LUCID DREAM
At first, there was no way.
There was no light.
There was no sound.
There was no point of reference.
Only falling.
Kael was sinking into something thick, dense, impossible to pass through. It wasn't water. It wasn't air. It was closer to a poorly formed idea: black, viscous, without a defined temperature. Weightless tar. Every attempt to move found neither resistance nor response. He fell without acceleration, without friction, without an end.
And yet, he was falling.
For a long time.
He didn't feel fear.
That was the strange part.
In other times, a fall like this would have triggered automatic responses: adrenaline, calculation, anticipation of impact. Not here. There was only a silent distrust, a low but constant alert. The certainty that something didn't fit.
'I haven't dreamed in years.'
The thought appeared without urgency. Like an observed datum.
Kael was conscious. Too conscious for an ordinary dream. He knew where his attention ended, he knew which parts of his mind were active.
He even knew which techniques he would have used before to force himself awake. As a trained assassin, being aware of dreams was the minimum.
Those techniques… didn't work.
It wasn't paralysis.
It wasn't confusion.
It was… something else.
The fall continued.
Then, without a clear transition, the black began to withdraw.
It didn't dissipate. It didn't break. It simply stopped being there. As if someone had turned off an entire layer of reality.
Kael fell—or rather, arrived—into a white space.
Not luminous.
Not bright.
Absolute white.
A white so uniform it canceled depth. There was no horizon, no up or down. The contrast with the previous darkness wasn't violent, but unsettling. Like going from a closed room to an infinite surgical hall.
His body finally responded.
He rolled over himself and stopped. There was no impact. There was no floor. But something supported him. The notion of a surface existed, even if he couldn't see it.
He stood up slowly.
The white returned no shadows.
For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Then, something appeared.
A light.
It wasn't fixed. It didn't have stable edges. It changed before his gaze could adjust. One moment it was an imperfect square, the next a deformed circle, then an eight-sided figure that never fully closed. Sometimes it was nothing recognizable at all: just chromatic distortion, an error in the white.
Overlapping colors.
Fragmented rainbow.
Brief durations. Too brief.
Kael didn't try to classify it. He observed. The image caused a certain déjà vu.
The light kept mutating, without apparent rhythm, until—for barely three seconds—it adopted a concrete shape.
A triangular prism.
Not identical to the one he had held in the past, but close enough for recognition to be immediate. Irregular edges. Surfaces that didn't reflect the environment, but something more abstract, like possible states.
Before he could do anything with that observation, the prism collapsed.
It didn't explode violently. It fragmented inward, as if imploding, reorganizing into a different structure.
When the form stabilized, Kael knew what he was seeing.
A schematic.
An incomplete but functional representation of his cerebral implant. Not as traditional hardware, but as a pattern: interrupted concentric rings, nodes suspended between layers, connections that didn't follow linear paths. Some parts looked damaged. Others… displaced.
He stared at it.
The sensation was surprise. He didn't know what was happening, but he felt he had to approach.
He took one step forward.
The white didn't change.
He extended his hand and touched the structure.
He didn't feel metallic texture or physical heat, but touching the chip caused a chilling, tingling sensation throughout his body.
He felt a response.
The light contracted for a brief instant, and then a voice emerged. Not from a specific point, but from the space itself.
"Initializing..."
There was no emotional tone. No intention. Merely neutral.
"Sufficient energy."
"Partial system initialization..."
"Loading..."
"Analyzing old memories..."
"Analyzing synchronized memories."
Kael slightly furrowed his brow. He recognized that voice. It was the AI of his neurocerebral chip.
He had many doubts, but for now, he observed.
The white rippled and, in front of him, a translucent surface appeared. It didn't float. It was simply there, in silence.
<------------------>
Data.
Registered Name: Kael Drago Everlite Von Kaulix
Current Name: Kein Adler
Real Age: 117
Physical Age: 24
Previous Profession: Assassin / Hitman
Current Profession: Props assistant (Part-time)
<------------------>
Kael scanned the information without visible reaction. Not because it didn't affect him, but because he was analyzing it.
More data appeared.
<------------------>
Physical Attributes:
Strength: 0.8
Endurance: 0.7
Speed: 0.6
Agility: 0.65
<------------------>
They weren't extreme values.
But they weren't low either.
Below, another block.
<------------------>
Skills:
Acting: C (New)
Cognitive Analysis: A
<------------------>
Nothing else.
The interface remained silent.
Kael didn't ask immediately. He observed. He evaluated the context, not the numbers. The place. The moment. The fact that this was happening now and not before.
'This isn't just a dream. My chip came with me. That's impossible... According to my physical analysis, there was no object in my brain. If so, where is it?'
The thought didn't close. It wasn't a conclusion. It was a mental note.
He raised his gaze toward the structure representing his chip.
"Prism," he said in a clear, firm voice. "I'll call you Prism from now on."
"Name updated."
"Give me a summary of the situation."
There was a five-second pause. He wasn't used to that; in NEXARA the AI didn't take even a second to respond.
"Processing."
Then:
"Situation summary: two hypotheses detected. Hypothesis A: alteration caused by an anomalous object with partial integration into cognitive support—estimated probability 79%.
Hypothesis B: capture in a simulated environment with memory reconfiguration through event replication—estimated probability 29%."
"Insufficient data to confirm."
The remaining percentage was not mentioned.
Kael accepted the information without gesture. But he needed more details.
"Mmmh. Give me a report on hypothesis A."
"Loading... Possibility A (79%): The object generated an alteration in the link between neurological support and consciousness. Part of the operational substrate is relocated into a non-physical pattern. Physical support integrity: partial."
"Energy," he said next. "You mentioned energy several times. Explain."
Another pause.
"Source unidentified."
"External energy reception detected during recent event."
"Amount sufficient to prevent complete system shutdown."
"Current operational state: unstable."
Kael paused for a second.
"Exact time of the event."
"21:41:18."
"So, at 9:41 PM... At that time I was at the theater."
He stored that data along with the rest.
"Hypothetical scenario," he continued. "What happens if you don't receive additional energy?"
"Probable scenarios:
Scenario A: complete shutdown with irreversible functional loss (death)—probability 50%.
Scenario B: partial shutdown with preservation of consciousness pattern in indefinite latency (no apparent effect on agent)—probability 50%."
"Similar probabilities."
Kael barely nodded. He needed to understand what that unknown energy was… Otherwise, he would die again.
"Give me estimated time until energy depletion."
"Analyzing... Estimated time: 49:45:10."
He said nothing else.
He needed to return to the theater and repeat the actions again... He had an idea of what it was, but he needed to be sure.
The white began to lose coherence. Not like the initial black, but like an image that could no longer sustain itself. The interface faded first. Then the structure. Then the light.
Before everything disappeared, Kael had a vague, spontaneous thought:
This was… fun.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
He opened his eyes.
The ceiling of his bedroom greeted him. Gray. With a small crack near the corner.
His breathing was normal. His pulse, stable. His body wasn't tense, but not relaxed either.
He slowly sat up and rested on the edge of the bed.
He needed to organize his thoughts.
He let the weight of his body settle. Let the sense of reality anchor itself. Let the subtle discomfort find its place.
A smile.
'interesante'
He didn't know what. He didn't know how.
But he had felt it.
And for the first time in a very, very long time, he felt excited.
Maybe… just maybe. This whole situation wasn't so bad.
The thought excited him.
"Ha!" Kael thought, looking at the ceiling.
'It's been decades since I felt excited.'
There, in that dark room, stood a young man. Still as a statue, like a crouching tiger waiting for his opportunity. With bright eyes and a faint smile on his face.