The cool breeze of the Bosphorus, touching the evening's indigo, gently swayed the tables on the open terrace of the opposite café. A thin sheen of sweat covered Mert's wrists; his skin seemed to bear the phantom touches of Anton's cold ambition, Elena's anxious curiosity, and Marcus's burning rage. He clenched his fist under the table, feeling his nails dig into his flesh. A primal way of holding onto reality.
Across from him, Derya, sipping her tea, tried to ignore his state, but the lines around her eyes were taut with worry. The silence between them was like an old symphony; each knew the notes, the pauses, the place of unfinished sentences.
"You've started torturing yourself again, haven't you, Mert?" she finally said, glancing at Mert's study. Her voice, mixed with the softness of the Istanbul night, held a familiar reproach. Pointing to the neural interface on the table, she added, "With that machine of yours. 'Symphony.'"
Mert took a deep breath. Looking at the twinkling lights on the opposite shore of the Bosphorus, he murmured, "Not torture. Discovery."
"The same thing," Derya replied, setting her teacup down with a soft clink. "You always push the boundaries. Yours, and the universe's. And then you fall apart. And I try to pick up the pieces." The end of her words hung in the air, shadowed by regret.
Everything between them had ended three years ago. Mert's obsession with the laboratory, Derya's passion for the earth, had covered their love. But the roots were still there; a silent bond that bled when touched.
"I was in Konya," Derya changed the subject, perhaps to comfort him. "We're working on a new Hittite settlement layer. But... yesterday... we found strange things after the anomaly in the news. A layer beneath the main layer, impossible to date. Symbols that don't match any catalog, any form stylized by any known civilization. They multiply as we excavate." She paused, looking into Mert's eyes. "It's like a circuit diagram, not a language. Or a map of a network."
Mert's heart delivered a single, powerful beat in his chest. In his mind, the complex, inked lines that covered the walls of Kai's studio in Tokyo came to life. Intertwined spirals, triangles, fractal branching.
"What kind of symbols?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
Derya shook her head slightly, with a hint of annoyance. She took out her phone and touched the screen. "Here. A few of the cleanest ones."
She held out the phone. Mert took the device, feeling the slight tremor in his fingers. On the screen were symbols etched into the clay soil with a sharp tool. Deep, precise lines. Identical. A perfect copy of the spiral pattern Kai had drawn. Next to it, three intertwined circles – just like the center of the ink blot exploding on the canvas.
His breath caught. The world seemed to shake on its axis for a moment. Had what an artist in Tokyo had drawn in a trance been etched into the earth thousands of miles away, perhaps centuries ago, in the heart of Anatolia? Time lines were intertwining, past and present merging at a point. Nexus.
"Mert?" Derya's voice came from a distance. "Mert, are you okay? You've gone pale again."
Mert put the phone on the table, covering his face with his hands. He took a deep, shaky breath. "I saw these symbols... in Symphony!" he replied. Derya's voice was now filled with curiosity and concern. "In your lab? How?"
"Yes," Mert replied, removing his hands from his face. Then he said, "No." In his eyes, along with his own fear, was a dark awakening. "In the lab, but not physically. In my mind."
Silence fell. The whistle of a ferry on the Bosphorus was heard in the distance, long and mournful. Derya looked at him in a way that reminded Mert of the moment he had first fallen in love with her years ago: with the same attention, the same depth, seeing all her layers.
"Tell me," Derya said, in a single word. It was not a request, but a command. Like an archaeologist, she would slowly, carefully excavate the truth.
And Mert told her. All of it. The cold metal plates of 'Symphony'. The response from the depths of his mind. The invasion of images: Elena's laboratory, Kai's ink storm, Marcus's burning palm, Anton's icy greed. The others. That universal 'tremor' they all felt at the same time, in the same millisecond. The phantom burn on his own palm. And the word Nexus, etched into his mind as a pure concept.
Derya listened without making a sound. Her tea grew cold, the evening darkened, and the lights of Istanbul left golden trails in the water. As Mert spoke, the doubt on Derya's face slowly turned to astonishment, then to a cold, sharp fear.
"So... you're saying," she began at last, weighing her words, "that you are at the center of the anomaly? And Symphony? Your neural interface created a quantum anomaly and opened a door to the consciousnesses of people around the world. And theirs to yours. These symbols... is this a language that you all... share?"
