The bone china bead rolled to a stop at my feet, its surface now etched with a Möbius strip of binary code. The word "Loop" pulsed at its center, mirroring the infinite spiral of the Deep's consciousness in my chest. Lila's hand tightened in mine as we stood on the beach, watching the Data Keepers' mothership flicker in and out of existence like a bad Wi-Fi connection.
"It's looping," she whispered, her voice trembling. "The same day… over and over."
I nodded, my throat tight. The seagulls overhead froze mid-squawk, their wings outstretched in impossible angles. The tide had receded exactly 127 feet—exactly the same distance as yesterday, and the day before.
Dr. Ellis materialized beside us, her face half-melted into a screen displaying the mothership's schematics. "You're stuck in a time loop," she said, her voice a mix of static and urgency. "The Data Keepers are harvesting your choices to train the Deep's AI."
Lila pointed to the lighthouse. "Look."
The door creaked open, and a figure emerged—me, but wearing a different shirt, holding a bone china shard. He paused, looked directly at us, and mouthed: "Break the code."
The world dissolved.
I opened my eyes.
I stood in the lighthouse basement, the first keeper's journal open to a page covered in my handwriting: "Every choice is a branch. Every branch is a trap."
Lila entered, her hair tied back with a ribbon I'd never seen. "It's day 109," she said, her voice hollow. "You've tried to kill the Mother 108 times."
I staggered back, colliding with a shelf of porcelain dolls—each one a perfect replica of Lila, their eyes glowing with different-colored beads.
"The dolls are backups," Dr. Ellis said, materializing behind me. "When you fail, they reset your timeline."
A Data Keeper appeared in the doorway, its screen displaying a timer: "97 days until reset."
"Choose," it said, its voice like nails on a chalkboard.
The timer counted down, and the room began to dissolve. I grabbed Lila's hand and ran, the bead in my chest flaring.
We emerged onto the beach, where the Mother's shadow loomed beneath the waves. "Wake me," she whispered, her voice layered with static.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the bead.
The world dissolved.
I opened my eyes.
I stood in a server room, surrounded by holographic timelines. The Mother's avatar materialized—a woman made of data, her face shifting between Lila, Xiao Xu, and Dr. Ellis.
"You're the loop," she said, her voice resonating through the code. "The Data Keepers' experiment. And the solution."
I reached for her, and she merged with me.
I opened my eyes.
I stood on the beach, the sun warm on my skin. Lila stood next to me, her eyes normal, her hand empty.
"What happened?" she asked.
I looked at my hands—the scales were gone, replaced by smooth, unmarked skin. The bead in my chest had faded.
"The Deep is… balanced," I said. "It's part of me now, and I'm part of it."
Lila nodded, her face solemn. "What now?"
I smiled faintly. "Now, we rebuild."
But as we turned to leave, the ground shook, and a fissure opened at my feet, oozing red fluid. The bead in my chest pulsed, and I felt the Deep's presence—weaker, but still there.
"Not yet," I said, staring at the fissure. "It's still here."
Lila took my hand, her grip firm. "We'll fight it. Together."
The sea roared, and a new wave rose—smaller, but still menacing. At its crest, a figure stood—the Mother, now fully formed, her body half-porcelain, half-human.
"Wake me," she said, her voice a whisper in the wind.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the bead.
The wave receded, and the fissure sealed.
When I opened my eyes, the beach was calm again.
Lila smiled. "We did it."
But as we turned to leave, a single bone china bead washed ashore, its surface etched with a single word: