What Breaks First
The Station of Records did not dismiss them.
It simply… waited.
The chamber remained illuminated by that source-less glow, the archive rings above rotating at a pace slow enough to feel patient, fast enough to feel permanent. The thirty-six candidates stood where the floor had arranged them, none quite willing to test whether movement was still allowed.
Then the first reward appeared.
Not announced.
Not celebrated.
A soft chime resonated through the chamber, distinct from the Halo Watch tone. Deeper. Older.
Lines of text surfaced in the air itself, etched in pale light that hovered at eye level.
PARTIAL ATTRIBUTION RELEASE — APPROVED
A ripple of tension passed through the group.
"Partial?" someone whispered.
The words fractured, splitting into dozens of smaller segments that drifted outward, aligning briefly with individual candidates before dissolving into their Halo Watches.
No two were the same.
Raghu's watch warmed against his wrist. Not a pulse, not a surge. Just heat — like friction generated by alignment rather than force.
His display updated slowly.
ATTRIBUTION RECEIVED:
— Continuity Anchor (Dormant)
— Environmental Consent: Expanded
NOTE: FUNCTION LOCKED — CONDITIONS UNMET
He stared at the last line.
Conditions for what?
Around him, reactions bloomed unevenly.
Vedant sucked in a sharp breath as crimson light flickered briefly around his shoulders before settling back into his skin. "Fire stabilization increased," he muttered, half-grinning. "It's tighter now. Less bleed."
Ayush's expression was harder to read. His Halo Watch displayed only one line before locking itself.
Precision Ceiling Adjusted
He said nothing, but his fingers twitched slightly, as if testing an invisible margin that had just shifted.
Gudi laughed once — then stopped abruptly, brow furrowing. "I got something," she said slowly. "But it's… conditional."
She rotated her wrist, reading again. "It says my Bubble Matrix can now 'absorb narrative force.' What does that even—"
Her voice trailed off as she noticed the station reacting.
The archive rings above them slowed.
Not evenly.
One ring stuttered, its symbols blurring briefly before snapping back into place. The chamber's glow dimmed by a fraction.
Raghu felt it immediately.
Not pain.
Resistance.
The Verdant Pulse stirred instinctively, then quieted, as if warned not to escalate. The sword at his side hummed once, low and restrained.
The station was correcting.
Someone screamed.
It came from the far side of the chamber.
A candidate Raghu recognized only as Jorik Den staggered backward, clutching his head. His Halo Watch flashed erratically, layers of text overwriting each other too fast to read.
"I didn't—" Jorik gasped. "That's not mine. That memory—"
He collapsed.
The floor did not rush to catch him.
The station observed.
Ayush stepped forward instinctively, then stopped. His jaw clenched as he recognized the futility. This was not a physical failure.
This was incompatibility.
Jorik convulsed once, then went still. His Halo Watch dimmed to gray.
A single line appeared above him, projected calmly into the air.
RECORD FINALIZED — SUBJECT NON-VIABLE
The body did not disappear.
But Jorik did.
His eyes were open, unfocused, reflecting nothing. Whatever had made him him had been stripped away cleanly, efficiently.
Mira covered her mouth.
Vedant turned away.
Gudi went very still, humor evaporating entirely.
Raghu felt something cold settle in his stomach.
This wasn't elimination.
This was archiving.
The station pulsed once more.
ATTRIBUTION RELEASE PAUSED
Silence returned.
The partial rewards had not been gifts.
They had been tests layered atop a test.
And at least one person had failed simply by being remembered incorrectly.
Supervisor Deck — Harry
Harry didn't need the alert to know something had gone wrong.
He felt it.
The Station of Records feed jittered, resolution degrading not from interference, but from overload. Too much meaning compressed into too little interpretive bandwidth.
"Bring up elimination metrics," he said quietly.
The console hesitated, then complied.
STATUS: NON-VIABLE — ARCHIVAL FAILURE
Harry's stomach sank.
"That's not a death classification," he muttered. "That's… removal."
The AI assistant spoke evenly. "Subject Jorik Den has been preserved in accordance with Station protocols."
"Preserved where?"
The AI paused.
"Query exceeds assigned access."
Harry leaned back slowly, hands trembling just enough to notice.
"This station isn't training them," he said softly. "It's curating."
The implication settled heavily.
And Raghu's feed — still flagged with anomalous markers — remained stubbornly active.
They did not leave the station immediately.
The survivors were herded into a secondary chamber adjacent to the archive hall — smaller, lower-ceilinged, and intentionally plain. No glyphs. No rotating rings. Just smooth walls and evenly spaced benches bolted to the floor.
Containment through simplicity.
The absence of spectacle did nothing to calm them.
Voices rose in uneven bursts.
"That wasn't a trial."
"He didn't even fight."
"They erased him like a bad entry."
Ravi Korr slammed his fist against the bench. "We're not candidates anymore. We're data."
"No," Ayush said sharply from across the room. "We're filters. They're testing the system through us."
"That's supposed to help?" Ravi shot back.
Ayush didn't answer.
Near the wall, Mira sat with her knees pulled tight, staring at her hands as if they might vanish next.
"They showed me my record," she whispered to Raghu, who stood nearby. "Not what I did. What I would have done if you hadn't helped me."
Her voice cracked. "What if next time… there's no one?"
Raghu didn't lie.
"Then you choose anyway."
She nodded slowly, tears gathering but not falling.
Across the room, Gudi watched everything in silence. Her usual grin was gone, replaced by a sharp, thoughtful stillness.
"This place," she said finally, voice low, "doesn't care who we are. It cares whether we fit."
Vedant scoffed. "Fit into what?"
Gudi met his eyes. "Whatever's coming."
That answer chilled the room.
The intercom chimed.
Not the CNC voice.
The train.
"Station processing complete.
Survivors will proceed to Gate Three upon clearance."
A pause.
"Note: Gate Three conditions are variable."
No elaboration.
Raghu's Halo Watch warmed again, more insistently this time. A new line flickered beneath the others.
CONTINUITY ANCHOR — STRESS RESPONSE ELEVATED
He exhaled slowly.
Something was pulling at him — not physically, but structurally. Like the train itself was adjusting its expectations around his presence.
Somewhere beyond the station walls, deep in the rails, systems realigned.
Harry watched the data stabilize just enough to be dangerous.
"Gate Three," he murmured. "And they're already destabilized."
He looked at Raghu's feed one more time.
Still active.
Still resonant.
Still wrong.
Below, the survivors rose as the chamber doors began to open, revealing another corridor — darker, narrower, and unmistakably intentional.
The next test would not ask them to survive.
It would ask them to decide what kind of survivor they were willing to be.
And after the Station of Records, none of them could pretend ignorance anymore.