"I'm not sure if they noticed me," Mert corrected, his voice tired but sharp. "Derya, what you found in the ground... it's not just a pre-historic graffiti. It's a message. A map. Maybe a warning. And I... we... are now a part of it."
Derya picked up her phone again, looked at the photo. Running her finger over the spiral on the screen, she whispered, "Actually... that night... I started to feel something too." She whispered, "The earth... it felt like it was vibrating. I experienced it again when I saw these symbols in the morning. It was like a low-frequency hum coming from underground. No one from my team heard it. I ignored it so it wouldn't affect my work." She raised her head. "Was it at the same time as what you experienced? At 03:17?"
Something icy settled in Mert's stomach. "You felt it too...?! But... I didn't see you." He paused for a moment...
"No, I saw you," she said with a flash of insight. "I saw you too. It was a brief moment, but I saw... " It was as if an enlightenment had come. "Did you feel me? Did you feel something different in yourself? Do you still feel it?"
"I didn't feel it. I heard it, but not you," Derya corrected. "And dreams... for the last week, I've been having strange dreams. I find myself running in huge, blue-lit tunnels. A voice is coming from behind me... a woman's voice, saying something in Italian."
Elena. Mert's throat tightened. Was Derya carrying an echo leaking from his mind? Or had the anomaly 'triggered' her in a way she was not yet aware of? Had she really not felt it, or had she not noticed it because it was too short? But Elena... Marcus... Anton... Kai... Their memories were clearer. They might have felt him. They might have been aware...
"Derya," Mert said, his voice tightening. "While working with these symbols... did anything else happen? Something physical?"
Derya bit her lip. Then, she slowly turned her wrist. On the inside of her palm, there was a faint, almost invisible, orange-tinged mark. Just like the one on Marcus's palm, but smaller, more faded.
"A week ago," she explained, "while cleaning one of the symbols, the handle of the pickaxe suddenly... heated up. My hand burned. But then the mark almost disappeared."
Mert instinctively reached out to touch Derya's wrist, but stopped just before contact. The distance between them, the accumulated silence of years, trembled for a moment like an electrically charged void. Derya looked at his hand, then at his face. In her eyes, the spark of an old desire collided with the shadow of a new fear.
"You have the same thing, don't you?" Derya asked, her voice a whisper.
Mert opened his palm. There was no visible mark on his skin, but when he touched it, there was a slight throbbing under the skin, a phantom pain.
"Not physical," he said. "But I feel it. That night, the pain of the burning crucible on Marcus's palm... I still carry it." He paused. "And his rage. And Anton's greed. And... Elena's fear." The name escaped his lips here for the first time, in front of Derya. Like a confession.
Derya's eyes narrowed slightly. An expression that showed an old wound bleeding with a new pain. "Elena... Who?"
"A physicist at CERN. The one who detected the anomaly." Mert avoided looking at her. "There's a lot more."
"So now," Derya said, her voice hardening slightly, "in your mind, in addition to my place as your ex-lover, there are also the feelings of a female physicist from Switzerland?"
"Derya, please..."
"No, Mert. Listen." Derya leaned forward, the wounded expression in her eyes giving way to a pure, archaeological curiosity. "This is important. If what you say is true... if consciousnesses are really connected in some way, then feelings, attractions, fears... they can all be transmitted. When you look at me, what you see in me... is it really my feeling, or an echo leaking from someone else? Or what you feel for me..." She stopped, unable to find the words...
Mert understood what she was trying to say. The foundation of their relationship was shaking. Identity, self, love... all could be questioned in this new reality. But at that moment, when he looked at Derya, at her earth-smelling hair, her lined hands, her deep, dark eyes, he was sure that what he felt was pure, unadulterated, and belonged to him.
"I remember you," he said in a soft but firm voice. "Not someone else."
"In the nights when I got lost in the data in the lab, a piece of your laughter was always in a corner of my mind. The pure joy on your face as you touched a piece of pottery you had taken from the earth. The way you slammed the door when you were angry with me. These are your memories, Derya. Not someone else's. And what I feel right now, when I sit in front of you and tell you these impossible things... this fear, this astonishment, and yes, this old warmth... these are my feelings too. Not emotional leaks from somewhere else."
Derya looked at him in such a way that Mert felt as if he were in an excavation site; each look was digging a layer. Then, slowly, almost experimentally, she reached out and placed her hand on Mert's hand, which was on the table.