(Romancing the Beat – "The Dark Night of the Soul")
They say it's the quiet moments that make you lose your mind. Not the explosions, the betrayals, or the scary-as-hell government agencies hunting you down.
Nope. It's the quiet moments. That's where the demons really get you.
---
So, let's take a moment to recap: my life is a disaster, my sister just turned up out of nowhere with life-shattering revelations, I've got a ticking clock in my brain, and my only option is to hunt down a mad scientist who might hold the key to unlocking my brain—before it fries itself.
Yeah. It's a lot. But at least there's tea, right?
---
Flash forward to the next morning.
Renna's tech scan picked up the location of the "scientist" we need to find. He's been living off the grid for years, somewhere in a place that sounds like it was pulled out of a dystopian survival guide.
The address: Chicken Coop Central.
That's not a metaphor, by the way. It's literally a chicken coop.
Elia's rolling her eyes, clearly unamused. "This is where we're going?"
"Yes," Renna says. "And you can't argue with me, because I have a scanner that will find you if you try to run."
Elia makes an exaggerated gesture to the back of the truck, where I'm holding onto Gary like he's my emotional support plant. "Fine. But if I get chicken poop on my boots, I'm blaming you."
"Chicken poop is the least of our worries," Renna mutters, typing furiously on her portable console. "If this guy is who we think he is, we're going to need more than a few disinfectant wipes."
---
And then, of course, we arrive.
I had high hopes for a secret underground lab. Or maybe a decoy mansion with a hidden trapdoor. Something cool, like in the spy movies. But no. Instead, we're standing in front of what looks like a run-down farmhouse with a giant chicken coop in the backyard.
I can't help it. I burst out laughing.
"This is it?" I say, still laughing. "The man who holds the key to my brain is hiding in a chicken coop?"
Renna sighs, looking entirely unamused. "Not the time, Gray."
"Right. Sorry," I say, wiping tears from my eyes. "I'm just imagining him sitting in there, petting chickens like they're his evil minions. 'Ah, yes. The world will fall under the reign of... Cluckington!'"
"Elia, hold her," Renna says dryly.
Elia grins and grabs me by the arm. "Alright, alright. You're making me laugh too, but let's get to this before you get us all arrested for disturbing the peace."
---
Inside the Coop.
Surprisingly, it's not full of chickens. Just old lab equipment, papers, and what appears to be a very unimpressed cat.
A figure in the back of the room is hunched over a table, scribbling something on a chalkboard covered in complex equations. His hair is a mess, his clothes are mismatched, and he looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in years.
He doesn't even turn around when we enter. "You're late."
"We weren't exactly working with good directions," Renna says, crossing her arms. "And you're living in a chicken coop. Really?"
The scientist looks over his shoulder. "It's all about minimizing distractions."
Then he finally turns around. He's younger than I thought—mid-thirties, maybe. But his eyes? Those are the eyes of a man who's seen far too much. It's unsettling.
"You must be Gray," he says, pointing at me. "I've been expecting you."
I blink. "Well, that's comforting."
He pushes a greasy lock of hair from his forehead. "The neural encryption. It's in your head. I can crack it, but you won't like it. It's not pretty."
"I'm not really interested in pretty," I say, trying not to sound as terrified as I feel. "Just fix me."
"I'm not fixing anything," he says with a small grin. "I'm opening a door. What comes out of it is anyone's guess."
---
While the scientist sets up his equipment—more wires, screens, and machines that look like they came straight out of an alien horror movie—I sneak a glance at Renna.
She's standing near the door, arms folded, scanning the area like she expects someone to burst in and ruin our whole day.
Elia, however, is casually sitting on a pile of old newspapers, completely unfazed by the chaos around us. Her eyes meet mine.
"Remember," she says quietly, "no matter what happens, you're not alone."
I nod, trying not to think about the fact that my brain could implode at any moment.
---
The procedure begins.
The mad scientist hooks me up to a machine that looks like a mix between a dental chair and a torture device. He clicks some buttons, pulls a lever, and then—well, the world goes weird.
It starts as a faint hum in my ears. Then, bright lights flash behind my eyelids, and suddenly, I'm there. Not in the room anymore. I'm somewhere else—somewhere familiar.
A memory.
I'm in a lab, younger, surrounded by white walls and cold, clinical machinery. There's a man—he looks like someone I should know, but I can't place him.
"Gray," he says. "You have to remember. You have to unlock the code."
The memory starts glitching, twisting, until the man's face distorts, and the whole scene shatters like glass.
---
I jerk awake.
The machine is beeping like it's gone haywire. Sweat's dripping down my face.
"Gray!" Renna says, rushing to my side. "You okay?"
I take a deep breath, still rattled. "I—I saw something. A man. In the lab. He told me to unlock the code. It was like… a flashback, but it didn't feel like a memory."
The scientist pulls off his gloves and sighs. "I warned you. Your brain is a minefield of bad data."
"Well, can you at least tell me who the guy was?" I ask, trying to pull myself together.
He taps a few buttons. "That's not a memory. It's a trigger. A warning."
"What does that mean?" I ask, panic starting to rise.
"You don't remember him, do you?" he says, narrowing his eyes. "That was your father."
---
And just like that, everything flips.
"Wait," I say, feeling like the floor just dropped out beneath me. "My father?"
Renna's face pales. "Are you sure?"
The scientist looks grim. "It's possible he's the one who designed the neural encryption in the first place."
I feel like I'm going to be sick.