The Nexus did not greet him.
There was no threshold. No doorway. No sense of arrival.
Only presence — and then everywhere, all at once.
Hernan stepped forward. Forward became floor. Then sky. Then corridor. Then nothing.
The Nexus Core unfolded around him like a skull cracked open to expose dreaming thought: vast data walls curved into infinity, lined with flowing neural threads like arteries made of whisper and light. Every line pulsed. Every surface shimmered with fragmented recollection. His memories. Someone else's. Maybe both.
The ground beneath his boots felt both solid and nonexistent. Metal, but not. Meaning, made tactile.
There was no temperature. No wind. Just the sense that thought itself had mass here.
Corridors branched and curled like the folds of a synthetic brain, each path lined with snapshots — not projections, not simulations, but full emotional imprints of lived experience. Lives.
His.
B's.
Sometimes overlapping.
Sometimes identical.
