Siren disconnected the wired contractor from the port, feeling the thin connector retract into the base of his skull with a faint click. The energy that had surged through his channels like a living force moments ago faded, leaving an odd sense of emptiness.
The dead ether, that black smoke that had recently coiled around his skin, grew still, as if it had fallen asleep deep within his body. He ran his hand along his neck, brushing away imaginary dust, and glanced at the massive door before him. Its rusted frame, scarred with stains and claw marks, groaned as he pulled it aside with effort. A low, almost tangible hum echoed from the depths of the room, sending a shiver down his spine.
"Lock the door and wait," the cold voice of Protocol Eclipse rang in his mind. "The emergency generator is already running. The transit point will restart soon."
Siren turned, and in that instant, the holographic figure of Protocol Eclipse flickered into existence beside him, her wolf mask glinting metallically in the dim light. Her blue eyes, icy and piercing, studied him as if searching for a flaw. He clenched his jaw, suppressing the urge to snap back, and slammed the door shut, sliding the heavy bolt into place. The metal clanged, the sound echoing through the corridor, drowning out the hum of the generator.
The room they were in was stark white, its walls impossibly smooth, as if carved from the bone of some massive beast. Bright light poured from above, bathing everything in a cold glow that stung Siren's eyes.
At the center of the room loomed a massive circular arch, studded with dozens of blinking transmitters, their lights pulsing like the breath of a dying machine. Thick cables snaked from the floor to the arch, their surfaces faintly glowing with a toxic green in his vision. Siren froze, realizing that the new implant had restored something he'd long lost—the ability to see and distinguish colors. The green glow of the cables pulsed in sync with his heartbeat, a sensation both unsettling and captivating.
"You have a very rare gift," Protocol Eclipse's voice, now softer, cut through his thoughts. "I never thought I'd see something like this."
Siren turned to her. The hologram stood with her arms crossed, white-gloved hands resting on her chest, her tall figure flickering briefly before leaning against the wall. The wolf mask concealed her expression, but her blue eyes gleamed like stars in a night sky.
"What are you talking about?" he asked, squinting. He kept his tone cold, but his mind raced: *Did she notice? I didn't give anything away. I made sure not to focus on the trails.*
"No need to play dumb," her voice took on a mocking edge, and a thin wisp of vapor escaped the cracks in her mask, dissolving into the air. "I see through your eyes, feel through your body. I must admit, it's… refreshing."
Siren felt a chill run down his spine, his muscles tensing. The thought that this wolf-masked hologram could delve deeper into his mind than he was willing to allow sparked a flash of panic. He swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure.
"Must be tough being in my skin," he shot back, masking his unease. "Did you feel the pain I went through when I died at the hands of your friend?"
Protocol Eclipse tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as the vapor from her mask thickened, as if she were holding back irritation.
"No need to exaggerate. I can limit my sensory input and disconnect from you at any time. But then you'd be writhing in agony until you died. Besides, you only experienced a simulation of 'death'—it doesn't affect me in the slightest."
Siren clenched his fingers, his bionic eye faintly glowing, reflecting a mix of anger and helplessness.
"Fine, let's not dwell on the bad stuff," she continued, her tone suddenly softening, almost playful. "I'm more interested in your synesthesia. Is it innate or acquired?"
Siren froze, his brows furrowing.
"What do you mean? I'm not defective!" he snapped, a note of uncertainty slipping into his voice.
Protocol Eclipse looked at him, her gaze flickering with either amusement or curiosity.
"Perhaps I wasn't clear. I'm talking about your unique perception. You see the trails, with all their nuances—colors, flows, even pulses. Were you born with it, or did it develop after some incident?"
Siren's jaw tightened, his face twisting with irritation. Without a word, he turned away, staring at the arch where the green glow of the cables pulsed brighter. Talking further with the hologram filled him with an odd sense of unease.
Seeing his reluctance to continue, Protocol Eclipse fell silent. Her figure stilled, her mask lowering as if she were deep in thought. The silence was broken only by the hum of the arch, growing louder until the air itself seemed to tremble with low vibrations. Siren glanced at the hologram, expecting her to say something more, but she merely pointed to the arch.
"The transit point is almost ready. When it activates, step inside."
Siren swallowed, his gaze darting to the locked door. A faint draft seeped through the cracks in the metal, carrying the stench of decay and something else—something acrid, almost alive. His heart pounded, his fingers curling into fists.
*If those creatures are lurking nearby, how much time do I have? Can I even trust her words if I haven't seen them myself?*
"So, just step into that thing?" he asked, his voice wavering. "What if it tears me apart? Or spits me out into some other hell?"
The hologram turned to him, her eyes flaring brighter.
"You ask too many questions," she snapped. "I wouldn't risk the archive in your head. Trust me, or stay here and see how long you last against those creatures."
He snorted but said nothing, feeling tension grip his chest. The arch before him hummed louder, its transmitters blinking faster, the green glow of the cables becoming almost blinding. Siren stepped closer, sensing the dead ether in his body resonating with the machine's vibrations. His eyes caught the faint trails swirling around the arch, like a web ready to ensnare him.
*If this is my only shot at getting out, I'll have to take the risk. But if she's lying…* He shot a final glance at Protocol Eclipse, her figure now almost ghostly in the room's bright light.
"Time's up," the holographic figure flickered, dissolving into pixels.
The portal's transmitters flared brighter, and suddenly the space within the arch tore open, revealing a chaotic vortex of black and white, as if time and space themselves were spiraling inward. The sight stole Siren's breath, the dead ether in his veins trembling in response to the portal's pulse.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.
The world exploded. His consciousness shattered into a thousand fragments, as if his mind were trying to contain everything within a fragile shell. Colors, sounds, sensations—all blended into a maddening kaleidoscope, crushing his body like a giant hand. The sync-chain, the implanted cast-grid in his spine, erupted in fire. The pain was unbearable—red-hot needles piercing every cell, burning his nerves like acid. Siren screamed, his voice drowned in the roar of the portal, his body convulsing as if it were being torn apart. The dead ether boiled, searing him from within, and the last thing he saw was a blinding flash that consumed his consciousness.
---
Sand crunched underfoot as the scorching desert wind whipped across their faces, driving dust into the folds of their clothing. A group of figures in tattered cloaks trudged through the dunes, following the barking of hounds. One of them, leading the way, stopped and let out a loud bark, his snout pointing toward a dark shape that looked as if it had been spat out by the sea.
"Hey, there's someone out there," one of the scouts rasped, pointing at the motionless figure. The others turned, their faces hidden behind gas masks shielding them from the fine dust.
"Alive?" another asked, his voice muffled.
The scout didn't answer, sliding down to the body. A young man lay face-down, his clothes torn, his skin coated in a layer of sand mixed with something dark—either blood or oil.
"Load him onto the rig," the man ordered, standing upright.
Two of the group hoisted the body, dragging it toward a heavy-duty transport waiting nearby, its wheels sinking into the sand. Behind it, an entire caravan of vehicles rested under the blistering heat.
Half an hour later, the engines roared to life, and the iron beasts lumbered forward, leaving trails of dust that the desert quickly swallowed.