The morning light that crept through Alaric's window felt wrong.
Too still. Too quiet. Even the city outside — normally a mess of horns, chatter, and drone hums — seemed muted.
He sat on his bed, staring at the laptop.
The screen was still black.
He had spent the entire night half-convinced the email was a prank, half-afraid it wasn't. But when he powered the laptop back on, he froze.
The background had changed.
No folders, no wallpaper — just one glowing symbol in the middle of the screen.
A circle split by a black line, with a serpent coiled around it, its eyes two faintly pulsing lights.
He frowned.
He hadn't downloaded anything. He hadn't even opened the email link.
He clicked the symbol.
For a second, nothing. Then static. The faint hiss of digital interference filled the room. Words began to form across the dark screen:
> WELCOME, ALARIC WARD.
CURIOSITY DEFINES POTENTIAL.
His heartbeat quickened.
A countdown appeared underneath: 04:00:00.
And then —
> A VEHICLE IS EN ROUTE. COME ALONE. TRUST BRINGS REWARD.
The timer started ticking down.
---
He stood there, barefoot, still in his hoodie, staring at the numbers as if they were some kind of hallucination.
"Four hours…?"
The rational part of him screamed shut it off, call someone, tell your mom.
The other part — the part that always got him in trouble — whispered, You wanted something different. Well, here it is.
He tried shutting the laptop. The screen flickered. The symbol stayed.
The serpent's eyes blinked once, then the screen went dark completely.
He exhaled slowly. "This is insane."
But by the time the timer hit 00:02:17, he was already outside.
---
The lower district was waking up. Vendors shouting. Steam rising from street food stalls. Neon lights still burning from the night before.
Alaric stood on the edge of the street, clutching his bag. His fingers tapped nervously against his thigh.
He didn't know what he was expecting — maybe some shady van, maybe nothing at all. But when a black car rolled up the road, silent as a shadow, his stomach dropped.
The vehicle looked expensive — matte finish, tinted windows, no visible engine vent.
And when it stopped in front of him, the rear door opened automatically.
A soft male voice came through the speakers, calm, precise:
> "Mr. Ward. Please step inside."
Alaric took a slow step back. "Uh… who are you?"
> "You already know."
The voice was the same tone from the email.
Smooth, composed — too confident to be lying.
He swallowed, glanced at the empty street around him. "This is such a bad idea…"
Then, under his breath: "Screw it."
He stepped in.
---
Inside, the car felt less like a vehicle and more like a pod — silent, perfectly climate-controlled, the faint hum of energy surrounding him. The seats were smooth white leather, curving like part of the frame.
Then a screen flickered to life in front of him.
At first, just static — then a man appeared.
Silver hair. Sharp suit. Pale eyes that seemed to look through the camera, not into it.
He smiled faintly.
> "Hello, Alaric."
The voice matched the one from the car. Calm. Patient. Slightly amused.
Alaric hesitated. "You're the one who sent the email."
> "I am. Dr. Elias Krane."
He paused for just a moment, eyes studying Alaric's face.
"Though, some prefer another name. Shepherd."
Alaric leaned back, uncertain whether to laugh or panic. "Okay, 'Shepherd'. You've got my attention. What is this — some kind of recruitment scam? You gonna tell me I've been chosen to save the world?"
Shepherd chuckled softly. It wasn't mocking — just amused.
> "You underestimate yourself, Mr. Ward. You were not chosen to save the world. You were invited to improve it."
"Right…" Alaric muttered. "And what exactly am I improving?"
> "Humanity."
That single word hung in the air, heavy and deliberate.
> "We live in a decaying cycle, Alaric. The weak depend on systems that exploit them. The strong waste their potential chasing validation. You feel it — that quiet dissatisfaction. That boredom."
Shepherd leaned closer on screen. His tone lowered — not commanding, but persuasive, almost intimate.
> "You think you're lazy. But you're not. You're unchallenged. The world gave you nothing to strive for. We intend to fix that."
Alaric blinked. "You talk like you know me."
> "I do. You've been watched for months."
That made Alaric's skin crawl. "Watched?"
> "Your school scores. Your behavior logs. The prank videos. Even the way you think — how you hesitate before deciding something important. We observe patterns. We see potential where others see distraction."
