Time stopped meaning anything in the containment pod.
Nero floated in the stabilization fluid, suspended between waking and something that wasn't quite sleep. The collar around his neck kept his Veyra locked down completely with no pulse, no energy, just silence where his core used to burn.
He couldn't tell if hours had passed or days.
The transport had stopped moving at some point.
The pod had been transferred, lifted by automated systems and carried through corridors he couldn't see clearly through the fluid and the blur of semi-consciousness.
Now he was stationary somewhere.
The pod's panel showed a room beyond with clean clinical white walls and some medical equipment he didn't recognize.
Sector One, he assumed. Where the Architect's direct authority controlled everything, where Prototypes came to be processed or erased.
A door opened in the room beyond. Nero couldn't turn his head because the fluid held him perfectly still, but he could see through his peripheral vision.
Three figures entered. They were not Reconstruction Units but something different. Medical personnel wearing white coats with their faces obscured by surgical masks and protective gear.
One of them approached the pod and checked readings on a display which Nero couldn't see, then spoke to the others in a voice too muffled to understand through the fluid.
Then they began preparations. Preparation for the experiment to be done on Nero.
Equipment was wheeled into position around the pod. Scanners and monitoring devices along with things that had cables and probes that made Nero's stomach tighten with fear he couldn't express.
One of the medical personnel touched a control panel. The pod sounded mechanically and the fluid began to drain slowly, inch by inch, receding from Nero's face first, then his chest, his torso, his legs. As it drained, feeling returned to Nero with cold air on his skin and the weight of his own body no longer suspended.
The pod opened.
Nero gasped as his lungs adjusted to breathing air instead of fluid. His legs gave out immediately and the medical personnel caught him, lowering him to a gurney that had been positioned beside the pod.
His hands were restrained with wrists locked to the gurney's frame and ankles secured. The collar stayed on with Veyra still locked down completely.
"Subject is responsive," one of the personnel said in a clinical and detached voice. "Vital signs stable. Core suppression holding at ninety-seven percent."
"Good." Another voice spoke, deeper and coming from somewhere Nero couldn't see. "Begin Continuator Protocol. Phase One: Memory extraction and analysis."
Continuator Protocol. The words from the Prototype chamber, the Archive's method for permanent erasure. Not just correction but complete removal from all timelines.
Nero tried to speak but his throat was raw from the fluid. "Wait..."
"Subject is attempting communication," the first medical personnel reported. "Recommend sedation."
"Negative. The Architect wants him conscious for initial processing. Awareness is required for accurate memory mapping."
The Architect wanted him conscious and wanted him to feel this.
One of the personnel moved a device over Nero's head that looked like a crown of sensors and probes. They lowered it carefully and adjusted it until it sat against his skull, cold metal on skin.
"Neural interface synchronized," someone said. "Beginning memory extraction in three, two, one."
Pain lanced through Nero's head, not physical but worse, like someone was reaching into his mind and pulling out thoughts, examining memories that weren't meant to be shared.
He gasped and tried to pull away, but the restraints held him tight.
Images flashed through his mind without his choice, forced upon him.
Memory of waking up six months ago with Helia finding him, her hand extended, her voice saying "Can you stand?", her helping him, keeping eye on her, running away from Archive. The memory was pulled apart, analyzed, every detail extracted and catalogued.
Another memory surfaced of Sector L-Zero. Eleven's body. The grief that had nearly destroyed him. This too was pulled apart, analyzed, filed away.
Another memory came unbidden. The Dwelling Corridor, seeing himself in that pod, the fear that he was already caught and already sleeping.
Then Klaus's betrayal in the transport hub, his sorry, and his death.
Each memory was stripped from him, examined, and returned wrong, like looking at something familiar through distorted glass.
Amidst the memory extraction, Nero still could hear the voices of medical personals.
"Memory extraction at forty percent," someone reported. "Subject is experiencing significant neural stress."
"Acceptable. Let it continue."
