(Viewpoint: Alpha-1)
The corridor still echoes with the sound of their footsteps.
A light, hesitant step. Roum.
A perfect, measured step, mine.
When the door closes behind him, a slight satisfaction runs through my spine.
This feeling
A more subtle, rarer sensation: confirmation.
They are learning.
They always end up learning.
Human beings are surprisingly malleable when given the illusion of freedom.
He still feels capable of choosing, deciding, controlling; it's so relaxing to watch them.
The corridors seem shorter.
The white lights caress my gloves, playfully drawing square patterns.
The walls vibrate slightly beneath the station's internal systems, like an animal breathing in its sleep.
It brings back memories, some "very beautiful" ones.
Level Zero was silent.
As usual.
These glass-walled and drab rooms discouraged anyone from daring to walk in them unless invited.
They say that those who venture there alone hear their own voices in the corridors.
Not true.
A true asylum
I am going through an airlock.
The windows close behind me.
In my mind, the data unfolds like a perfectly aligned ribbon:
the constants,
the evolutionary pace of the subjects,
residual corruption rates,
the black veins,
the pulsation of the umbral essence within their rib cage.
But none of them have succeeded so far.
Yet I had a miracle.
I place my hand on the smoked glass of the next airlock.
My reflection is silhouetted against the dark matter:
calm face
immobile,
precise gaze,
silhouette blanche,
A smile that never rises too high.
Everything is perfect.
A model.
A symbol.
A dogma.
I whisper:
- Open.
The airlock splits open in a humid breath.
Behind them, the room is dark.
Absolutely black.
The only one of all the others
A black man who swallows everything that goes in.
A living black man.
I took only one step and the room lit up with a bluish light, revealing the floating silhouettes around me.
Human silhouettes.
Or who were.
Suspended in vats, like dead candles.
Translucent skin, visible ribs, open eyes.
They are watching me.
They have no choice.
I walk past them as if they were just failed prototypes.
Because it was, a failure and very imperfect.
BOM BOM
struck
This woman in this tank, at the center of everyone, began to tremble, her fingers tapping against the glass in a desperate rhythm.
I lean towards her.
"Shh," I whisper. "You're making too much noise."
Silence
It is observed, intensely
She calms down.
Another conditioned reflex.
Or a Pavlov's dog
She doesn't even remember that she had a name anymore.
I continue walking, passing between the bodies.
And led me into the great hall
Each tank has a number.
A color,
And a hope,
Or not, for those who are without light.
I stop in front of the largest one.
Tank 000-α.
An imperfect body.
Weak, fragile, and simply deadly.
A failure of "our mother", she who is nevertheless perfect.
Mine.
The body floating there is nothing but a memory:
my first envelope,
the one that almost dissolved,
the one I had to abandon.
An empty body, too fragile to contain what I have become.
"You remember, don't you?" I murmured.
– Yes, and I thought you were crazy.
– Old man, it's because you've never left this station.
She turns to observe him, this old man half-hidden, leaning on his cane, yet who runs this entire station.
– Okay, now the real work can begin
I point a finger against the glass, and a shiver of energy slides down the side of the bowl.
I'm thinking of Roum.
And in Asmara.
Asmara …
This girl.
Unstable, hungry, unpredictable.
A raw force stifled in a cracked, weak body and mind.
It could have been perfect.
She had everything it took to be that person.
Obedience, fear, and the desire to understand.
I had given him everything.
But she refused to give up what she believed to be herself.
What's funny is...
For someone like her
I smile.
- You are two sides of the same coin.
"If you have nothing to say to me, I'm going back to the rear," the old man sighed.
– Yes… yes… I'm thinking
Roum, however, is different.
Naive, sweet and innocent
You, you are… You
A miracle.
A coincidence.
Or… no.
Nothing is ever your fault anyway.
I turn my head towards a series of holographic files suspended in the air.
Subject 61.
Subject 79.
I'm scrolling through the recordings.
The first synchronizations.
The first dose.
The first mergers.
The first developments.
Then it started again
Hundreds of subjects reduced in seconds.
And there is:
Roum.
An ordinary boy.
Weak.
No incident.
No particular resentment.
Without ambition.
An emotional void.
The perfect blend.
I close the holograms with a gesture.
- It will do the job, get ready.
Then I think of Ela.
To what it represents.
To what she can help me trigger in Roum.
I rest my hand against the glass of tank 000-α.
- Soon, you'll see.
Oh yes. Soon.
A vibration rises from the ground, light as a breath.
Someone gets off.
I turn around.
The corridor behind me lights up.
A figure appears.
A man.
Grand.
A cold stare.
A black armband encircled his arm.
- Chef.
He tilts his head slightly.
- Report.
He steps forward, nervous.
I can feel the tension in his jaw.
- The teams in dome 2 report instability in the side chambers.
He hesitates.
And… the "perfect" ones want confirmation. They think it's too soon. That you're taking the problem lightly and giving independent orders
I sigh.
Slowly.
- Obviously NOW. I don't need anyone to teach me my job.
The man frowned.
- Can I really deliver this message like this?
I turn towards him.
- You're doing it on purpose.
He shivers.
He doesn't understand.
Never mind.
"And what about Ela and Chetan?" he asks.
My smile returns.
- They will start with us tomorrow.
- Should we help you?
- No.
- What if she escapes?
I stare at him.
- Are you serious?
He swallowed.
I pass by him, gliding between the vats like a familiar ghost.
He tries to follow me with his eyes.
- Boss… Why them?
Roum .
Asmara .
And the others
I'm stopping.
Without turning around.
- Because they are the only ones.
I resume my walk.
The soldier remained frozen.
I push open the corridor door with a wave of my hand.
Before leaving, I'll add:
- Don't forget to forgot when you to leave
He nods.
- Place your orders.
I walk.
The corridor closes behind me.
The white of the lights glides across my skin.
A shiver runs through the air, Tomorrow.
Their first day together.
Roum .
Asmara .
Ela.
And me.
Three perfect beings, brought together under one roof.
A perfect picture.
I murmur to myself, an almost tender smile on my lips:
- this harmony.