The moment Aerenyx walked into medical that morning, he could tell that something was different.
It was subtle—barely a shift at all—but he had lived too long, worn too many skins, and endured too many false obediences to miss the difference between coincidence and intention.
The corridor outside the med wing tightened around him in a way that had nothing to do with architecture and more to do with all the eyes turning to look at him at the same time.
The sound around him dulled to a low hum and his 'co-workers' dropped their voices, but that didn't stop him from hearing what they were saying.
"Lemmings," he gurnted under his breath. "They are all lemmings. If one jumps off a cliff, all of the will. The human race is doomed if this is the best of them."
A junior attendant approached him, clipboard clutched to her chest like a shield. She did not look him in the eye.
"Doctor Elias," she said, voice clipped and rehearsed. "You're requested in Sublevel Three."
