[Year 2261]
"Sir…"
The voice reached me through a haze of distant thoughts, soft yet persistent, while a hand rested against my shoulder and gave it a careful shake, as though whoever stood behind me understood that pulling me back too abruptly might fracture something already strained beyond comfort.
I had been seated near the upper railing of the staircase overlooking the laboratory floor, my gaze unfocused as it drifted across the illuminated space below, where the machine stood at the center like a silent axis around which everything else revolved, and for a long moment I struggled to separate memory from the present.
The world outside the facility remained buried beneath endless layers of snow and dust, a frozen wasteland where the sky rarely revealed its true color and the wind carried a constant, whispering chill that pressed against reinforced walls and sealed windows.
Beyond those barriers people moved through the desolation wrapped in thick, temperature-regulated suits designed to protect them from the biting cold, their silhouettes reduced to indistinct shapes wandering across a landscape that had long since forgotten warmth.
Inside, however, the laboratory existed in sharp contrast to that world, bathed in a steady, artificial brightness that eliminated shadows and left no space for concealment, every surface polished and controlled, every system functioning with calculated precision, and within that contained environment only four of us remained, each positioned at different points around the machine, each absorbed in tasks that carried more weight than any of us were willing to admit aloud.
"What is it?" I asked while straightening slightly, forcing my thoughts back into alignment as I turned my attention away from the past and toward the present. "I was in the middle of something."
Before the person behind me could respond, a sudden explosion shattered the fragile stillness of the room — a sharp, violent crack that tore through the air with unmistakable finality — and the sound struck me with such force that it bypassed thought entirely, dragging my attention toward the source before I could even process what it meant.
I turned.
And everything stopped.
One of the figures on the laboratory floor collapsed without warning, their body folding in a way that felt wrong, unnatural, as though the motion itself had been stripped of intention, while a second figure stood several meters away with a gun still raised, the faint echo of the shot lingering in the air like something that refused to disappear.
Time did not slow, yet it felt as though it had thickened, as though every detail demanded to be seen clearly whether I wanted to see it or not, and for a brief moment my mind attempted to reject the reality unfolding before me, searching for an explanation that would make it less final.
There wasn't one.
"Ella…?" I said slowly, my voice carrying more disbelief than accusation as I stepped forward instinctively, my eyes fixed on her as if recognition alone might change what had already happened.
She did not lower the weapon.
The expression on her face remained steady, devoid of hesitation, and whatever uncertainty I might have clung to dissolved in that instant, replaced by a clarity that felt colder than the world outside the facility.
"Raise your arms, Justin," she said calmly, her voice level in a way that suggested this moment had been decided long before it arrived. "It won't be good for you otherwise."
For a fraction of a second, the weight of what I had just witnessed settled fully into place, and although questions surged through my mind with overwhelming force — why this had happened, how long it had been planned, whether any of it could still be undone — none of them reached my lips, because something in her gaze made it clear that this was not a moment that allowed for hesitation or negotiation.
Slowly, I raised my hands.
The motion felt detached from my own will, as though I were observing myself from a distance, and the moment my arms reached their full height, she moved forward without warning, closing the distance between us with decisive speed.
The impact came before I could react.
A sharp, heavy force struck the side of my head as the flat end of the gun connected, sending a jolt through my senses that shattered whatever stability remained, and the world tilted violently as sound and light collapsed inward, everything dissolving into a single, overwhelming absence.
Darkness followed.
When my eyes finally opened again, the world felt unbearably heavy, as though my body no longer belonged to me and every sensation had been dulled by distance.
The dull metal interior surrounding me came into focus slowly, its cold surfaces reflecting faint light while a constant vibration hummed beneath my feet, steady and inescapable.
It took only a moment for recognition to settle in, and with it came a strange, quiet certainty. A police van carried me forward, not just through the streets but toward an end I had somehow always known was waiting.
My hands were restrained, the tightness biting into my wrists just enough to remind me that this was real, while a sharp throbbing spread across my head where she had struck me earlier.
The pain pulsed in rhythm with the movement of the vehicle, yet it felt distant compared to the weight of realization settling inside me, heavier than anything physical could ever be.
There was no confusion, no desperate attempt to escape the truth, only a silent acceptance that arrived far too quickly for someone in my position.
So this was how it ended, not with chaos or resistance but with a quiet stillness that wrapped itself around my thoughts and refused to let go.
I didn't shout or struggle or demand answers, because somewhere deep down I understood that none of it would change what had already been set into motion. Instead I leaned my head back against the cold metal wall, letting its chill seep into my skin as if it could ground me in the moment, and slowly closed my eyes, not to escape but to face everything I had been avoiding.
The darkness behind my eyelids felt calmer than the world outside, and in that fragile silence a single thought surfaced, clear and unwavering, carrying more weight than anything else I had left unsaid. I'm sorry, Dad.
The words echoed softly within me, not as a plea for forgiveness but as a confession I should have made long ago, before every choice began stacking itself against me.
And as the van carried me forward, the present slowly loosened its grip, allowing my mind to drift backward through memories I could no longer ignore, pulling me into the past and into the choices that had led me here.