The lullaby continued.
Always the same four sentences.
the same rhythm.
And only a soft voice rises throughout
Corridors...
Until this white room.
The same silence.
The same immaculate walls.
A huge grey door separated the room from a corridor bathed in pale light.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, a young girl stared into space.
Ela.
Her hair fell in front of her face.
She was no longer crying.
She was no longer trembling.
Her hands simply rested on her knees.
Facing her...
This mask has smooth lines.
Silent.
He waited, placing his long fingers on hers.
Without impatience.
Without any apparent threat.
As if he already knew that time was on his side.
The young girl slowly raised her eyes.
The mask approached.
He stopped in front of her.
Very close.
In the past, it would have retreated.
She would have rejected his presence.
Today...
She remains still.
A calm voice resonated.
– N-...
He said this in an almost inaudible whisper.
Ela did not reply.
She didn't protest either; she just looked at him wearily.
The mask tilted its head slightly.
As if to check something, he turned abruptly as if he had perceived something invisible, but…
He turned away immediately, his fingers brushing against a strand of ELA's hair.
No reaction.
The contact now seemed to be accepted.
A long silence ensued.
Then the voice resumed.
Always gentle.
Still devoid of emotion.
– Grown up, long hair, cut?
Ela lowered her head slightly.
Her lips parted slightly.
But no sound came out.
The mask continued.
– Good news for you, you have painful memories, goodbye.
He paused.
– to make it disappear, I'll help you leave.
Ela's eyes flickered.
As if these words awakened something.
An image.
A voice.
Pain.
Then everything became calm again.
The masked man gently placed a hand against her shoulder.
– little boy, found, here your friend, boy you speak come home.
Ela slowly closed her eyes.
His breathing was regular.
The mask resumed speaking in an almost maternal voice.
– I, your mother, will bring you together so that you will be happy...
A second of silence.
– My little me.
No smile appeared on Ela's face.
The mask seemed disturbed or disturbing.
– You no longer love a boy?
Not a single tear either.
– Boy Sigma-0, you talk about him all the time
Only this strange absence answered him.
As if every emotion had been stored behind a carefully closed door.
The mask remained near her but seemed stung and disturbed by this new wave.
He wouldn't stop.
Without taking his eyes off her.
very gently...
He sits back down and takes her in his arms.
The same melody that Chetan had heard rose in the room.
A lullaby.
Always the same four sentences.
Repeated again.
And again.
She remained motionless.
With eyes closed.
His breathing now followed the rhythm of the song exactly.
Behind the glass, several white figures observed the scene without intervening.
No words were exchanged.
Only the screens projected a succession of curves and numbers.
Their gaze shifted from Ela to the measuring instruments.
As if every reaction had been anticipated.
As if this experiment were following a perfectly controlled protocol.
Far from this room...
In another wing of the complex...
This utopia was becoming a reality