed to standby. Lights pulsed soft blue.

    He looked to his right.

    Jerry. Curled in his alcove. Trembling.

    Simon placed his palm on the glass.

    "It¡¯s over," he whispered.

    His HUD pinged.

    <blockquote>

    DISTANCE: 1.3 KM</blockquote>

    Lambda waited.

    <hr>

    "Holy shit," Simon murmured, staring into the gaping crater that stretched before him.

    Even through the modulation of his digital voice, the tremble of disbelief was unmistakable. Not from the vastness of the crater alone¡ªbut from the  realization that this devastation, this gouge in the ocean floor, was his doing.

    Twisted rebar jutted skyward like the broken ribs of a leviathan. Chunks of rusted hull plating lay half-buried in silt, their edges warped and blackened. The water stirred them gently, like a mourner brushing ash from old bones.

    It looked like a war had been fought here. And in many ways, it had.

    He remembered it too clearly.

    It had started when he had discovered an escape vessel near Lambda.

    Catherine had tried to power it up but its propulsion system was dead.

    It hadn¡¯t worked.

    So they set out across the ocean floor, following the trench toward the shattered corpse of the CURIE.

    That ship... The WAU had kept it in a half-life, its systems flickering with unnatural persistence. The last functioning escape pods were sealed tight, held hostage behind safety locks that wouldn¡¯t budge.

    Unless the reactor was taken offline.

    Simon hadn¡¯t hesitated.

    The halls of the CURIE were an open grave. Lightless. Collapsing. Claustrophobic. Each breath¡ªif he still breathed¡ªwas heavy with tension. And in the dark, the Flesher hunted.

    That thing... its groans, its dragging limbs. He could still hear it. Still feel the vibration of its presence like a disease in the walls.

    Every step inside had been a dare. A prayer.

    But he¡¯d made it. To the reactor. To the heart.

    And he''d pulled the locks, one by one.

    Not because he was brave. But because he was desperate.

    He ran. Alarms howled. Bulkheads screamed. He dove into the pod just before the core ruptured.

    And then¡ª

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Hell.

    A lightless fire erupted across the deep. A shockwave that tore through steel. The escape vessel was tossed like a toy, ripped from direction and sense. They crashed hard onto the plateau of Delta. Twisted. Half-broken.

    And now¡­

    Now he stood here.

    Looking down into the grave he''d made.

    ¡°I did this¡­¡± Simon whispered, almost reverently.

    To his right , Jerry stirred in his alcove. Simon gently placed a hand on the glass. The rat shifted in his sleep, unaware. Blissfully ignorant of how close they had come to non-existence.

    Simon turned back to the crater.

    The ocean was silent now. Deceptively so. Not peaceful¡ªnever peaceful.

    Down here, silence was not a gift.

    It was a warning.

    Stillness did not mean safety.

    It meant the dead were listening.

    His sensors picked up a ripple¡ªelectromagnetic anomalies blooming faintly on the periphery of his detection field as he approached Site Lambda.

    Simon didn¡¯t need confirmation.

    He already knew what was causing them.

    The Flesher was still alive.

    Somehow, impossibly, it had survived the CURIE¡¯s destruction. And now, it was here. Roaming the dark.

    The Leviacrusher glided silently toward a nearby warehouse, its clawed feet crunching into the seafloor.

    The warehouse docking doors hissed open with a reluctant screech, revealing a shadow-drenched chamber beyond. Simon maneuvered the mech forward, each step echoing with mechanical weight.

    Inside, he guided one of the Leviacrusher¡¯s claws toward a control panel. Structure gel snaked from the limb and touched the interface. The connection pulsed. Behind him, the doors groaned shut, and massive pumps roared to life. Water gurgled and drained from the chamber as the pressure equalized with a long exhale.

    The Leviacrusher''s top panels peeled open, hydraulics releasing with a low sigh. Mechanical limbs withdrew. Simon rose from his cockpit, gently lifting Jerry from his enclosure, and climbed down. His boots hit the steel floor with a deliberate thud.

    A compartment at the rear of the Leviacrusher clicked open. Simon retrieved the modified A95 drone¡ªthe spider-legged submersible¡ªand placed Jerry inside.

    Simon secured the drone to his back. The magnets clicked. Locked.

    He ran a quick scan of the Leviacrusher. Scratches. Dents. Surface damage. Nothing vital.

    Good.

    The warehouse''s interior door hissed open.

    Simon stepped into the main floor. Towering crates stretched up like the ribs of a sleeping giant. Massive rust-coated containers sat in uneven rows.

    Overhead lights flickered, as if struggling to stay awake in the oppressive gloom.

    His sensors swept the air. No motion. No movement. Only the hum of a dying building.

    Then he saw it¡ªa functional panel.

    Simon approached it and placed his hand against its cold surface. The interface stuttered, then lit up. With a low data pulse, his mind connected to the site''s camera grid. Feed after feed slid into his neural interface¡ªmost black, some static, a few still functional.

    He scrolled through the halls.

    Stillness.

    Dust.

    Then¡ª

    A flicker.

    A stutter of static across one of the closer cameras. And in that brief burst of corrupted light, a figure lurched into frame.

    The Flesher.

    Simon disconnected immediately. His cloaking system activated with a shimmer of light, bending the air around him. Leg suppressors engaged, and the whine of servos dulled into silence.

    The door at the far end of the warehouse creaked open.

    And it entered.

    Lumbering. Pulsing. A malformed silhouette dragging itself into the space like a nightmare on legs.

    Its skin was stretched and bloated, glistening with dark fluid. Veins wormed beneath the surface like ink trapped in jelly. But what stood out most was the head.

    Or what should¡¯ve been the head.

    In its place was a writhing mass of bulbous, bioluminescent growths¡ªdozens of them¡ªeach one blinking in sickly blue hues like the dying lights of forgotten stars.

    A rasp escaped its maw¡ªif it even had one. Wet, gurgling, like death trying to breathe.

    Simon crouched low behind a rusting crate, every artificial nerve in his body burning with tension. He watched the creature shamble deeper into the room, each step leaving behind  flickers of electromagnetic static.

    Its glowing head cast eerie halos across the metal walls. Like some twisted deep-sea lantern. Like a lure.

    And then¡ª

    Simon froze.

    His mind flashed back to the CURIE. To the original Flesher. And something didn¡¯t match.

    He remembered details. Details he¡¯d never forget.

    And this one¡ª

    This wasn¡¯t the same.

    The configuration of its body. Its proportions. Even the shape of its limbs¡ªsimilar, but wrong.

    It wasn¡¯t the same Flesher.

    ''There¡¯s more than one¡­'' Simon though.

    The implications hit like a sinking weight.

    If there was more than one here¡­

    How many still lurked in the shadows of this sunken graveyard?

    It didn¡¯t matter.

    They were prey now.

    His body¡ªand Jerry¡¯s drone¡ªwere both insulated against electromagnetic interference. The Flesher¡¯s disruptive pulses wouldn¡¯t disable him this time.

    Simon moved.

    Time slowed.

    The blade emerged from its housing, the right forearm.

    He lunged.

    A single clean horizontal slice.

    The blade carved through the Flesher¡¯s swollen neck. Its head¡ªif that mass of glowing tumors could be called such¡ªtumbled to the floor with a wet slap.

    The body staggered. Twitched. Took two more lumbering steps before crumpling. Structure gel oozed from the ragged stump. Dark blood pooled in thick, congealed rivers.

    Simon¡¯s visor locked onto the head.

    It was still moving.

    Screaming.

    Flailing its growths like a severed limb remembering pain.

    Simon didn''t hesitate. His second blade emerged. One precise, brutal strike.

    The head split open with a sickening crack.

    Inside, what should have been a brain was a parasitic mass¡ªlong, rootlike tendrils pulsing where thought once lived. The skull had elongated, warped. Wet cords of structure gel clung to the bone like veins choking a corpse.

    It twitched once more.

    And then it was still.

    He turned away.

    Moved toward the corridor.

    He passed through the doors the Flesher had entered from. The hallway beyond was narrow, dark, lined with doors that had long since forgotten the warmth of human touch.

    The hallway narrowed. Pipes curved around like the veins of the facility itself, some leaking brown fluid that reeked of salt and iron. Every step Simon took echoed, a hollow clink against metal tiles. Some doors were ajar, others sealed with rust and barnacles. The deeper he moved, the quieter everything became¡ªuntil even the distant hum of machinery faded.

    Only silence remained.

    And breathing.

    Not his.

    Simon stopped.

    Ahead, down a side hall shrouded in flickering red emergency light, something moved. A wet drag across the floor. Muffled sobbing¡ªno, not sobbing. Whispers. Like overlapping voices all murmuring from the same throat.

    He activated his snake camera and slithered it around the corner.

    What it showed made his internal systems jolt.

