Alice’s breathing hitched, her eyes shifting to the side, as if something was pressing against her subconscious, something that shouldn’t be there.

  Brandon reached for her hand. “Alice?” he asked, his voice suddenly concerned.

  She blinked rapidly, as if recalibrating. Then, her grip softened, and the world seemed to exhale with her.

  “Oh,” she murmured, as if realizing something she had simply… forgotten. “I… don’t think so?”

  Brandon frowned. “Of course not. Why would we?”

  Simon narrowed his eyes.

  The dream was resisting.

  It was keeping her locked in.

  Alice’s mind wasn’t allowed to remember the truth. Every time she got close, the illusion patched itself, pulling her back into false security.

  Simon needed to break it.

  “I heard that the facility is housing an AI and its job is to keep the station running,” Simon said, watching their expressions carefully.

  Brandon nodded absentmindedly. “That’s right. WAU handles most of the operations.”

  “Has it ever shown… unusual behavior?” Simon asked.

  The fa?ade cracked.

  Alice’s eyes darkened, a brief flicker of unease washing over her.

  “There were rumors…” she admitted slowly, as if the words were being forced from a part of her mind she wasn’t supposed to access. “Strange reports. But nothing serious.”

  Simon pressed on. “There are also rumors about a technology that allows human minds to be transferred into machines. The early tests used aquatic robots.”

  More cracks.

  Alice’s breathing became shallow. The world around them dimmed, as though the dream itself was losing stability.

  Simon decided to take the final leap.

  "This is all a dream, Alice. Wake up," Simon said firmly, grabbing her by the shoulders, his voice carrying the weight of unbearable truth.

  Alice's eyes widened, pupils dilating as something deep within her mind fractured. Her entire body began to tremble violently, and her breathing became ragged, gasping as though she were drowning.

  "No… no, that can't… it’s not…" she stammered, shaking her head desperately, her words dissolving into incoherent murmurs. Her hands clawed at Simon’s grip, nails scraping uselessly against his flesh.

  The sky above darkened, a sudden, oppressive shadow descending over the idyllic park. The vibrant grass withered instantly, turning to brittle dust beneath their feet. The laughter, warmth, and light drained away, replaced by a suffocating chill and eerie silence.

  "Please… please… not again," Alice sobbed, her voice cracking as if pleading to some unseen force.

  Simon turned sharply as Brandon let out a strangled, guttural cry. Structure gel erupted from every orifice in his malformed face, pouring out in viscous black streams, choking him. His body twisted grotesquely, bones cracking audibly as his limbs bent at impossible angles, transforming him into a nightmarish distortion of humanity.

  Simon’s gaze fell upon the bundle in Alice’s trembling arms. There was no baby. Instead, there was only a grotesque lump of solidified structure gel, twisted and malformed. It fell heavily to her knees, and Alice stared down at it, horror contorting her features.

  "Alice… run," Brandon’s distorted voice emerged in a gurgling torrent of black fluid, barely recognizable as human.

  Her agonized screams split the suffocating darkness, echoing through the corrupted landscape as she collapsed, clutching her head desperately. The unbearable weight of reality shattered her consciousness, plunging her mind into oblivion.

  Simon recoiled as grotesque figures emerged, writhing masses of pulsating flesh and twisted limbs crawling toward them, their silent screams frozen upon their distorted faces. A thick, choking stench of decay and madness saturated the air.

  Structure gel oozed from Alice’s pores, enveloping her in a viscous, writhing cocoon until her screams were swallowed, leaving only a chilling silence.

  Simon stood frozen, caught in the grotesque aftermath of his own actions, watching helplessly as reality warped once again. The park dissolved, replaced by a forest of withered, skeletal trees. Their gnarled branches clawed skyward, reaching desperately toward a bleak, ashen sky.

  "Simon," whispered a voice, soft yet terrifyingly familiar.

  Turning sharply, Simon froze in horror.

  Beside a deep, rectangular pit stood a woman clad in a dark, flowing dress. Her hands rested gently upon her abdomen, framed by cascading brown hair. Simon’s heart stopped.

  "Ashley," he murmured in disbelief.

  The woman stepped forward, revealing a face swarming with thick, wriggling white maggots, pulsing grotesquely as they burrowed through rotting flesh. "Come closer, Simon," she beckoned softly.

  Reluctantly, compelled by forces beyond his control, Simon moved toward the pit, peering cautiously into its infinite void. From its depths, something emerged—a grotesque, mutilated reflection of himself, impaled by dark tubes oozing viscous black gel from every orifice.

  The corrupted double lunged, forcing Simon to the ground, violently wrenching open his jaw and vomiting torrents of thick, suffocating gel down his throat. He struggled, choking as the darkness consumed him from within.

  Reality twisted again. He was plunged deep beneath the ocean, standing amidst oppressive darkness. His mutated self moved aside, revealing Catherine’s grotesque, smiling visage. Dark tendrils extended from her forehead, embedding themselves deeply into the corrupted Simon.

  "You lost the coin toss," she whispered, erupting into manic giggling that echoed through the abyss.

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  Gel flooded Simon’s lungs, drowning him from the inside.

  Suddenly, the torment ceased. He was back in the shuttle, Alice’s lifeless form still before him, but Jerry’s submersible was missing from his back.

