Felix returned back to the central Gor tower. He took with him some data from the monsters that he was able to imperceptibly take from the laboratory assistant before leaving.
Felix personally wanted to make sure that everything was fine. He wants to kill himself that this is just a new kind of monster. But there is a big "but". This kind of monster is exactly what Gor soldiers grow. Felix knows this, but he doesn't want to admit it, so he's looking for arguments.
Felix opened the data card on the table, the neon light shines in his face. He put the snail on the cold slab of the data table, and they began to analyze the materials they had received.
Carmen's voice rang out, "A PMCS facility has been detected. An extinct monster species in the fiftieth year after the founding of Gor.Or else the name the empty-ootsoro"
Felix's vision went dark. He was afraid. For some unknown reason, Felix decided that the chip in his head was to blame. He threw the data board at his feet and stood on them like scales.
The data began to be studied by Felix. The area in his head where the chip had previously been lit up red.
Felix got off the board and picked up the data. I started tapping the red area on the screen with my finger and it displayed the name:
[Felix Phoenix previously convicted of violating dome security Code: 67790 FTS Dome number]
...
The morning was still early. Felix walked through the world market, weaving past stalls but keeping his gaze straight ahead. His eyes were swollen and red, betraying a restless night. Some of the stalls were only just beginning to open.
He continued onward, approaching an old, weathered stall. On its wooden counter sat a small bell, worn smooth by years of use, and behind it, a matching old wooden chair. Without hesitation, Felix slammed the bell repeatedly, each ring sharp and insistent, until finally, a portly man with mutton chops appeared.
"I need the chip removed from my head," Felix stated abruptly, offering no explanation.
The man barely had time to react before it hit him—this was the first person he had encountered that morning.
Before he could even speak, Felix recited with cold precision: the chip number, its expiration, year of manufacture, the date of implantation, and the relevant statute.
"Felix Phoenix. Previously convicted of violating Dome security. Code: 67790 FTS. Dome number 722. Chip implanted four months ago."
"But—" the man started, but Felix cut him off sharply.
"I don't care. Just get it out of my head," he hissed.
The man opened his mouth again, only to be interrupted once more.
"I can't sleep knowing this… thing is in my head. I'm going to lose my mind if it stays there…" Felix muttered, his voice trembling with restrained panic.
The man shook his head gravely. "Removing that chip… it's illegal. I'm not a surgeon. I'm the one who designs these chips—the ones that go into heads, not the other way around."
Felix's frustration boiled over. "So… can you take it out or not?"
The man's answer was cold and final: "No."
Felix turned and stormed away, his hand flailing in irritation, anger and dissatisfaction etched across his face.
...
Back at his apartment, Felix stood alone in the dim light, staring into the mirror. His reflection looked tired, worn down by the day's frustrations, yet his eyes burned with a restless intensity. He picked up the forceps from the counter, turning them over in his hands, the cold metal catching the faint light.
He lifted his gaze back to the mirror, then down to the tool, repeating the motion almost mechanically. A tight knot of anxiety coiled in his chest. His fingers trembled slightly as he imagined the chip lodged in his skull, a foreign invader that refused to leave.
"Just… just get it out," he whispered to his reflection, voice cracking with tension. Each repetition of the gesture—mirror, forceps, mirror, forceps—felt like a countdown, a ritual he could not stop. Fear, frustration, and a desperate urgency mingled within him, making his heart pound in his ears.
He could feel the weight of it all pressing down: the helplessness, the rage, the absolute need to reclaim control over his own mind. Sweat prickled at his temples, and yet he could not tear his eyes away from the reflection staring back—Felix Phoenix, prisoner of his own head.
A knock came at the door, followed by Kayav stepping in without waiting for permission. His eyes immediately took in Felix's disheveled state.
Felix looked up, and their gazes locked. Desperation tinged his voice as he tried to plead with his friend. "You have to help me… I can't sleep, not for almost a full day. Please, get it out of my head."
Kayav waved him off, his expression tight with annoyance. "Don't start with this again, please," he muttered, eyes narrowing at Felix.
Felix's obsession with the thought that someone had seized control of his mind only seemed to irritate Kayav more. He shook his head impatiently. "Four months you've been living with that chip," Kayav said sharply, "and you slept just fine. Now suddenly—you're having insomnia? Don't dramatize it."
Felix flinched at the cold logic but didn't relent, the tension in the room thick as both friends faced the impossible reality of the chip lodged in his head.
Suddenly, Kayav's device buzzed. A virtual tablet materialized in front of him, glowing faintly in the dim light of the room.
An incoming call flashed on the screen: Jayar.
Kayav's eyes flicked to Felix for a brief moment, a mixture of curiosity and concern crossing his face, before he reached out to answer.