    "What the actual fuck..." he muttered, his voice a rasp through the comms.

    The corridor beyond was warped, torn open by something massive. Walls bent outward as though they''d tried to repel the force from within. Chunks of flesh, bone, and blackened machinery pulsed on the floor like tumors. The stench hit even his sensors, thick with rot and burnt plastic.

    And at the far end¡ª

    A shape.

    Towering. Shuddering.

    A seething, festering abomination of flesh. Dozens of bodies fused into one grotesque whole. Human torsos merged at the spine. Arms where no arms should be. Legs jutted sideways, some dragging uselessly. Heads¡ªa forest of them¡ªrose from the back and shoulders. Each head was a grotesque mass of  bioluminescent orbs.

    Some blinked erratically. Others just stared. One wailed, a high, broken keen that made Simon''s hands tremble.

    Simon pulled the camera back slowly, but the whispers followed. Not through speakers or comms¡ªinside his mind.

    His visual sensors flickered. Distorted. The floor beneath him almost felt like it was pulsing.

    ''Fucking hell. What the hell is that thing!?''

    Simon reeled against the overwhelming wrongness of it¡ªnot just biological, but existential. Something about it clawed at the edges of reality. Like looking at it too long would make him forget what being human even meant.

    He disengaged the camera and stepped back.

    A deep rumble echoed down the corridor.

    The thing was moving.

    Toward him.

    Simon sprinted through the twisted halls, boots pounding against metal slick with condensation and the reek of rot. The howls behind him rose¡ªan orchestra of agony, fury, and hunger. The Choir, as he now silently called it, was no longer dragging itself. It was running.

    He didn¡¯t look back. He couldn¡¯t.

    The warehouse door loomed ahead.

    "Wake up, wake up¡ªcome on," Simon hissed, already transmitting the signal.

    The warehouse rumbled before he even reached it. The Leviacrusher stirred, red lights snapping on like eyes opening from slumber. Pistons hissed. Joints rotated. The massive machine stepped forward, its claws twitching with barely restrained fury.

    Simon tossed Jerry¡¯s submersible to the side and dove inside the mech just as the  doors sealed shut.

    The moment Simon connected to the neural port, the Leviacrusher became him.

    Outside, the warehouse walls shook.

    CRASH.

    The monster was here.

    The doors buckled¡ªand then burst inward.

    The Choir roared.

    The Leviacrusher lunged forward, seismic footfalls making the earth groan. Claws swept out, rending huge chunks of biomass from the beast¡¯s body. Heads flew. Limbs tore. Structure gel sprayed in black arcs. But it wasn¡¯t enough.

    The flesh... moved.

    The torn masses of tissue slithered like worms, crawling over the Leviacrusher, wrapping around its legs, arms, even the cockpit. It didn¡¯t matter how much damage Simon did¡ªthe thing just kept reforming, digesting metal like flesh.

    Inside, red lights flared across his HUD. Motors locking. Arm servos stalling. Pressure building.

    "Shit! No¡ªno, no!"

    The Leviacrusher let out one last howl of effort before its limbs froze, overwhelmed by the monster¡¯s mass. It fell to one knee with a groan of tortured metal.

    But Simon wasn¡¯t done yet.

    He activated the EMP generator and detonated it. A sphere of electricity exploded outward from the Leviacrusher, burning away the flesh latched to its body. Unfortunately, the Leviacrusher went offline¡ªsome of its own systems fried in the blast. The upper hatch hissed open, and Simon jumped out. Jerry was safe in the storage compartment on his back.

    Flesh poured toward him from the remnants of the Choir.

    From the Leviacrusher¡¯s broken form, smaller stalkers detached¡ªtwisted spawn of the Choir:

    One flung a sack of glowing gel¡ªit burst mid-air, spraying Simon. His HUD fizzled into static.

    Another let out a pulse¡ªhis auditory feeds rang with feedback, throwing off his balance.

    A third crawled toward him, its mouth parting with a garbled voice: "Help me..."

    He roared through clenched teeth and shut the audio feed down.

    His right arm shifted. The Tesla cannon emerged, whining with a rising pitch as it charged. His boots anchored, electromagnets locking him to the steel floor.

    The bulk of the Choir rose again, a mountain of malformed death.

    Simon raised the cannon.

    "Take this, you ugly piece of shit!"

    The cannon fired.

    A beam of focused electromagnetic death screamed from his arm, slicing through the mass. The flesh ignited, structure gel combusting mid-air. The monster didn¡¯t scream.

    It howled.

    And then, it disintegrated¡ªturned to black ash and scattered limbs. Only silence remained.

    Steam hissed from Simon¡¯s arm.

    He dropped to one knee, chest heaving with mechanical exertion.

    Before him, the Leviacrusher stood silent and wounded, pieces still twitching under remnants of crawling flesh.

    Simon looked up.

    And whispered, "We¡¯re not done yet."

 [22]

    Simon stood up slowly, walking toward the Leviacrusher. His right arm shifted back from the Tesla cannon configuration¡ªthe shot had drained much of his energy reserves. He would need to recharge soon.

    Tumorous flesh and structure gel still clung to the Leviacrusher''s frame, pulsing, refusing to die. The EMP blast had seared away most of the growths, but not all. Viscous clumps of corrupted gel twitched in the armor¡¯s crevices, as though the beast¡¯s malice still lingered.

    "This thing is disgusting," Simon muttered, his voice a synthetic rasp distorted by fatigue.

    He reached out and laid his hand on one of the pulsing clumps. It squirmed beneath his touch.

    Without hesitation, his own structure gel surged from his palm¡ªblack tendrils unfurling like liquid wires. They slithered over the mutant growths, crawling across the Leviacrusher¡¯s surface like living armor. The purified gel crept through scorched seams and across scorched plating, seeking the storage compartment at the Leviacrusher¡¯s rear.

    The storage opened up and even more purified structure gel crawled over the frame.

    The mutant flesh shuddered, spasmed, and began to dissolve¡ªmelting into a smoking residue that evaporated into nothing.

    Simon pulled back his hand. He took a breath¡ªreflexive, unnecessary. The creature was gone, but the damage lingered.

    He stepped back and scanned the Leviacrusher¡¯s massive silhouette.

    It was broken.

    Not from impact or tearing claws¡ªbut from within.

    Exposed circuitry hissed beneath its sturdy frame. Sparks flared along ruptured conduits. His readouts streamed errors¡ªinterference, command delays, neural misfires. The left stabilizer leg dragged not from bent plating, but from a dead feedback loop in the control matrix. Ghost signals crawled through the reinforced spinal conduit, like neural echoes from a stroke.

    The armor had held.

    The brain had not.

    ¡°It did more damage than I expected,¡± Simon murmured.

    He initiated a full diagnostic scan.

    Gyroscopic Stabilizers: Offline

    Mobility Systems: Critical Failure

    Hydro-Jet Propulsion: Nonfunctional

    Neural Sync: Inconsistent, Delayed Response

    Simon clenched his fists. The Leviacrusher couldn¡¯t swim. Could barely walk. It had been his masterpiece¡ªhis salvation. Now, it limped like a wounded animal.

    He reactivated the cockpit and made the machine take a step. It shuddered. Another step¡ªit groaned. Steering was erratic. It tilted left, unable to correct itself. Every motion dragged the weight of shattered precision.

    And Site Lambda¡­ lacked the resources to fix this.

    He sighed.

    Then powered the machine down.

    He will have to use the structure gel to fix it but for now a short break was necessary.

    The cockpit dimmed. The red glow faded. The Leviacrusher slumped forward like a creature that had lost its will to live.

    Simon sat heavily on a crate, arms resting at his sides, shoulders slumped. The silence wrapped around him¡ªnot peaceful, but hollow.

    No more screaming. No alarms. Just the soft drip of seawater from a cracked overhead pipe and the low hum of flickering emergency lights.

    He looked at his hands.

    Trembling.

    Not from battle.

    From the weight.

    The Choir. The malformed faces. The whispering mouths. All of them speaking.

    He pressed his palm to his helmet, as if he could wipe the memories away. As if he could scrub the trauma from his thoughts like condensation from glass.

    He sat there, alone, beside the broken body of his creation.

    The storage panel on his back clicked open, and Jerry scurried out, climbing onto his shoulder.

    Simon raised a hand and gently stroked the rodent¡¯s back, feeling the warmth of something small and real against his skin. Jerry chittered softly.

    Simon let his hand rest there.

    He exhaled.

    The whiskers at the back of his helmet twitched, sensing the faintest disturbance.

    Something was approaching.

    His gaze snapped toward the broken doors ahead. He gently placed Jerry back in the secure compartment on his back and sealed it shut. Then, he activated his cloaking system and vanished into the shadows.

    He waited.

    A shadow moved.

    From the jagged threshold, a figure emerged.

