Morning came in ribbons through the blinds. Raizen lay quiet and let it all soak in for a moment. The room stopped feeling like a visitor station. His books were a small mountain at the foot of the bed. His cup was empty. The window showed a thin slice of cloudy sky.
On the rolling table sat the old slate Obi had forgot. Same metal corners. Same scratched back. He tapped the power, and the screen blinked to a dim photo. The last, unchanged one. Three people in a yard with the light a little too bright. Obi between them, too small to stand still. The mother with a smudge of grease on her cheek. The father with the same grin Obi used when he lied for a good reason.
He slid to the report. The page with the stamp. RECON EXPEDITION - NORTH RANGE. The last ping that ended in nothing. Unknown scientist. From inside the walls.
He thought about that part too long. A person who walks out alone. Fourteen dead. No Nyx signatures. No Eon readings.