More memories came with more pain. Nero's entire existence was being catalogued as six months of experiences were torn apart and analyzed by systems that didn't understand what they meant and didn't care.
He tried to resist, tried to hold onto the memories, but it was like trying to hold water in his hands. They slipped away, were taken, were examined.
Finally, the extraction stopped.
Nero lay on the gurney gasping. His head felt hollow and wrong, like parts of himself had been carved out.
"Memory extraction complete," the medical personnel said. "Uploading data to Architect analysis systems."
"Confirmed. The Architect is reviewing now."
A screen activated on the wall. Nero turned his head just enough to see.
The screen showed data about him. His memories displayed as graphs and readings with emotional responses mapped and connections identified.
And highlighted in red:
BOND FORMATION WITH HELIA KRUSATE
STABILITY ANOMALY
REQUIRES CORRECTION
"Subject has demonstrated unprecedented core stability through bond reinforcement," a synthesized voice said from the speakers, not human but too perfect and too precise. "This represents a deviation from all previous Prototype models. Analysis indicates bond formation is the stabilizing variable."
The Architect's voice, speaking about Nero like he was an equation to solve.
"Continuator Protocol will proceed as follows," the Architect continued. "Phase One complete. Phase Two: Bond severance through targeted memory removal. Phase Three: Core destabilization and controlled erasure. Estimated timeline: seventy-two hours."
Seventy-two hours. Three days until they erased him completely.
"However," the Architect added, "Subject shows potential for alternative use. Bond formation capability could be weaponized. Recommendation: Extract bond formation mechanism before erasure. Study for replication in future models."
Nero's blood went cold.
They weren't just going to erase him. They were going to figure out how his bonds worked, how his connection to Helia had stabilized his core, so they could use it and control it and turn it into another tool for the Archive.
"Begin preparation for Phase Two," the Architect ordered. "I will observe personally. This subject is unique. His deviation must be understood before it is eliminated."
The screen went dark.
The medical personnel began adjusting equipment and preparing for Phase Two, for whatever horror came next.
Nero lay on the gurney restrained and helpless. His memories felt wrong and violated. They'd been inside his head and seen everything he'd thought was private.
And they were going to do it again, were going to cut away his memories of Helia and sever the bond that had kept him stable, turn him into just another failed Prototype, then erase him.
He closed his eyes and tried to find some center, some core of himself that they couldn't touch.
But with Veyra locked down, with his memories violated, with his body restrained, there was nothing. He was completely at the Archive's mercy.
And the Archive had no mercy to give.
The medical personnel continued their preparations with efficient and methodical movements as they prepared to tear apart a human being like they were servicing a machine.
In three days, Nero would cease to exist unless something changed, unless someone came, unless he found some way to become something the Archive couldn't predict or control or erase.
He thought about Helia being transported to reconditioning and having her own memories stripped away. Would they erase him from her mind before he was erased from existence? Would she forget him entirely?
Probably. The Archive was thorough. It erased everything and everyone, always.
"Subject is showing elevated stress markers," one of the personnel noted. "Heart rate increasing. Breathing irregular."
"Expected response. Subjects typically experience fear at this stage of processing." The voice was emotionless. "It will pass. After Phase Two, emotional responses will be minimal.
The bond severance will remove his primary stabilization mechanism."
Nero opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.
Seventy-two hours. He had seventy-two hours to find a way out or to accept that this was the end, the Archive's victory, complete and total.
The medical personnel moved closer and adjusted the neural interface.
"Beginning Phase Two preparation," one of them said. "Subject will be conscious throughout the procedure as ordered."
Of course.
The Architect wanted him to feel it, wanted him to experience every moment of his bonds being severed and every memory of Helia being cut away.
Wanted him to understand what it meant to defy the system.
Nero's hands clenched in the restraints.
Three days. He had three days to become something the Archive couldn't predict, couldn't control or couldn't erase.
Or he had three days to die.