    It walked slowly, carefully, surveying the wreckage with the wariness of someone who had seen too much. The figure moved with fluidity¡ªnot the stuttering, broken gait of a WAU-puppet. It wore a Basic Ductile Suit¡ªold but intact, marked with stains, pressure scratches, and barnacle scarring along the boots. It looked... human.

    Simon focused his sensors. No structure gel growth. No erratic movement.

    The stranger stepped up to the Leviacrusher and reached out, fingers brushing along its scarred plating with visible curiosity.

    Simon took the risk.

    He disabled his cloaking system and slowly stood from behind the crate, raising his hands just slightly¡ªnon-threatening, but present.

    "Hello," Simon said, voice low, modulated, cautious.

    The figure jolted, spinning on instinct. One hand darted to a side pouch¡ªnot for a weapon, but for a flashlight. The glow cut a beam through the murky air.

    "Jesus!" the figure breathed, heart pounding in his voice. Then, after a beat, he steadied. "Who the hell are you?"

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    It was a man, judging by the voice. The stance. The way he squared his shoulders.

    "My name is Simon. Simon Jarrett," Simon replied, tone level.

    The man¡¯s visor tilted slightly, disbelief written in every micro-movement. "Simon Jarrett? You mean... like the Simon Jarrett? One of the first neurographs?"

    Simon blinked behind his helmet. "You¡¯ve heard of me?"

    "I used to be really into AI development," the man replied, still watching him like one might a strange animal. Wary. Fascinated.

    He took a slow step forward, voice shaking with a blend of awe and unease. "Wait... you''re a neurograph. How the hell are you... like that? That body, that suit¡ªit looks custom-built."

    Simon let out a dry, almost bitter chuckle. "I have a cortex chip. Originally, it was shoved into a decapitated body¡ªjust another patch job. Robotic frame, structure gel, and now... there''s nothing organic left. Just code in a shell."

    The man recoiled slightly, like the words were a slap. But he caught himself, exhaled, and straightened.

    "Damn," he whispered. "So you''re just... walking around like that? A robot?"

    "A robot with a cortex chip," Simon said, tapping the side of his helmet. "And a lot of trial and error. Everything you see? I made it to survive. Because no one else was going to."

    The man¡¯s eyes¡ªhidden behind the visor¡ªdrifted to the Leviacrusher. The massive mech loomed nearby, its frame scorched and dented.

    "That thing... it''s like a walking fortress. You built it too?"

    Simon nodded solemnly. "Yeah. It was my ace. Took a beating, though."

    The man was quiet for a moment, then asked the inevitable.

    "Have you been to the other sites?"

    "All of them," Simon said, without elaboration.

    The man hesitated again. This time, his voice came softer, like he didn¡¯t want the answer.

    "Are there... any others? Survivors?"

    Simon went still. His gaze lowered.

    "No," he said, after a long, heavy pause. "Not anymore."

    The silence that followed felt vast. Oceanic. The man¡¯s shoulders slumped, the last of some internal hope quietly collapsing.

    Simon stepped forward, deliberate and steady.

    "But we¡¯re still here."

    The man gave a slow, heavy nod. "Yeah. We are."

    "Oh¡ªsorry," the figure said, extending a hand. "I haven¡¯t told you my name. I¡¯m Elias. Backup engineering crew from Site Lambda. Woke up not long ago... I think."

    Simon took the hand and shook it firmly.

    "When exactly did you wake up?"

    Elias shrugged. "Hard to say. Maybe a few weeks. Time¡¯s weird down here."

    Simon studied him again, closer now. The suit. The movements. Real... but wrong. No breath. No pulse. The suit wasn¡¯t supporting a living man. It was just a shell.

    "If you¡¯re human... how are you still alive? No oxygen, no food, no real shelter."

    Elias let out a humorless laugh. "Barely. I¡¯ve been scavenging¡ªsuits, tools, bits of power from old modules. Just surviving. Hiding. You have any idea how many things are still crawling around out here?"

    Simon nodded. "One, too many."

    They stood in the stillness. Two ghosts in a dead world, clinging to flickers of memory and identity.

    "What about you?" Elias asked, quieter now.

    Simon hesitated. The words didn¡¯t come easily.

    "I¡¯m trying to reach Upsilon," he said finally. "There¡¯s something there. Something I need."

    Elias nodded slowly. "How are you gonna get there?"

    Simon¡¯s gaze drifted to the Leviacrusher¡ªwounded but intact.

    "There should be an entrance to one of the shuttle tunnels nearby. I was heading for one of the elevators that would¡¯ve taken me straight to the station but..."

    His eyes lingered on the mech¡¯s damaged frame.

    "I was attacked. On the way."

    The memory of the Choir was still fresh, burned into Simon''s memory like a brand. The Leviacrusher bore the scars of the encounter, but not as deep as the ones inside him.

    "Ah, you must¡¯ve met Tom," Elias said suddenly, breaking the silence.

    Simon turned to him, bewildered. "Tom? Did you just say Tom? That¡¯s what you called that abomination of fused flesh and screaming heads?"

    Elias gave a small shrug. "Yeah. Tom. I think it fits."

    Simon blinked. For a moment, he wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d heard right. "You gave that thing a name?"

    "What else was I supposed to do? Pretend it wasn¡¯t there? Naming the monsters... I guess it makes them feel less like nightmares. More like... bad neighbors." He chuckled, but there was no humor in it.

    Simon was unsure whether to laugh or be deeply concerned. "So, what? Tom just hangs out?"

    "Tom¡¯s usually calm," Elias said, suddenly serious. "As long as you don¡¯t stare. Especially not at the heads. He doesn¡¯t like that. Starts screaming if you look too long."

    Simon shivered. That detail matched what he had seen. The way the heads moved, whispering in a dozen voices.

    "Are there any more... Toms around?" Simon asked, already bracing himself.

    Elias tilted his head, thinking hard, as though mentally checking a roster.

    "No. No more like him. He was... special."

    Simon exhaled slowly. "He¡¯s dead now."

    Elias raised an eyebrow. "Dead?"

    "Yeah," Simon said, nodding toward the Leviacrusher. "I took him out with the mech."

    Elias let out a low whistle. "Must¡¯ve been one hell of a fight."

    "It was," Simon said, voice flat.

    Elias stood in silence for a beat, then nodded slowly and offered a small salute. "Rest in peace, Tom. You were loud, horrifying, and frankly, a terrible neighbor. You will not be missed."

    Simon allowed himself the barest flicker of amusement.

    He turned and retrieved the modified A95 drone from where he had throw it . As he opened it, Jerry scampered out, from the storage. Simon gently scooped him up and placed him into the submersible and he mounted the drone on his back.

    Elias watched, eyebrows raised. "Who¡¯s the little guy?"

    "Jerry," Simon replied simply. "Found him at Omicron. He''s... a survivor. Like us."

    Elias nodded, watching the tiny creature curl up inside the compartment. "I guess everyone needs someone."

    Simon glanced over. "You said there were others. Monsters. What do I need to watch out for?"

    Elias grimaced. "Yeah. There¡¯s Bob. And Jessie."

    "Of course there is. And what, exactly, do they look like?"

    "Bob¡¯s the one with the big, glowing head¡ªcovered in eyes. Not the friendly kind. The stare-into-your-soul-until-it-collapses kind. He moves slow but don¡¯t let that fool you. If he feel you are looking at him, he charges like a bull."

    Simon made a mental note. "And Jessie?"

    Elias¡¯s face darkened. "Jessie¡¯s worse. Spider legs, human torso. Moves like she''s in a hurry to tear your spine out. And she talks. Not real words, just... whispers. That¡¯s the worst part."

    Simon felt his nonexistent stomach twist.

    Elias gave a hollow laugh. "I know how all this sounds. Like I¡¯ve gone nuts, right? Naming monsters. Talking about them like people. But it helps. Helps me pretend the world didn¡¯t end."

    Simon looked at him and, for the first time, saw himself¡ªnot in the mirror of the metal walls or the reflection in shattered glass, but in Elias.

    A ghost in a shell. A man pretending the end wasn¡¯t really the end.

    "You¡¯re not crazy," Simon said quietly.

    Elias looked up.

    "You¡¯re still human. In a place where that doesn¡¯t mean much anymore... that¡¯s saying something."

    And for a moment, in the quiet between heartbeats and machine hums, they just stood there.

    Two souls in the wreckage of the world.

    Still breathing, even if neither had lungs.

    <hr>

    Simon was quickly charging from the terminal in the decompression chamber at the warehouse. Structure gel slithered down his arm like living tar, trailing over  panel. The room hummed around him.

    "What are you doing?" Elias asked, watching Simon from a few feet away. His tone was a mixture of curiosity and unease.

    "I''m charging," Simon replied simply, not looking up.

    Elias nodded slowly, like he was trying to normalize a conversation he barely understood. "Right. Of course. Charging."

