The medical wing smelled like antiseptic and artificial lavender. Everything buzzed faintly — beds that adjusted with brainwave sync, IV lines that glowed cool blue, and med-bots gliding on whisper-quiet wheels. A holographic display pulsed above Lasi's bed:
Vitals stable. Cognitive irregularities detected. Further observation recommended.
She cracked one eye open and groaned.
"Ah, Sleeping Beauty rises," came Scarlet's voice from the chair beside her, boots propped disrespectfully on the wall.
Lasi turned her head slowly, like her neck was made of rusted hinges. "Where the hell am I?"
"Med wing. You passed out like a drama major. Scared the life out of me. They scanned your brain six times."
"Did they find anything?"
Scarlet shrugged. "Just the usual soup. Mood swings, sarcasm, mild detachment from reality. Same as always."
Lasi blinked up at the ceiling, where a soft ripple of color moved like an artificial aurora — hospital-grade light therapy.
"Everything feels… weird."
Scarlet sat forward, kicking her feet down. "Define weird."
"I don't know. My head's full of static. Like… like I'm in two places at once. But one of them's underwater and the other's on fire."
Scarlet raised an eyebrow. "Poetic. Also terrifying."
Lasi sat up slowly, rubbing her temples. "How long was I out?"
"Eighteen hours. You missed two lectures, three assignments, and a mandatory psychological check-in. I told them you were suffering from spontaneous existential rejection."
Her fingers twitched as she sat. The overhead light seemed to pulse—once, twice—syncing with her heartbeat. Scarlet's voice warped for a half-second, as if echoing through a wrong hallway in her mind.
"I am."
"Shut up and get dressed."
Scarlet handed her clothes from a nearby chair — jeans, a hoodie, socks that almost matched.
Lasi changed slowly, every movement deliberate, like her body didn't quite belong to her.
She took a deep breath. It didn't help.
"Lightheaded?"
"No," Lasi whispered. "It's… more like falling. Internally."
Her mind tilted again—Scarlet's face blurred for a second. Then the hallway behind her shimmered, wrong angles crawling along the floor. The word internally echoed twice in her own head, once in her voice and again in someone else's. Someone… older.
Scarlet frowned. "You need to tell the doctors."
"I did. They looked at me like I asked to marry the MRI machine."
They stepped into the corridor. Auto-cleaners swept past their feet. Soft-spoken announcements echoed from ceiling speakers:
"Meal replacement packs available in Pod D."
"Reminder: Neural sync sessions require full consent."
"Distress reports are confidential and reviewed by live counselors."
"I hate this place," Lasi muttered.
"Everyone does," Scarlet replied.
As they neared the exit platform, Lasi paused again, her eyes wide.
"Lasi—?" Scarlet began.
The hallway twisted. Cold ran up her spine, and the lights blinked into swirling rings… Lights blinked into swirling rings. The walls stretched like elastic. The floor liquefied beneath her.
And then—
She fell.
Not physically. Not visibly. But somewhere deeper. Her body froze mid-step while her mind plummeted through a sensory abyss.
There was color — unnatural, fractals spiraling like invasive thoughts. Voices too ancient to be human. A hum pulsing with alien meaning.
Her hands reached out — touching sound instead of matter.
Darkness. Silence. Reset.
Something raspy whispering softly, lips leaving a feathering touch of a kiss brushing her trembling eyelids — then her ears — before she heard:
"OPEN YOUR EYES."
She opened her eyes.
Back in the hallway. Scarlet's hands on her shoulders.
"Lasi! Talk to me—"
"I saw something," she croaked.
"What?"
"I don't know… but it's coming."
Scarlet didn't ask what. She helped her walk.
As the doors opened to the outside, the city sprawled before them: floating towers, neon veins of data, hovercars drifting like lazy fireflies.
Everything looked normal.
But Lasi's eyes locked on a flicker in the sky. A glitch behind the pixels.
She whispered:
"It's waking up."
—-
The sliding door hissed open behind them.
An old woman stood there.
No badge. No tab. No uniform. Just a high-collared coat and boots that left wet prints on the floor. Her silver braid fell like a rope across time.
She didn't speak.
Scarlet stepped forward. "Ma'am, this area's restricted."
The woman ignored her. Looked only at Lasi.
"You've seen it, haven't you," she said.
Scarlet tensed. "Seen what?"
"The shimmer. The fold."
"I don't—" Lasi began.
"Yes, you do," the woman said gently. "You fell through. Not fully. Just enough to wake something up."
She reached into her coat.
Scarlet's hand hovered over her taser-glove.
But it wasn't a weapon. It was a chip. Translucent. Embedded with microcode that shimmered like oil. And a package clenched tightly in her hand.
"It's a key," the woman said. "Not to open. To remember."
Lasi's hand moved on its own. Fingers closed around them.
"When the static gets louder," the woman whispered, "don't run. Lean in."
She turned.
Walked away.
Gone.
Scarlet checked the hall instinctively. "She didn't pass me—" she muttered. "The exit alarm didn't chime."
Lasi felt it too. A lag. A time-slip. Like they'd missed a frame of reality.
Scarlet looked at her. "What the hell was that?"
"I don't know," Lasi said. But she was lying.
She did know. She felt it.
And whatever came next—it had already started.
They exited the hospital in silence, the automatic doors closing behind them with a soft hiss.
Streetlights buzzed above, casting white halos in the mist. A few cars idled in their spaces, engines purring quietly. Somewhere nearby, a vending machine clicked and hummed.
Lasi couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched.
—
Fog clung to the hospital's hoverlot. Lights buzzed overhead.
Leaving the hospital, they exited. Lasi stepped into the mist like it was a dream, her hospital gown tucked beneath Scarlet's borrowed trench coat. The hallucination still echoed in her nerves. Her breath puffed white in the chill. She couldn't shake the sensation of falling even though her feet were planted firmly on the ground.
Scarlet walked beside her, arms crossed, jaw tight.
"You don't look great," she muttered. "Still hearing things?"
"No," Lasi said. "Not hearing. Remembering."
Scarlet rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to retort—
When they heard the thud.