(Viewpoint: Beta-2)
The door closes behind me.
The click echoes in the white corridor, dry, clean.
No vibration.
No imperfections.
I stopped with my forehead against the wall.
– I feel sad now.
It wasn't long before she came out and walked ahead of me.
His steps follow one another with precision, regular, calibrated.
I slipped to her right, moving forward at the same pace as her.
Asmara
Silent.
A bit too much.
Something... persists within me, even though I haven't had the time to get to know it. Today I feel as if I am facing a being unknown to me.
I turn my gaze.
Her hair was straight and white, her eyes precise and empty.
They make me very uncomfortable.
– Chetan's interface issued a report before disappearing.
My voice is low.
She did not respond immediately.
One step.
Then two.
"And where was he?" she said.
Her voice is calm. Very smooth.
I stare at his back for a brief moment.
– close to the outside world.
– I see.
No emotion. No hesitation.
– it's dangerous, it's lower than the pit.
She tilts her head slightly.
- Exactly .
Silence.
We are making progress.
The corridor continues, identical to itself. White walls. Uniform light.
But I know.
Something doesn't add up.
She stops.
So I'll stop too.
– Roum .
The word remains suspended.
A door turns green.
She places her hand on the panel.
A warning light turns red.
But the door opens.
[CORRECT PASSWORDS, INCOMPATIBLE FINGERTIPS]
The air changes immediately.
Heavier.
Colder.
A metallic smell knocked me flat.
The room is large.
Much larger than the previous ones.
Structures rise in the shadows. Cables. Columns. Suspended interfaces.
And at the most visible center of everything
A tank.
Vertical.
Transparent.
Filled with a dense liquid.
Slow.
Almost motionless.
Inside
A body
Alpha-1
She was suspended.
Inert.
Her eyes are closed.
Her skin is pale.
Perfect.
No visible injuries.
Just... stopped.
I'm not going any closer.
CLACK !
A noise behind us caught my attention. I turned my head.
His.
An Old Man dressed in pale grey
Sitting near a console.
Curve.
Her fingers glide across a luminous surface, without ever hesitating.
– You are late.
His voice is hoarse.
Worn out.
I'm stepping forward.
– What's going on?
He gives a slight smile.
Joyless.
– It's her.
His gaze briefly rests on a vat.
– That could work.
I'm backing away.
– you explain it to me.
He sighs.
As if the answer were obvious.
He turns his head away and returns to his keys.
My gaze drifts towards Asmara.
She doesn't move.
– Is it ready?
The old man chuckled weakly.
- Always.
He slowly gets up and approaches the vat.
Place one hand against the surface.
– It will take longer than expected.
He lightly taps the glass.
– But it works.
Silence.
A liquid flows inside, barely rippling.
As if he wasn't reacting.
– I'm having trouble following you, I think I'm going to leave.
I said.
The old man nods his head.
- Obviously.
– done
I walked backwards.
– I'm going
Silence
They weren't even looking at me. Honestly.
My fingers finally touch the door, but it vibrates and pushes me away.
The way people look at you changes.
Heavier.
More real.
I'm not asking the question.
No need.
I already know.
But Asmara speaks.
– The deadline?
The old man shrugs slightly.
– 1 p.m.
An invisible shiver runs down my spine.
Even the air seems to slow down.
I'm looking at the tank.
Love Poems.
Her blue eyes and her smile that stared at me
– I can go and retrieve them from the area.
I said.
– I would go alone if he does.
– No.
I turn my head.
The old man slowly shook his head.
– Too predictable
He taps the screen.
I see it.
Again.
This slight discrepancy.
– Get ready.
The old man returns to his console.
– we need you.