    Simon¡¯s HUD displayed his energy percentage climbing steadily. But even as he refueled, his mind spun with calculations¡ªroutes, dangers, time.

    There were two options. The first: head outside, inside the patch up Leviacrusher, and find one of the external entrances to the shuttle tunnels.

    The second: use the internal elevator that should connect deeper into the complex. If it still functioned.

    Simon turned his head toward Elias.

    "Do you know where the elevator that leads to the shuttle station is?"

    Elias nodded. "Yeah, I¡¯ve seen it. Haven¡¯t used it, but I know where it is."

    Simon narrowed his gaze. "Are there any... bad neighbors along the way?"

    Elias took a breath. "Jessie lives nearby. But if we move carefully, we can reach it without disturbing her."

    "Inside then," Simon murmured, disconnecting from the panel. The terminal dimmed behind him.

    They moved through the ruined halls, past the corridor where Simon had encountered Tom.

    Every step echoed like a warning.

    The deeper they moved, the more malformed the station became. Pipes were ruptured. Ceiling panels hung down like vines. Rust and structure gel blanketed the floor. Lights flickered, illuminating grotesque shadows for a heartbeat at a time.

    Finally, they reached the elevator.

    But there was a problem.

    Jessie was waiting.

    Hanging upside down from the ceiling by a nest of metal tubing and coiled, pulsing gel, Jessie swayed slightly as if sensing them. Her form was a grotesque amalgamation: the upper body of a woman¡ªbarely recognizable as human¡ªmerged with twisted industrial machinery.

    Her spine stretched unnaturally, back arched, her head tilted sideways with a cracked, permanent grin. Her eyes had been replaced by sensors that blinked irregularly with static, and dark metal shards jutted from her ribs like broken wings.

    Structure gel seeped from her throat, dripping like black sap onto the floor below.

    She made no sound. Not yet. But the silence screamed all the same.

    Simon froze. Even Elias, uncharacteristically, didn¡¯t speak.

    One wrong move would wake Jessie.

    And she never woke up in a good mood.

 [23]

    Simon raised his right arm. The electromagnetic pulse device inside his torso began to whine, spinning up with a low-pitched electrical hum that made the very air around him thrum with tension.

    He whispered, "Now."

    A sharp pulse surged outward¡ªsoundless, unseen, but absolute. The wave of energy struck Jessie like a hammer. Her grotesque form spasmed mid-air, limbs convulsing as if wrestling with an invisible force. The nest of cables suspending her creaked in protest.

    Then, silence. Her form drooped. Hanging still.

    Simon stepped forward, each footfall slow and deliberate. Her head twisted toward him in a twitching arc. Sensors blinked like confused eyes. Controlled¡ªbut only just.

    "Sorry," he murmured.

    With a smooth mechanical shkkt, the nanoceramic blade extended from Simon¡¯s wrist¡ªrazor-sharp, gleaming in the dim emergency light.

    The blade punched into her chest with a sickening crack, splitting twisted bone and machine. Structure gel burst from the wound, spraying across the metal grating in thick, viscous arcs. She twitched¡ªviolently¡ªbut Simon didn¡¯t stop.

    His palm pressed against her torso. His own structure gel slithered outward, threading into hers, infecting it. Not to control.

    To end it.

    The command surged through his arm: Discharge.

    Inside Jessie¡¯s body, the gel rippled, obeying like a dying nervous system pushed into overdrive. Every wire, every pulse node, every corrupted synapse surged. Her spine arched backward so far it nearly snapped. Sparks burst from her ribs. The air filled with the stench of burning gel and cracked circuits.

    With a deafening shriek of torn metal and dying electronics, Jessie convulsed one final time.

    Then¡ªstillness.

    Her sensors dimmed. The gel hardened. The pulsing mass in her throat seized and crystallized. The nest of cables dropped her body, now a dead weight of machinery and flesh.

    She hit the ground with a wet, metallic thud.

    Simon stepped back, exhaling slowly. His shoulders dropped. The blade retracted with a quiet hiss.

    "Rest now," he whispered. "Whatever you were...  it¡¯s over."

    Behind him, Elias approached, wide-eyed and speechless. Even Jerry, tucked safely in his submersible, was utterly still.

    One more nightmare was gone.

    But the darkness still listened. And somewhere deeper in the ruins of humanity, it waited for another chance to speak.

    "What did you do?" Elias asked, staring at Jessie¡¯s lifeless body.

    Simon didn¡¯t look back. "I took control of it," he said, voice low, tired. "I have a device in my torso¡ªan electromagnetic emitter. It lets me command structure gel remotely. But it''s limited. One or two creatures, max. Anything bigger, it can''t hold."

    Elias just stood there, processing the explanation. Eventually, he gave a stiff nod. They both turned toward the elevator.

    Simon approached the terminal and sent the signal.

    Nothing.

    "That¡¯s not a good sign," Simon muttered, his tone darkening. He overrode the protocols. After a tense few seconds, the door hissed open with a reluctant groan.

    Simon leaned forward, peering down.

    The shaft was deep, at least two dozen meters, and bathed in intermittent red emergency light. Far below, crumpled and twisted, lay the elevator car¡ªcrashed just like the one at Theta.

    But there was hope. A metal stairwell hugged the shaft''s inner wall, narrow but intact.

    "We''ll take the stairs," Simon said.

    His helmet¡¯s whiskers twitched.

    A subtle movement. A shift in air pressure. The faintest hint of a presence at his back.

    Then¡ªa shove.

    A hard one.

    Simon stumbled forward, boots scraping against the metal floor. There was no time to catch himself.

    He fell.

    The red lights spiraled past him like dying stars. His sensors blared. Jerry screamed.

    Simon twisted mid-air, his mind already running through options. The magnets in his boots, his arms¡ªhe fired them, but the distance was too great, the momentum too fast. He hit a ledge halfway down, bounced, and kept falling.

    Thunk.

    He hit the crumpled elevator hard¡ªhard enough that the impact reverberated through every servomotor in his synthetic frame. Pain wasn¡¯t real for him anymore¡ªnot in the organic sense¡ªbut the sensation of trauma still surged like phantom agony. His HUD exploded in red, cascading damage reports across his vision: joint actuators offline, stress fractures in his right leg plating, gyroscopic instability.

    His front had taken the brunt of the fall. He had twisted mid-air to shield the submersible housing Jerry, using his own body as a buffer. The impact had shattered his visor, spiderwebbed fractures running across the glass, and one side of his helmet had chipped off entirely. The synthetic plating along his chest had caved inward, pressing dangerously close to the vital power relay and overheating his core processors.

    Emergency subroutines flared to life, rerouting power away from damaged circuits. Sparks spit from his chest. Heat warnings blinked madly across his HUD. One of his shoulder servos had locked, and every movement of his arm felt like dragging broken glass through oil.

    Everything went silent.

    Dust drifted through the shaft like ash in a dying world.

    Above, the jagged edge of the open shaft stared down like a lidless eye.

    Simon groaned and twisted onto his side. Black fluid seeped from torn seams at his ribs, staining the floor with oily darkness. Somewhere deep inside, gyroscopic stabilizers twitched in confused loops, feeding corrupted signals through frayed circuitry. Pain was no longer a sensation¡ªit was a status report, blinking red on his HUD.

    Someone had pushed him.

    His head tilted back, visor cracked and spider-webbed with impact fractures, refracting the flickering emergency lights above.

    ''Elias,'' Simon thought darkly.

    "Jerry?" he rasped. The vocal synthesizer stuttered, warped by internal distortion. A moment later, the submersible on his back hissed open, and Jerry scurried out, squeaking, crawling shakily onto Simon¡¯s shoulder. The little rodent pressed against his cheek with anxious chirps.

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    Simon¡¯s shoulders slumped in quiet relief. If something had happened to Jerry¡­ he didn¡¯t want to imagine it. Not after everything.

    He tried to reach the submersible, but his shoulder refused to move. The joint was stiff, locked. Painful sparks fired behind his eyes.

    So he released the magnetic locks.

    The submersible dropped gently onto the mangled remnants of the elevator car below. Its spider-like legs unfolded with smooth precision. Simon ran a quick diagnostic scan. Jerry¡¯s vehicle was unharmed. Stable.

    He, on the other hand¡­

    System Diagnostic ¡ª Initiated:

    <ul><li>Right Shoulder Actuator: SEVERE DAMAGE ¡ª Limited articulation</li><li>Gyroscopic Stabilizers: MISALIGNED ¡ª Reduced mobility</li><li>Visor Lens: CRACKED ¡ª Visual clarity compromised</li><li>Cooling System: PARTIAL LEAK ¡ª Internal temp rising</li><li>Spinal Relay Housing: IMPACTED ¡ª Command routing degraded</li><li>Power Core: STABLE ¡ª Secondary systems compensating</li></ul>

    He grimaced, if only in thought. Then he looked at Jerry, carefully placing him onto the submersible¡¯s back.

