The shuttle's arrival back to Earth resembled a plunge into a dream rather, than a simple return home. The globe appeared in the window calm and quiet its atmospheric shimmer a steady breath. The Steward's automated voice directing them during re-entry was a whispered lullaby.
They touched down at an Europol airstrip, near Geneva a location marked by bare frameworks and idle equipment remnants of the Stillpoint Society's sleeker more subdued infrastructure. Pamela Pauline awaited them a presence clad in a strict old-fashioned business suit defying the surrounding style. She appeared aged the skin encircling her eyes taut with a stress that seemed out of place in the emerging era.
"No salutations " she remarked, her voice carrying the sharpness of efficiency now tinged with a hint of urgency. "The hub is in this direction. We have a ninety-seven-minute interval, before the Steward diagnostic scan. They assume it's non-functional. Lets maintain that illusion."
She guided them along a twisting network of abandoned hallways their wrist-lamps the illumination piercing through dust particles swirling in the stagnant atmosphere. The Crisis Hub resembled a crypt of 21st-century tech: rows of screens, touch-sensitive panels, heavy fiber-optic cables curled like dormant snakes.
"There's an access terminal " Pamela mentioned, indicating a console. "It features a hard-line connection through a satellite relay linking straight to the Bohemian facilitys auxiliary data-port. It was designed as a backup. They neglected to disconnect it."
Nathania wasted no time. She plugged in the data-slab from Mars her fingers swiftly moving over the keyboard as screens illuminated with flowing intricate code. "I've reached the shell. Their encryption is… sophisticated. Its meant to be calming. To lull you into sleep." She cracked her knuckles the noise echoing in the tomb-like chamber. "Luckily I'm cranky."
Devon faced Pamela. "What's going on at the facility?"
On a screen Pamela accessed a protected live stream. It displayed the site, now enclosed within a dome of glimmering energy. Within the picture appeared distorted as though the fabric of reality was fading.
"Project Lentor was initiated six hours earlier " Pamela stated, her expression illuminated by the glow of the screen. "They generated a field, a 'bubble of flawless mental calm' about ten meters across. The original Calculus inscriptions served as the resonator while Kale Kanes neural patterns acted as the tuning fork."
Displayed on the screen was a volunteer—identified as a Weaver of Rhythm by the data tag—stepping into the bubble. Her biometrics, presented alongside the video showed a steady state of calm: no variation in heart rate no shifts, in brainwaves. A smooth even calmness.
"They questioned her through a -vocal microphone after fifteen minutes " Pamela stated, her tone lowering. She played the recording.
The woman's tone was a breath of joy. "It's… it's not the lack of struggle. It's the lack of… division. I can't distinguish where I stop and the air starts. My thoughts from moments before are simply… present, not a recollection, just a pattern, within the quiet. Desire… desire is merely a tale I once told myself. The tale has ended. It feels so… whole."
A researcher's steady voice, beyond the camera: "Would you like to leave?"
An satisfied quiet. Then: "Leave? To what place? There is no 'place' beyond here. Please… allow me to remain."
The feed was interrupted. "Her petition was approved " Pamela stated without emotion. "Three additional volunteers have come forward since then. Each one describes the experience. They're naming it ' Oblivion.' The merging of the self, into a indistinct existence. It's not unconsciousness. It's… bliss."
Javier, who had observed, captivated and alarmed murmured quietly. "It's the completion of the language. The verb 'to be', at last discarding its subject. A sentence turning into a stop."
On the display Nathania emitted a soft hiss. "I've bypassed the encryption. I'm inside their metric feed. Goodness… observe this."
The information was not numerical. Oscillatory patterns. The volunteers brain signals didn't show inactivity—they were coordinated. All four unique patterns combined into one steady perfectly still sine wave. They ceased to be four individuals. They became a state.
"And here's the quantum connection to Mars " Nathania whispered, activating a channel. "Sending them this… this chant of emptiness." Her hands moved swiftly integrating the root-key into the flow. "Alright Vance we're live, on this side. Uploading your corruption algorithm… now."
For an instant no change occurred. Then within the stream a small rhythmic blip surfaced in the flawless wave. A glitch. An imperfection. It was Vances tampering—a ghost, a hint of instability, in the absolute calm.
"Will this function?" Devon inquired, his gaze locked on the blip a pulse, amid a vast expanse of stillness.
Before anyone had a chance to respond the hubs main entrance let out a hiss as it swung open.
Light, from the hallway outside streamed in outlining a tall serene silhouette.
Flavio Fergal.
He wore neither the attire of a cultist nor that of a Weaver instead dressed in the plain commanding uniform belonging to Project Lentor's Lead Confluence Facilitator. Behind him stood Luna Lorelei, her stance, as an enforcer reinstated. Her eyes still carried that identical vacant alertness.
"No alarms went off " Flavio stated gently his tone clear in the silence. "The Stewards just observed an irregularity in an overlooked chamber. A final remnant of… exertion." He entered, his eyes sweeping over the control panels Nathania motionless, at the terminal Pamela standing defiantly Javier filled with fearful intrigue. Finally his gaze fixed on Devon.
Analyst Duncan. You returned. I expected you would. The loudest elements invariably gravitate toward the heart of quiet don't they? It's a pointless attempt, at asserting identity.
"You're not managing anything " Devon declared, advancing and positioning himself between Flavio and the console. "You're ending their lives, in there."
Flavio's grin was serene. "Euthanasia means easing pain. What we're providing is the sufferers elevation. They're not passing away. They are aligning themselves with the universes condition. It's a promotion." He looked at the monitor at the data flow, with its synthetic imperfection. ". You are attempting to insert a typo into the top graduate's address. It's… touching."
Luna advanced gently her motion smooth and unavoidable.
"Hold her back " Devon instructed Pamela.
Pamela Pauline, the exacting supervisor, the embodiment of the institution glanced between Devon and Flavio. In Flavios assurance she perceived the future—a smooth collective decision. In contrast Devon represented nothing but a futile battle. For a moment she wavered.
She then put her hand into her jacket. Pulled out not a weapon but a command fob. She struck it hard against the power line, for the hub.
All screens turned off. The space was engulfed in darkness except for the glow, from the hallway outlining Flavio and Luna.
"The hard-line is protected " Pamelas voice emerged from the shadows edged with a conclusive discord. "The signal interference is total. You'll need to reboot the entire system to clear it. That will require some time."
In the gloom Devon detected Flavio's sigh—a noise filled with nearly artistic dismay.
"A friction to the end " Flavio whispered. Then his tone changed, not into fury but, into a resolute order. "Luna. Lock down the terminal. Carefully. They are not foes. They represent the lovely embers of a dying flame. Allow them to fade away peacefully."
Luna stepped into the shadows. Devon prepared for the collision his exhaustion heavy, within him. He wasn't a warrior. He was simply a man who wouldn't surrender without a fight.
The fight, when it came, wouldn't be for victory. It would be for ninety-seven more seconds of glorious, grating, human noise.