Alaric forced a laugh, though his throat felt dry. "Wow. Totally not creepy."
> "You misunderstand, Mr. Ward." Shepherd's smile didn't fade.
"Observation isn't control. It's faith. We don't choose randomly. We choose those who are already standing at the edge, waiting for someone to tell them to jump."
Alaric stared at the screen. "And what if I don't want to jump?"
> "Then you'll stay exactly where you are."
The car went silent. The hum softened.
For a moment, Shepherd's voice lowered to something almost human — a faint trace of warmth beneath the precision.
> "Your mother works double shifts. The bills are piling up. You distract yourself with humor because you fear failure. Tell me, Alaric — how long will you keep pretending that's enough?"
That cut deep.
Because every word was true.
He looked away, biting his lip. "You've done your research."
> "We only study those worth studying."
The car began to descend — smooth, soundless. Through the tinted glass, the lights of the city vanished, replaced by a dull glow of metal walls. They were moving underground.
> "Where are you taking me?"
> "Home," Shepherd said. "Or rather — the first place that might feel like it."
---
The car door opened automatically. Cold, sterile air rushed in.
A massive corridor stretched ahead — white steel walls, light panels embedded in the ceiling, guards in grey uniforms flanking every corner.
At the far end, a glass door with the same symbol from the email etched into it.
> "Proceed," Shepherd's voice echoed.
Two attendants — not guards, but scientists by the look of their coats — approached him. One smiled politely, gesturing for him to follow.
Alaric hesitated. "You guys gonna drug me or something?"
Neither answered. They led him down the corridor.
Through the glass walls on each side, Alaric caught glimpses of other rooms.
Machines humming. People in containment pods. One man strapped to a table, his veins glowing faint blue. Another floating midair, convulsing.
He slowed down. "What… what is this place?"
> "Aurion Industries," came Shepherd's voice, this time over a hidden speaker system.
"Our private division — independent from any government oversight. Here, we conduct the Aurion Initiative — the study of controlled human evolution."
"Evolution? That looks like torture!" Alaric snapped, his voice echoing.
> "Perspective," Shepherd replied calmly. "When humanity first reached space, men died for the data. Progress demands casualties. It always has."
"That's not progress — that's insane."
> "And yet, here you are."
Alaric stopped walking. The attendants turned back, waiting silently.
> "You didn't have to come, Mr. Ward," Shepherd continued. "But you did. Because deep down, you want to see what happens when someone doesn't back away."
The worst part was — he wasn't wrong.
Alaric clenched his fists. "You said there was a reward."
> "And there will be. For every subject that completes the procedure — financial compensation, relocation, anonymity. A new life. No more bills. No more limitations."
The door ahead slid open with a hiss. A white chamber lay beyond it, filled with cables and light.
> "All you have to do," Shepherd's voice said softly, "is say yes."
---
Inside the chamber, Alaric could see the main experiment pod — sleek, transparent, and filled with a faint, silver mist swirling like smoke underwater.
Monitors pulsed softly, displaying graphs he couldn't understand.
A hologram flickered to life beside the pod — Shepherd again, projected in full height.
He looked even more imposing in person — calm, confident, disturbingly graceful.
> "You see, Alaric," Shepherd began, circling him slowly, "most people spend their lives waiting for permission — to live, to dream, to matter. We're offering you liberation. To become something beyond the fragile shell of human fear."
Alaric's throat felt dry. "And if it kills me?"
> "Then you will have died becoming more than you were," Shepherd said gently, almost reverently. "But if you succeed…"
He leaned closer, his tone lowering to a whisper.
"You will never be ordinary again."
He extended his hand — not physical, but the holographic projection mimicked the gesture perfectly.
Alaric looked at it.
His head was spinning. His instincts screamed no, but his heart whispered what if?
He remembered his mom's tired smile, the bills, the hopeless routine.
He reached out — and touched the holographic hand.
Shepherd smiled.
> "Good."
The room lights brightened. Machines whirred to life.
> "Welcome to the Aurion Initiative, Subject 017."
As Alaric was led toward the pod, Shepherd's voice echoed one last time through the room, smooth and unwavering:
> "Curiosity defines potential… but obedience refines perfection."
Then the pod closed.
And everything went dark.