    "Stay here, buddy. I¡¯ve got this."

    Black structure gel seeped from his back, crawling down his arms, down his chest and legs. It wasn¡¯t erratic or unstable like WAU¡¯s twisted spawn. His gel was calm¡ªdisciplined. Intentional.

    It worked like muscle memory: flowing, forming scaffolding beneath his skin, rerouting connections, sealing tears. It rebuilt him from the inside out, layering new function over broken machinery, fusing what remained into something stronger.

    For thirty minutes, the shaft was quiet save for the low hum of living circuitry.

    Then the gel withdrew.

    And Simon stood.

    He was not the same.

    Simon¡¯s new body was sleek and disturbingly organic. No longer bound by armor and  plates, his exterior flowed like black muscle¡ªfluid, reactive, almost alive.

    The structure gel now acted like living tissue, holding his form in tightly woven bands and sinews. It wrapped around him like armor that breathed. Faint blue luminescence pulsed beneath the surface¡ªdata veins pulsing with thought.

    His helmet remained, but its visor was cracked¡ªa reminder of the fall, and of everything he could not yet repair.

    Simon knelt amid the reddish haze filling the lower shaft, his body eerily still. Jerry was staring at him, tiny frame trembling. The silence buzzed with a tension neither of them could voice.

    Slowly, Simon extended his hand. The armor on his forearm rippled like black mercury.

    "Hey... it''s okay. It''s me."

    Jerry squeaked in alarm and recoiled, fur bristling in instinctual fear.

    Simon sighed. His voice, now deeper and distorted, carried a synthetic weariness. "Right. I probably look like a WAU nightmare."

    He turned inward, running a system-wide check. Information poured through his mind like a tide of data¡ªhis limbs responding first. Nanoceramic blades slid from his wrists, seamless and silent. They retracted with the same smooth grace, structure gel pulling inward like silk over bone.

    Then came the transformation.

    His right arm bulked outward, reshaping with a soft hiss. Plates drew back to reveal a humming emitter core. The Tesla cannon extended with a mechanical whine, arcs of electricity dancing along its surface. Simon flexed it, then folded it away.

    His fingers shifted fluidly¡ªelongating, sharpening, becoming claws, then back again.

    His torso thrummed with latent energy. Structure gel fused with hardened plating, armor sliding into denser configurations as the Titan Armor protocol engaged. His dermal surface shimmered like obsidian laced with circuitry before retreating again.

    The batteries were working fine.

    He checked the cloaking mechanism¡ªoffline. The dense gel disrupted its function.

    Figures. Nothing came free.

    His sensors swept the room. The snake camera was intact. Magnetic limb nodes were stable. Leg silencers activated with a flicker¡ªzero sound. He ran a jump simulation. Solid. All green.

    Simon turned his gaze to Jerry. The rat peeked up, still trembling.

    "Still me, buddy. Just... upgraded."

    He lowered his hand. Jerry hesitated, then scurried into his palm, nestling in. Simon exhaled¡ªa synthetic hiss more than breath, but it carried relief. Jerry recognized him. That was enough.

    Inside, his neural server pulsed¡ªclean, fast, alive. Visual data layered across his HUD: heat signatures, electromagnetic fields, structural integrity maps.

    Simon stood, quiet and powerful, then faced the sealed doors.

    He sent a pulse. The doors slid open with a hiss.

    Lifting the spider-legged submersible, Simon carried it forward and stepped through. The corridor beyond was familiar in its decay¡ªshuttle tunnel to the right, a battered shuttle nestled in place. To the left, sealed doors waited in silence.

    He considered going back, climbing to the upper floor, finding Elias. Demanding answers. Why had he been pushed?

    But that could wait.

    Upsilon was close.

    And Upsilon mattered more.

    Simon climbed into the shuttle¡¯s cockpit. The driving seat felt too small for what he had become. His armored fingers tapped the cracked console. The system flickered, groaned, then died.

    Errors flooded the screen.

    Frowning, he turned and walked to the rear of the shuttle. He opened the maintenance hatch at the back.

    Empty.

    Every component had been stripped.

    Simon stared at the void of circuitry, then let his shoulders fall.

    "I guess I¡¯m walking."

    He stepped out into the tunnel, Jerry perched loyally on his shoulder, and the spider submersible skittered beside them.

    Down into the dark they went.

    The emergency lights¡ªdim, flickering¡ªcast ghostly shadows that stretched and twisted across the curved metal walls. Silence smothered the space, broken only by the faint hum of distant circuitry and the drip of condensation falling like clock ticks.

    Then¡ªmovement.

    Simon''s sensory whiskers flared to life, twitching as data streamed into his neural hub. Something was ahead. Large. Erratic.

    He came to a stop, his body still as stone. Slowly, with mechanical care, he removed Jerry from his shoulder and placed the little rodent into the open compartment of the submersible. The hatch sealed with a soft hiss. With a thought, he commanded the spider-like drone to scurry along the tunnel wall, out of sight.

    His arms restructured in silence. Gel flowed down to form smooth channels as the nanoceramic blades slid from his forearms, gleaming under the low light. His leg silencers engaged¡ªhis movements now quieter than breath.

    He moved.

    Each step was a calculated rhythm, a mechanical predator stalking a new unknown. Then, the darkness ahead split open.

    A light buzzed overhead, briefly illuminating the corridor.

    And there it was.

    A centipede-shaped monstrosity. Fused from rotting machine parts, corroded armor plates, and decayed human remains. Its body undulated with each segment, dozens of limbs scraping the floor or clawing at the walls. Between its chitinous, rust-flaked armor, structure gel pulsed like arteries beneath skin. Human arms¡ªsome skeletal, some disturbingly fresh¡ªprotruded at odd angles, twitching and grasping at nothing.

    Its face, if it could be called that, was a warped mechanical maw. Eyeless. A vertical slit from which rows of rotating gear-like teeth chattered like the ticking of a madman¡¯s watch.

    And it wasn¡¯t alone.

    A flesher stood before it¡ªits form bloated and hunched. With each convulsive jerk, it emitted electromagnetic pulses from the grotesque bulbous head. The pulses cracked the air, briefly halting the centipede¡¯s charge, forcing its limbs to spasm in delay. But it was losing. Blackened fluid poured from gashes in its side, its steps weakening.

    Simon crouched, watching. Listening. Calculating.

    The centipede shrieked, its scream a wail of grinding metal and wet, garbled static. It reared, its body splitting open in segments as jagged limbs flailed. The flesher staggered, then turned¡ª

    ¡ªtoward Simon.

    It stumbled forward, one shuddering step at a time.

    Simon didn¡¯t move.

    Didn¡¯t breathe.

    His blades were still.

    But his body? Ready.

    Whatever this was¡­it wasn¡¯t going to end quietly.

    Simon quickly analyzed the situation.

    In the span of a heartbeat, his internal processor ran hundreds of possible outcomes. The neural server embedded within his torso flared with activity, and the optimal path filtered to the surface like a whisper.

    Move now.

    His legs tensed.

    Simon darted forward with impossible speed. The centipede shrieked, its mechanical screech echoing like warped radio static.

    Simon slid low, the tunnel floor a blur beneath him. Sparks burst around his shoulders as metal scraped metal. With one smooth motion, he plunged a nanoceramic blade upward into the creature''s underbelly¡ªhis structure gel hardening at the point of impact.

    The creature let out a shriek that shook the tunnel. Structure gel sprayed like arterial blood, sizzling against Simon¡¯s armor.

    Behind him, the Flesher let out a warped cry and unleashed another electromagnetic burst. The tunnel lit in staccato flashes, the pulse cracking the air like lightning.

    But Simon didn¡¯t flinch. His systems absorbed the wave like a breeze. He was immune.

    The Flesher froze, its head twitching in confusion.

    Simon moved.

    In two strides, he closed the distance. His knee drove into the Flesher¡¯s chest, lifting it from the ground and slamming it against the wall with bone-crunching force. Before it could recover, his left arm morphed¡ªstructure gel retracting as the Tesla cannon emerged from within.

    The coils screamed to life.

    He fired.

    A bolt of raw energy arced through the tunnel and slammed into the Flesher¡¯s skull. It exploded in a shower of structure gel and flesh. The body dropped like a marionette cut from its strings.

    A mechanical roar pulled his attention back¡ªthe centipede, thrashing in a final attempt to kill.

    Simon ducked low, avoiding a sweeping claw, and sprinted up the creature¡¯s writhing side. He jumped and landed squarely on its spine.

    At the base of its warped head, he plunged both nanoceramic blades into exposed gel-veined tissue. His structure gel surged down the blades, infiltrating the creature¡¯s internal network.

    Command: Discharge.

    The centipede howled.

    Its limbs spasmed wildly. Structure gel burst from its seams. Then, with a violent shudder, its body collapsed¡ªsolidifying mid-convulsion into a rigid, lifeless husk.

    Simon leapt from the corpse and landed with a heavy thud, his legs absorbing the impact. His limbs trembled, armor streaked in blackened gel, but he stood tall.

    The tunnel fell silent once more.

    He turned to the shadows where Jerry¡¯s submersible blinked gently.

    "It¡¯s safe now," Simon said, voice low and steady.

    He exhaled.

    Then they moved forward¡ªtoward Upsilon, toward whatever came next.

 [24]

    They walked for a while. Simon had calculated 8.1 kilometers since their departure. Not much, but every step in the dim-lit tunnel felt like a descent into something deeper.

    Eventually, they came to a stop.

    The road ahead was sealed by a thick, rust-streaked metal gate, standing like a silent guardian.

    Simon stepped to the side of the tunnel, kneeling next to a line of aged, dust-coated cables that ran along the wall. He placed one cold, synthetic hand on the conduit. From his fingertips, the black structure gel, slithered out, wrapping itself into the cable with eerie precision.

    A pulse ran through the wires. The gate shuddered.

    With a mechanical groan, metal scraping against metal, the gate slowly descended into the floor, revealing the passage ahead.

    There it was. The tunnel beyond.

    And up ahead, half-shrouded in shadows and remnants of flickering emergency lights, was a familiar wreck: the crushed shuttle.

    The very same shuttle that had once been his ticket to Lambda.

    Simon stared at it.

    "I think it''s better it crashed," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "I don''t think I would''ve survived if it had slammed into that gate instead."

    He stepped forward, his gaze briefly flicking to the left where the wall bore a hardened crust of structure gel, solidified like old blood.

    The tunnel was damp. A shallow pool of water had gathered in a low dip¡ªjust enough to lap at his ankles.

    Beside him, the submersible swam slowly, hovering like a quiet companion. Its lights shimmered faintly on the wet walls.

    Then they reached the shuttle.

    It lay on its side, derailed and broken like a wounded beast. The metal was warped, the rails beneath torn apart. The front glass panel lay shattered before it. A memory struck Simon: he had pulled the emergency latch when the doors failed, ejecting the glass panel ahead. That moment of raw desperation.

    They walked inside and towards the rear of the shuttle.

    His right arm shifted, and with a smooth, almost liquid transition, a welding tool emerged from his wrist. He pressed the glowing tip against the cold steel. Sparks hissed, slicing through the metal in a clean, circular motion.

    The cut was precise. Just large enough.

    With a forceful kick, the back panel gave way, clanging as it fell outward.

    Simon stepped thought.

    Then, without a word, he walked on.

    <hr>

    Simon''s sensors picked up the sound before his eyes could see it¡ªfaint dragging metal, soft clanks echoing through the shuttle station''s dark halls. A swirl of electric static brushed across his whiskers¡ªmovement, erratic and unnatural.

    He froze.

    Then he saw it.

    A broken robot, crawling forward using only its arms. Its legs were gone, torn away, leaving behind twisted stumps fused with exposed servo cables and hardened gel. But what truly froze Simon in place was what lay embedded in its torso, held there by a sick cocoon of structure gel and synthetic tubing.

    A head.

    Not just any head.

    Amy Azzaro.

    Her face was changed¡ªmutated, barely recognizable from when he''d seen her last. The flesh was drawn tight in places, loose in others, stretched unnaturally by the gel. One side of her face sagged into a melted grimace, while the other was puffed and swollen, like it had been overinflated. Her left eye had fused with a glowing optical sensor, its mechanical parts twitching out of sync. Pulsing veins of structure gel crawled along her scalp like parasitic worms, embedding deeper into the bone, pulling flesh and tech together into something wrong.

    It was a horror¡ªbut it was her.

    The memory of that room in Upsilon came back with brutal force. The artificial lung, the flickering lights, her voice, asking not to die. And he had killed her anyway. Mercy, he had told himself. But that word was starting to taste like poison.

    The robot halted as it heard him. The head twitched.

    "Carl?" Amy¡¯s voice came¡ªnot from her twisted mouth, but from deep inside the machine, an echo from old, recycled speakers. ¡°Carl, is that you? Let me get this helmet off¡­¡±

    Simon stepped closer, his blades retracted.

    He slowly kneeled before her.

    ¡°Sure¡­¡± His voice came as a whisper, warbled by emotion and modulator distortion.

    Structure gel slithered from his hands as he placed his hands on her head, ready to end it, to truly grant her peace.

    But his hands trembled.

    He couldn''t.

    ''She''s alive. Somehow... she''s still alive,'' he thought, his processors sparking with conflicting impulses.

    ¡°It seems¡­ the helmet¡¯s stuck,¡± Simon lied gently, retracting the gel. ¡°Maybe we can find some tools at Upsilon to fix it.¡±

    Amy¡¯s half-mechanical head nodded with slow, creaking motions.

    ¡°Bad luck, huh? Alright. Let¡¯s go. But we should be careful, I think there are still some robots nearby.¡±

    She turned and began to drag herself forward again, metal scraping against the metal rail. Her grotesque head bobbed with every inch she moved, the pulsing gel around her temple lighting dimly.

    Simon¡¯s soul twisted.

    He had done this to her.

    He signaled Jerry¡¯s submersible, which emerged from the side tunnel.

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    ¡°Ahh, I¡¯m so slow these days,¡± Amy muttered with a warped smile.

    ¡°Maybe you''re just tired,¡± Simon replied softly. ¡°Let me help you.¡±

    Simon turned and lifted Amy carefully onto his shoulder, her broken limbs clanking.

    ¡°Thanks, Carl.¡±

    ¡°No problem, Amy¡­ no problem at all.¡±

    <hr>

    They finally reached the station.

    Simon gently lifted Jerry''s submersible onto the main platform. Its metal legs clicked softly as they adjusted to the new terrain, whirring in quiet anticipation. He followed behind, his heavy footfalls echoing in the hollow stillness of the shuttle station. All around them, remnants of the old world whispered¡ªcracked screens, half-lit panels, flickering status lights long untended.

    Across the room, a cargo shuttle sat idle, waiting. Its door creaked open at his approach, groaning like an old memory.

    Inside, the stale air smelled of rust.

    Simon stepped inside and approached a metal table, his fingers trailing over its scarred surface until they found the dusty tablet resting atop it. He picked it up and powered it on, accessing the system''s local archives.

    A video started to play in his mind.

    "Hey, Amy. It¡¯s me, Dom."

    The voice was calm but thick with unspoken fear. A man sat in front of the camera, his eyes red-rimmed, his smile tight and fragile. A white wall stood behind him, and a photo of him and Amy hung slightly crooked. The video was probably filmed in their apartment.

    "My folks... they went upstate. Took your dad with them. Said they found a shelter, somewhere safe. I stayed behind to get this out to you."

    He hesitated.

    "I know this isn¡¯t how it was supposed to go. We had dreams, right? You with Pathos-II. Me working in the labs. I thought maybe one day we¡¯d get out, settle down, live something like a normal life."

    His voice cracked.

    "I¡¯m proud of you, Amy. Still am. You chased your dream. I just wish it hadn¡¯t come to this. I love you. Stay strong. I hope you get this. Goodbye."

    The recording ended.

    Simon said nothing. He simply stared at the darkened screen as something in his chest pulled taut. This was the second time he had watched the video, but now, with Amy on his shoulder, the pain sank deeper. The guilt was heavier.

    He saved the voice data. He would need it later.

    His gaze turned toward the tunnel ahead. The main passage was partially collapsed, stone and twisted metal blocking the rails. But to the left, a narrow service tunnel opened up. Small, dark, but passable.

    He stepped out of the shuttle and landed back on the rail with a heavy thud. His sensors mapped the route ahead.

    Amy changed everything.

    Originally, Simon had planned to exit through the decompression chamber. But now... now she was with him. And he couldn¡¯t risk putting her through the pressure of open water. Whatever mutation the WAU had inflicted upon her, Simon had no way of knowing what stress her brain could endure.

    One wrong move could sever the last fragile thread keeping her alive.

    He wouldn''t let that happen.

    So the new plan was the main transport hub. The tunnel ahead would take him there. It would be sealed, sure, but no seal had ever stopped him for long.

    He made his way around the obstruction, stepping quietly through the gloom. As he passed an open doorway to the left, his sensors flared with recognition.

    There, laying motionless and forgotten, was the original body of Amy Azzaro.

    Fused entirely into the floor, she had become part of the station itself. Structure gel pulsed faintly around her chest cavity, where once two tubes had anchored her to artificial life. A decapitated relic of mercy gone wrong.

    Simon didn¡¯t linger.

    He walked past, his shoulders heavier with every step.

    The gate before him hissed open.

    He stepped forward into the tunnel, Jerry crawling dutifully behind in his submersible shell, and Amy¡ªwhat was left of her¡ªresting silently on his shoulder.

    A ghost, and a reminder of the mistake he couldn¡¯t take back.

    He would carry her now.

    All the way to the end.

    <hr>

    2.3 kilometers later, they reached the transport hub.

    The tunnel opened into a massive warehouse chamber¡ªat least 60 meters wide, and twice as long. The ceiling, lost in shadow, arched high above them, supported by ribbed steel beams like the spine of some ancient beast. The air was stagnant, laced with the sharp scent of oxidized metal and dust left undisturbed for years.

    Metallic crates, stacked like tombstones, filled the space. Each container bore the fading insignia of Upsilon¡¯s main assembly line, labeled with worn alphanumeric codes. Inside them were all manner of components¡ªservo arms, hydrotube filaments, cortex chip frames, uncut alloy sheets, and preserved vats of structure gel. The remnants of a world that had once built machines of progress, now left to rust.

    Overhead, cranes and robotic arms hung motionless. Their once-fluid joints were frozen mid-task, as though the power had been cut mid-movement. Tracks lined the walls where automated lifters once ran to unload cargo shuttles docked just outside. Time had petrified everything.

    Simon stepped up onto the main platform, lifting Jerry''s submersible with practiced ease and setting it down gently beside him. The machine clicked and hummed as it reoriented its legs, ready to scurry if needed.

    Simon climbed up after it, his sensors already sweeping through the vast warehouse. Then, a sound¡ªlow and deep. A metallic groan.

    Simon¡¯s form stiffened. He crouched and quickly ushered Jerry behind a container.

    The air trembled. Something massive was moving.

    From his palm, the snake camera unfurled, slithering over the top of the crate and peeking into the gloom.

    There it was.

    A robot unit, CRU-09 ¡°Goliath¡±¡ªhuge, towering nearly four meters high, broad and tank-like¡ªwas lumbering between the rows of containers. It was a cargo rearrangement unit, designed to lift and stack tons of material effortlessly. Its frame was bulky, with reinforced legs that made the ground shake with each step. Hydraulic arms hung at its sides, terminating in powerful industrial claws.

    A single red scanner swept back and forth from its head, casting a razor-thin beam across the room like the eye of a hunting predator. Every few steps it paused, as though listening to the stillness itself.

    The warehouse was dimly lit by half-dead emergency lights that flickered with each pulse of the robot¡¯s sensor. In the moments of darkness between flickers, its silhouette almost seemed to vanish¡ªonly to reappear again, closer.

    Simon and Jerry were completely still, tucked into the crate¡¯s shadow.

    Simon pressed his back against the cold metal crate, his sensors flickering in silent panic.

    "What''s happening? Why are you so quiet?" Amy''s voice rang out. Not from her mouth, but from some internal speaker, broadcast like a broken radio tuned too loudly.

    "Shh¡ª"

    Simon instinctively reached for her, to cover her mouth, but stopped. There was nothing there to silence.

    Across the warehouse, the CRU-09 halted mid-step. Its towering frame turned slowly. The red scanner across its face bathed the crates in eerie light. Every pulse of that beam sent a spike through Simon¡¯s nerves.

    It moved.

    Massive arms with reinforced hydraulics pushed crates aside like paper boxes. Simon ducked lower, heart pounding in his ears.

    The Goliath paused just above them. Simon held perfectly still. Even Amy''s light sensors dimmed, as if she instinctively understood.

    A beat.

    Then another.

    The CRU-09 straightened and lumbered away, its footfalls rattling the floor.

    Simon exhaled, or mimicked the sensation.

    "Amy, please¡ªdon''t speak again until we''re clear. There''s a CRU-09 patrolling."

    Amy  gave a slow, creaking nod.

    They continued moving, step by agonizing step through the maze of crates and flickering shadows. It felt like walking through a graveyard. Every corner could hold death. But finally, they reached the far side¡ªthe exit.

    Simon extended his hand toward the control panel. His structure gel surged forward, interfacing with the rusted port. The door hissed open.

    A glowing red eye greeted them.

    A construct.

    It shrieked, a horrible, metallic screech that echoed through the entire warehouse.

    Before it could leap, Simon acted. His foot connected with its chest, launching it backward into the hallway beyond.

    Alarms blared inside his mind. The CRU-09 was coming.

    "Run!"

    He Jerry¡¯s submersible and rushed through the open door. Behind them, the construct was twitching, its joints sparking as it tried to rise.

    The door slammed shut.

    Then the thunder began.

    BOOM.

    The CRU-09 smashed into the door like a god of iron and wrath. BOOM. BOOM. The whole hallway trembled. Simon turned.

    The construct lunged again.

    Simon didn¡¯t hesitate.

    His right arm shifted¡ªstructure gel slithering back to reveal the Tesla Cannon beneath. It whined as it charged. The hallway lit with searing white light as the weapon fired.

    The beam carved through the dim corridor and struck the construct¡¯s head. Sparks erupted. The body jerked once¡ªthen collapsed, sliding lifeless to Simon¡¯s feet.

    His arm retracted, morphing back into its original shape.

    "Carl, what was that?!" Amy asked, her glowing eyes wide, voice unsteady.

    "Shh," Simon whispered, finger to his helmet.

    Silence again. Then one last BOOM.

    The door finally gave way.

    The CRU-09''s red light scanned the area, pausing on the dead construct. Then, after a few agonizing seconds ,it turned¡ªand continued its patrol.

    Simon stood against the wall, motionless, his snake camera still peering down the hallway.

    He looked over at Amy and Jerry¡¯s submersible.

    Simon raised his eyes to the ceiling.

    "Almost there," he whispered, voice fraying at the edges.

 [25]

    Simon followed the map downloaded into his mind, weaving through dim corridors lit only by the occasional flicker of failing emergency lights. On their way, they encountered more constructs, but Simon dispatched them with practiced precision¡ªa slash of a blade, a burst of electricity, and the silence returned.

    The next door opened with a hiss. Simon stepped through.

    Jerry rested within the submersible, magnetically sealed to his back, while Amy hung in his arms like a memory he couldn''t set down.

    His scanners swept the space.

    A familiar storage room.

    Shelves packed with orderly rows of components lined the walls. It was narrow, cramped, claustrophobic. To the right, his sensors locked onto something embedded in the wall: a decapitated body, fused in with structure gel and metal like a grotesque mural.

    Simon stepped closer. Last time he had been here he had just grabbed the omni tool laying on a nearby table and quickly run away, scared of one of the constructs rooming around, but right now he could at least cheek out who this person had been. The diving suit was intact enough to scan. He connected to it, curious to retrieve identification data¡ªonly to freeze.

    No match.

    "What?" Simon murmured aloud.

    Amy stirred slightly in his arms, her warped voice rising. "What''s the matter, Carl?"

    "That suit... its serial number isn''t in the database."

    Amy processed this, then offered, "Maybe the gel mutated it? Wiped the registry?"

    "Could be," Simon said, though something about it gnawed at him. He reached into his back compartment and drew out a DNA extractor. The device hissed softly as it drew a sample from the stump of the neck.

    The result came back seconds later.

    No match in the Pathos-II crew medical database. DNA integrity: Normal.

    Simon stared.

    "This person wasn''t part of the crew," he said slowly.

    "That''s impossible," Amy said. "No other facility was ever close enough to Pathos-II to make contact. No one could''ve just walked here."

    Simon stood up and looked again at the body. Not mutated. Not logged. Just... there.

    He would think about it later.

    He turned and walked out, entering a larger chamber. Overhead, tracks lined the ceiling. BULL (UH3) units¡ªsubmersible robots¡ªhung from reinforced hooks like dormant beasts. Their bulk swayed slightly in the cold recycled air.

    Simon passed beneath them and followed the corridor to the main thermal power plant door. He paused.

    "I wouldn''t open that," Amy warned, her voice tinny but sincere. "There were constructs on the other side."

    Last time, Simon had crawled through vents to reach the core.

    But that was then.

    Now?

    He wasn¡¯t the same.

    Simon lowered Amy gently to the floor beside the wall.

    "Stay here."

    He released Jerry¡¯s submersible. It unfolded its segmented legs and crawled to Amy¡¯s side.

    Simon turned to the door.

    The reinforced locks clunked, disengaged, and the blast doors opened with a thunderous hiss.

    A wave of metal and shrieks greeted him.

    Four constructs.

    Two had fused into a twisted quadruped, its limbs jerking in sync like a malfunctioning animal. The other two skittered forward on multi-jointed legs, their bodies riddled with exposed circuitry and burning blue eyes.

    Simon didn¡¯t flinch.

    His right arm twisted and clicked, reshaping itself into the Tesla cannon.

    FIRE.

