After several hours, Bhramak opened his eyes. He remained still, not moving in panic.
The ceiling above him was unfamiliar to him.
The world had returned quietly, without noise or drama. Yet, everything seemed arranged with a precision he did not remember before.
The air held a sterile chill from the filtered ventilation. A faint scent of antiseptic lingered beneath the steady rhythm of monitoring equipment.
He became aware of the weight.
Gravity rested gently on his shoulders and arms, pressing against the mattress beneath him. His muscles felt heavy yet intact, as if rejuvenated after a long absence. The sensation was not painful; it was dense, reminiscent of the memory of strain without the actual strain itself.
A gentle motion near the console drew his attention.
Dr. Raghav Iyer stood next to the monitoring station, observing the last streams of data scrolling across the display.
The young female doctor who had assisted earlier held a tablet close to her chest, her expression calm yet focused.
A uniformed officer stood by the door, hands clasped behind his back, still as part of the scenery.
Bhramak swallowed hard, feeling his throat dry and uncomfortable.
His voice came out quieter than he had expected, even though he moved little. "How long ... was .. I asleep?"
Dr. Iyer looked at the display before responding.
"One hour and forty-three minutes."
Bhramak blinked in surprise and shouted, "What?"
Everyone looked at him in surprise.
The number lodged in his mind and wouldn't make sense.
"It felt longer," he said slowly.
The doctor paused and waited.
"Much longer," Bhramak added.
He looked for a comparison that wouldn't sound absurd. "...like decades," he finally said.
The young doctor halted her typing. The officer's gaze sharpened slightly, though his posture remained unchanged.
Dr. Iyer showed no surprise. He nodded once, as if the answer fell within an expected range of unknowns.
"That perception is not uncommon," he said.
Bhramak realized that what he had experienced could not be easily categorized.
He flexed his fingers slowly. The movement felt deliberate and precise. The simple act of moving seemed to require less effort than he remembered—not easier, but clearer, as if the command and the response were aligned without delay.
He lay there for a moment longer, allowing the silence to settle. The memory of the place, if it had ever truly been a place, lingered at the edge of his recall, refusing to take shape into clear images.
Dr. Iyer spoke again.
"During integration, individuals may occasionally experience sensory or perceptual phenomena. Did you notice anything?"
Bhramak did not answer immediately.
Instead, he asked. "Is… it important?"
"Yes, it is," Dr. Iyer replied calmly. "The purpose is to identify the trait."
He struggled to find the right words, but none seemed adequate.
"It wasn't a location," he finally said. "It was more like a state of being."
The room was completely still.
"I couldn't see anything but stayed like a statue in the middle of the road where people were moving," he continued, his voice steady. "Some carried burdens you couldn't see. Others laughed loudly… but it felt forced, as if something inside them was breaking."
The young doctor's stylus moved more slowly across the tablet screen.
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to piece together the impressions.
"However, something changed there."
His brow furrowed in concentration.
The ones shaped by pain stood tall. The sorrowful forgot their wounds. And those who laughed to conceal their feelings...
The young doctor completely stopped typing.
"No one looked away," he added. "Nothing was hidden. It felt absurd, yet also honest."
He took a slow, deep breath and exhaled gradually.
"There was no fear and no judgment… only release."
Silence enveloped the room like a gentle weight.
Dr. Iyer examined him closely.
"Did you experience fear?"
"No."
"Pain?"
"No."
"Disorientation?"
Bhramak considered.
"Only… clarity."
His expression changed once more, and he began to speak.
When they bypassed me, their reactions suddenly changed. Some laughed forcefully, as if someone was making them laugh to conceal their true feelings. Others laughed joyfully, as if they had forgotten their pain forever.
The young doctor continued typing.
The officer stood still, watching quietly and showing no emotion.
A gentle sound emanated from the console next to the bed.
Data flowed continuously across the display, showing neural harmonics, cognitive response patterns, and markers of emotional processing. The system analyzed the recorded responses alongside the integration metrics. The classification traits became evident.
It paused.
Then updated.
The young doctor leaned in a little closer.
Dr. Iyer read the sentence once and then read it again.
The officer took a step forward.
Cognitive Alignment Pattern Detected
Behavioural Traits: JOKER-TYPE
Confidence Index: Inconclusive
No one said a word, but when they looked at the display, their shock was evident.
The silence lasted long enough for Bhramak to become aware of his own heartbeat.
Dr. Iyer slowly folded his arms.
"Profiles that align with this behavior usually emerge after the integration of Cat-C."
He turned his attention to the monitor.
"You did not receive Cat-C." The young doctor spoke softly, almost as if to herself.
"Cat-X integration is producing a response pattern similar to that of a Joker."
She tapped the tablet twice to save the data stream.
The officer's gaze shifted towards Bhramak.
"That is uncommon," he said.
He did not elaborate.
He did not need to.
Bhramak exhaled slowly.
"I don't understand any of this," he stated. "I only shared what I experienced."
That was the truth. Guessing would only make Bhramak more vulnerable. He had stepped into water whose depth he could not measure.
Lying now would only further blind him or create trouble in the future, and there is no way to go back. Dr. Iyer regarded him for a moment longer, then nodded slightly, as if acknowledging both the uncertainty and the restraint.
The young doctor skillfully prepared a sterile syringe.
"I need two blood samples," she said.
He confidently extended his arm without any hesitation.
The needle slipped beneath his skin twice. Dark red filled the vial in a steady line. The Young Dr withdrew it smoothly, sealed the containers, and labeled them with two small printed strips before handing them to the officer.
No explanation was provided.
The officer accepted the item and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.
The sound seemed louder than it actually was.
Only after the tension dissipated did the exhaustion begin to set in. It did not crash into Bhramak; it settled gradually, like weight returning to muscles that had forgotten about gravity.
His limbs, body, and mind felt heavier than usual.
His thoughts remained clear.
"I feel… tired," he admitted.
"That is expected," Dr. Iyer replied. "Your system is stabilizing." The young doctor adjusted the monitoring leads and stepped back. "You will be moved shortly," she said gently.
He nodded.
Paperwork was completed. Sign here. Initially, the process began there. A temporary clearance card was issued to Bhramak. Brief instructions were delivered in calm, efficient tones. Nothing dramatic or unnecessary occurred.
When he returned to his assigned quarters, the corridor lights dimmed to a softer glow.
The digital clock at the end of the hallway showed 23:35, just before midnight.
The building existed in a different rhythm than the city beyond its walls: quiet, sealed, and deliberate.
He walked into his room and shut the door behind him.
The space was modest: a narrow bed, a small desk, a wardrobe, and a window covered by reinforced blinds. It felt functional, temporary, and impersonal. Yet, after the controlled precision of the underground facility, this simplicity felt grounding.
He sat on the edge of the bed, letting silence envelop him.
Fragments of the day flowed through his thoughts:
The descent beneath the building,
The silence without boundaries,
Faces without masks,
Laughter without shame,
"The word 'Joker' "glows on a clinical display.
He slowly rubbed his palms together, reconnecting with his own skin.
Tomorrow, he would officially join the agency and start his career as a secret agent.
Tomorrow, the questions will become more complex.
Tonight, exhaustion settled heavily into his bones, demanding attention with a quiet persistence.
He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, taking a moment to relax.
The phone vibrated next to him.
A gentle buzzing sound echoed against the wooden table.
He opened his eyes and turned his head to look around.
The screen illuminated the dimly lit room.
Mother is calling...
For a brief moment, he gazed at the name.
The quiet room felt as though it was closing in around the small rectangle of light.
He picked up the phone and held it to his ear.
"…Hello?"