Silas Thorne paused near the console, the tablet resting lightly in his hand. His thumb moved across the screen, slow and deliberate, as if he was more interested in confirming than rushing. Lines of data slid past, numbers adjusting, bars filling and settling into place.
The machine responded with a soft hum.
Neural channels aligned.
Power flow steady.
Restraints locked.
He tapped one last option and waited. When the final indicator shifted into place, he exhaled quietly and turned away.
He didn't look around as he walked. There was no need to. He knew the layout by memory. The white coat hung comfortably on his shoulders, creasing slightly at the elbows as he moved. His beard was trimmed without care for style, only function. His hair, straight and slightly unkempt, caught the light as he passed under the ceiling panels.
The floor was metal from wall to wall.
Each step of his boots landed clean and sharp, the sound spreading through the corridor before fading into the low mechanical noise of the building. The place was never truly silent. Something was always running. Something was always watching.
He turned into a long hallway.
At the end of it stood a single door.
Before he reached halfway, voices began slipping through the walls. Muffled at first, distorted by distance and steel. Then louder. Clearer.
"Let me go!"
Silas didn't slow down.
Another shout followed, strained and uneven.
"What is wrong with you people?!"
He adjusted the tablet again, swiping past a warning he had already read twice. The voices kept coming, rising and falling, breaking into sharp cries that echoed through the hall.
"Please! Let me go!"
By the time he reached the door, the screams were no longer distant.
They were right there.
The door itself looked heavier than the rest of the structure, reinforced and seamless. A small panel glowed beside it, pulsing faintly. Silas slipped a black-and-silver card from the inside of his coat and passed it over the reader.
The red light blinked.
Then changed.
The lock released with a soft hiss.
Silas pushed the door open.
Sound rushed out all at once, loud enough to hit the chest.
"LET ME GO!"
The room beyond was washed in white. Walls, ceiling, machines, all the same sterile shade. Thick cables ran along the sides and overhead, feeding into panels and screens. A large display covered part of the wall near the door, dark for now, waiting.
In the center of the room was the chair.
A boy was strapped into it.
He couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen. His body twisted against the restraints as if he was trying to tear himself free. A strip of cloth was tied tightly over his eyes, digging into his skin. His wrists were locked to the arms of the chair, fingers curling and uncurling in panic. His legs were secured along a metal frame beneath him.
"Who are you?!" he shouted. "Why did you bring me here?!"
His voice shook, raw from shouting.
Behind the chair stood a woman in a red coat, the color almost jarring against the white room. Underneath it, she wore black. Her hair was tied back into a tight bun, not a strand out of place. Glasses sat low on her nose as she watched the boy struggle.
This was Elara Vance.
She kept her hands close to herself, as if unsure whether to move or stay still. Her eyes followed the boy's movements, flicking briefly to the restraints, then to the wires overhead.
When Silas entered, she noticed immediately.
Her gaze shifted to him and lingered just long enough. He didn't say anything. She straightened her posture and stepped closer to the chair.
Silas stopped a few steps in front of the boy, glancing down at the tablet again.
At his signal, Elara reached forward and loosened the cloth from the boy's eyes.
The sudden light made him flinch. He sucked in a breath and froze, blinking hard as if his eyes were burning. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around.
The machines.
The wires.
The room.
His gaze landed on Silas.
Silas was standing right in front of him, tablet in hand, scrolling as though the boy wasn't even there.
Something inside the boy snapped.
"WHO ARE YOU?!" he yelled again. "WHY DID YOU BRING ME HERE?!"
Silas didn't answer right away.
He finished what he was doing on the tablet, then finally looked up.
"You're not going to die," he said, as if that alone should calm him.
"What do you want from me?!" the boy demanded. "What did I do to you?!"
"Lower your voice," Silas replied. "You're only making this harder."
The boy pulled against the restraints, the chair rattling beneath him.
Silas turned toward the main machine and pressed a button.
The room responded instantly.
The large screen on the wall flickered on, filling with shifting symbols and empty data fields. Information transferred over from the tablet, line by line. Options appeared, waiting to be selected.
Silas lifted his hand slightly.
Elara moved.
The boy noticed and tensed.
"What are you doing?!" he shouted. "Don't touch me! If you do something to me, I swear—"
A sharp mechanical sound cut him off.
From the structure above the chair, wires dropped down in a sudden motion. They swayed slightly before settling in place. Each one ended in a circular chip, flat and dark, with a faint glow at the edge.
The boy's breathing turned fast and shallow.
Elara took the first wire.
He screamed and struggled again, but the restraints held. She leaned in, steadying his head with practiced hands. The chip hovered near his temple for half a second.
Then it snapped into place.
The boy gasped.
The second chip locked onto his chest.
The third pressed against the back of his neck.
Each connection made the same sharp sound, quick and final.
By the time the fourth chip attached to his forehead, his movements had slowed. His body shook, but there was no strength left in it.
Elara continued.
Right arm.
Right leg.
Six in total.
When she stepped back, the wires tightened slightly, adjusting themselves. The boy stared forward, eyes wide, chest rising and falling unevenly.
The screen changed.
Data flooded in.
Heart rate.
Muscle output.
Neural signals.
IQ range.
Memory depth.
Stress response.
The boy could see it all. Every number moved as he breathed.
"Please," he said quietly. His voice barely carried now. "Please don't do this. I don't want any experiment."
Silas walked closer, stopping beside the screen.
"This won't take long," he said. "And it won't happen again."
He reached for the large handle mounted beside the display.
Pulled it down.
The machine came alive.
Lights brightened. The wires vibrated faintly. The screen began updating faster, filling with new readings.
The boy's fingers twitched against the restraints.
And the experiment began.