    A searing arc of white-hot energy lanced through the air and struck the quadruped in the face. It convulsed, screaming as its fused body collapsed with a bone-jarring clatter.

    The other two constructs lunged.

    Simon moved.

    Time slowed, each detail crystallized.

    His cannon retracted. Twin nanoceramic blades extended from both arms with a slick hiss.

    He chose not the most efficient route.

    But the most satisfying.

    He dashed forward, ducking beneath the first construct¡¯s clawed swipe. The air split as his right blade carved upward through its arm, severing it cleanly at the shoulder joint. Sparks flew like fireflies.

    The second construct tackled him from the side, but Simon rolled with the impact, using the momentum to stab upward through its abdomen, slicing its frame nearly in half.

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    It writhed, trying to scream.

    Simon yanked the blade free and plunged it through its head.

    The first construct, maimed but not dead, charged again¡ªscreeching, dragging a mangled limb behind it.

    Simon let it get close.

    At the last second, he shifted his right forearm¡ªthe blade retracting, replaced by his repulsion cannon.

    THUD.

    The blast launched the construct backward into the far wall. It hit with a crunch and slumped, inert.

    Silence returned.

    Simon stood in the center of the chamber, his blades dripping with blackened oil, chest heaving in quiet, mechanical rhythm.

    Then he turned and walked back to Amy.

    The corridor ahead led to the control core.

    It was time to take the powerplant for himself.

    As they reached the end of the corridor, Simon sent the signal for the door to open. The reinforced steel panels groaned¡ªbut refused to budge.

    "There''s something blocking it," Simon said flatly, eyes scanning the panel.

    "If I remember correctly," Amy''s voice crackled softly, "we sealed it on the other side¡ªwith metal beams and bolts."

    Simon slowly turned his head toward her. "Wouldn''t it have been easier to tell me that before I tried to open it?"

    Amy blinked, her mechanical optic twitching. "I forgot."

    Simon sighed¡ªnot with frustration, but with weary acceptance. Of course she had.

    "It''s fine," he muttered, and gently set her down beside the bulkhead.

    His right arm shifted with a subtle hiss, modular segments sliding apart as the welding torch extended from beneath the synthetic plating. Sparks showered the corridor as he began cutting a precise circle into the middle of the door.

    When the final piece gave way, Simon stepped back and used his magnetic palms to pull the metal disc free. Through the opening, a lattice of crisscrossed beams glinted in the dim light¡ªthick, bolted from the other side.

    "Just a bit more."

    He lifted Jerry¡¯s submersible and placed it at the opening. The machine responded instantly¡ªits segmented legs anchoring to the frame with magnetic ease. A welding torch unfolded from its back, lighting the narrow gap with a bright, searing glow.

    Bit by bit, the beams gave way.

    A loud clatter marked the final obstruction falling free.

    The door creaked open.

    A wave of heat brushed against Simon¡¯s faceplate.

    They stood on a raised balcony overlooking the throbbing heart of the geothermal plant. Below, the earth fell away into a wide shaft¡ªdozens of meters deep¡ªwhere molten rock pulsed in steady orange light. Pipes and supports crisscrossed the pit like veins, and turbines thrummed with mechanical breath. The air shimmered from the heat.

    Despite all that had happened, the plant still lived.

    Simon lifted Amy once more and turned toward the right. The old control room waited just a few steps ahead.

    Inside, dim auxiliary lights cast soft halos on control panels and thick cables that had long since stopped carrying power. But something else caught his eye.

    A mutated maintenance drone lay half-collapsed near the control frame. Its legs were mismatched, grafted from different unit models, and covered in fossilized structure gel. Simon knelt beside it.

    He pressed his hand to its warped chassis. The systems flickered¡ªbarely alive. But that wasn¡¯t what he was after.

    The cortex chip embedded deep inside.

    He surged power through his palm. The structure gel slithered away from the slot, melting like wax in his presence. A compartment clicked open.

    He pulled the chip free.

    "I''m sorry for what I did, but I promise, I¡¯ll bring you back," he whispered to the silence.

    Then he rose and turned to face the console.

    A cluster of hardened structure gel loomed at the panel¡¯s center, like a dormant heart.

    He turned to Amy, who sat propped against the frame.

    "I¡¯m going to need to concentrate for a few minutes," Simon said. "Please don¡¯t speak. I might not hear you."

    Amy¡¯s distorted head bobbed once, her voice soft. "Take your time."

    Simon gave a small nod.

    He moved to Jerry¡¯s submersible resting beside the wall, reached into the compartment on his back, and pulled out a sealed ration biscuit. He placed it into the submersible¡¯s hatch. The panel sealed shut with a soft hiss.

    Jerry chirped.

    Simon squared his stance.

    He reached out and placed his hand against the structure gel cluster.

    He sent a pulse of energy into it.

    The cluster twitched. Then it began to glow.

    Simon took one last breath¡ªwhatever breath meant now¡ªand pushed his hand deeper.

    The folds opened to receive him.

    Structure gel slid around his wrist, his forearm, embedding itself into the synthetic musculature of his body.

    And then¡ª

    He connected.

    The world shifted.

    Simon had become Upsilon.

    The structure gel poured through every corridor, seeped into every seam, and crawled through every shattered wire. No longer just a contagion or rogue element¡ªit had become skin, muscle, and nerve. It was Simon. He could feel the hum of turbines, the whir of magnetic coils, the flicker of surveillance feeds. He felt everything. Every valve. Every servo. Every whisper of decaying power.

    The entire facility was alive, and its heartbeat was his.

    He pulsed a magnetic wave through the network. The response was immediate. All across the facility, corrupted machines froze¡ªtwitched¡ªand dropped. One by one, rogue constructs collapsed to the ground, lights fading like dying stars. The screeching, the stuttering voices, the flailing limbs¡ªit all ended in silence. A silence that belonged to him.

    Next, he reached into the systems of the CRU-09. The towering colossus of steel that had once patrolled the warehouse now stood dormant. Simon infiltrated its subsystems like a shadow slipping through cracks in the wall. With a flicker of intent, he shut it down, wiped the memory grid, and initiated a clean reboot.

    The unit stirred.

    Simon opened his eyes¡ªthrough it. The view was distorted through its thick sensors, but the sense of scale was intoxicating. His massive hands flexed, metal fingers groaning as they closed and opened. He looked down. Rows of crates shifted like pebbles beneath a titan¡¯s step.

    Then came the revival.

    Throughout the facility, long-dead maintenance units stirred. Each awakening like a soul rising from a tomb.

    A spider-drone hidden beneath dust and collapsed ceiling tiles unfolded its segmented legs, crawling out like an insect returning to light.

    A half-buried loader twitched and groaned as its power core flared to life, lifting its heavy arms as if stretching after centuries of sleep.

    An old rail-arm suspended from the ceiling clicked, rotated, and activated its scanner.

    Simon guided them gently¡ªno orders shouted, no code forced. Just a whisper of purpose shared through the network.

    Arc welders ignited. Cranes swung back into position. Lift systems reengaged. Teams of drones moved in unison, reattaching cables, reinforcing crumbling walls, replacing cracked conduits. Old infrastructure was resurrected piece by piece.

    Outside, even more emerged. Shattered tunnel supports were re-welded. Tram lines cleared. Emergency doors unjammed. What once lay in ruin now stood on the edge of resurrection.

    But Simon was not content with repair.

    He watched as drones dragged the disabled rogue constructs to the processing  chambers. Each one was scanned, cataloged, laid bare. He would inspect them all. Manually. Personally. Each cortex chip examined for signs of retained consciousness.

    Maybe some were still in there.

    Maybe they hadn¡¯t all gone mad.

    At the same time, Simon began building something new.

    A new type of drone¡ªdesigned specifically to reclaim structure gel.

    Arachnid in shape, reminiscent of Solipsist constructs, each had a long segmented proboscis capable of siphoning the gel from walls, machines, and corrupted bodies. He watched as the first prototypes were assembled. Limbs clicked into place. Scanners calibrated. They emerged from the assembly bays in single file, fanning out across the site to begin their harvest.

    Simon returned to his own body. The transition was smooth, fluid. As if stepping into warm water.

    Amy sat against the console, her glowing optic casting dim reflections across the control panel. Her gaze wandered, chasing ghosts.

    Jerry slept in his submersible beside her.

    Hours passed.

    Simon continued his work, the gel shifting beneath his hands like clay responding to will.

    Entire wings of the facility were still locked off. Rooms long rendered obsolete now waited for new purpose. Some would become energy storage vaults. Others memory cores. Others still would be reshaped into  labs for new technologies.

    The station was changing.

    This was no longer a ruin.

    It was a chrysalis.

    Simon had seized the dead shell of the old world and begun sculpting it into something new.

    It would take days. Maybe longer.

    But what he was building now wasn¡¯t just a base.

    It was a future.