  Staggering from the shuttle, his legs heavy and weak, Simon felt an unnatural, painful weight dragging him down. He glimpsed his reflection in a shattered window, horror seizing him. His face was distorted into a grotesque perpetual scream, dark gel tendrils writhing from open wounds, and tumorous growths erupted across his decaying flesh.

  His scream shattered the eerie silence, reverberating through the empty corridors—a scream not of a man, but of something monstrous and irrevocably broken.

  Simon screamed, his voice echoing raw and fractured through the shuttle as he violently lurched backward. The structure gel snapped like living tendrils, tearing away from the fleshy mass with a sickening, wet sound.

  His visual sensors flickered wildly, struggling to recalibrate. Panic surged through his systems, a torrent of digital signals scrambling to regain stability. For a harrowing moment, he didn't know if he was truly awake or still trapped within that nightmarish realm.

  He stood trembling, Jerry’s submersible secure on his back. A quick system check revealed he had been lost in that monstrous illusion for over an hour. His hands shook uncontrollably, residual fear rippling through his artificial body.

  "Fuck this shit!" Simon shouted, the words distorted and desperate. He sprinted from the shuttle, stumbling in his urgency to escape, each step heavy and disoriented. Reaching the main floor, he collapsed against the cold, unforgiving metal wall, sliding down until he hit the floor with a loud thud.

  He clutched his head, the memories vivid and relentless, assaulting him repeatedly. His mechanical frame shuddered as soft, broken sobs escaped from his diffuser, his very human agony bleeding through the mechanical facade.

  Simon rocked gently, consumed by the horror of what he'd experienced. The nightmare was etched into his consciousness, each horrifying detail replaying itself mercilessly, a relentless reminder of how fragile his grasp on reality had become.

  He sat there, isolated in the suffocating silence, struggling to regain control, to push away the haunting images that threatened to consume him once again.

  After an hour, Simon forced himself to stand, every movement causing waves of nausea to ripple through his digital systems. He staggered toward the laboratory, his limbs heavy, unsteady, each step a struggle as his mind continued to replay the tormenting visions.

  Ashley's soft whispers lingered just behind him, cruel echoes of his past. Catherine's twisted laughter resonated in his mind, her mocking grin etched into his consciousness. The overwhelming memory surged, forcing Simon to double over, violently retching despite the lack of any physical stomach. The sensation felt painfully real, a cruel trick of his mind.

  "Jerry, I feel like shit," Simon muttered, leaning against the cold laboratory wall, the weight of his despair pressing heavily upon him. Jerry, standing before Simon, gazed quietly, his tiny eyes seeming to reflect genuine concern.

  "This was probably the worst decision I've ever made," Simon whispered bitterly, the words laced with a depth of anguish he could barely articulate.

  "You know," he began softly, his voice trembling, "I still blame myself for Ashley’s death, even though I know—logically, rationally—it wasn't my fault."

  The memory surged vividly, inescapably real. Ashley sitting in the passenger seat, smiling at him, unaware of the impending tragedy. At the intersection of Bloor Street and Spadina Road, the crushing impact of the SUV striking their vehicle. He could still feel the sickening jolt, hear the crunching metal, the shattered glass.

  "That fucking bitch," he spat bitterly, venom seeping through his distorted voice. "If she'd just paid attention to her kids, Ashley would have survived." He paused, anguish tearing at his artificial soul. "Maybe if I'd chosen another route... if I'd driven just a bit faster or slower… she'd still be alive."

  The agony intensified, his sobs echoing quietly through the empty room. "I can still see her eyes, Jerry," Simon continued, his voice breaking, raw with torment. "The way she looked at me as she choked on her own blood—helpless, desperate, pleading. And I just sat there, watching her die, unable to do anything."

  His voice cracked completely, anguish overpowering him. "Then, a few months later, I died too. And maybe… maybe I deserved this. Maybe being condemned to rot at the bottom of the ocean is exactly what I deserve for killing Ashley."

  Simon slumped to the floor, consumed by grief and guilt, trapped in an endless cycle of torment that refused to release him.

  Simon’s fist smashed against the wall, the metal denting under the force of his rage.

  "Fuck," he spat, voice trembling with fury.

  His gaze shifted toward the humming servers. Lights blinked across their surfaces, a digital heartbeat pulsing in silence. A tangle of cables sprawled beneath them like veins feeding the core of a monstrous machine.

  "I'm tired of feeling," he muttered.

  He stepped forward, hand reaching toward the cable he had once used to connect to the network. If he plugged himself in again—just a few alterations to his neural mapping—and he could silence the torment forever. Strip away the guilt, the grief, the pain. He would no longer feel. No longer remember.

  Just function.

  His hand hovered above the port.

  Then it froze.

  Fingers clenched into a trembling fist.

  Simon collapsed to his knees.

  "I can't do this," he whispered, broken.

  He knew the truth. If he took that final step, if he severed himself from the last flickering remnants of emotion, he would cease to be human in any meaningful sense. Just code pretending to be a man named Simon.

  His fists pounded the floor.

  "Come on, Simon. You survived all of this for nothing?"

  Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself to his feet. His optics flickered as they locked on Jerry. The rat stared back, unblinking, a steady presence in the chaos.

  "I think it's time to leave this place," Simon said softly. His voice was frayed, but resolute.

  He turned and walked to the elevator shaft. Taking, along the way, a DNA sample from Brandon's decayed body.

  The door creaked open with a groan, revealing the hollow vertical tunnel. He checked his systems—energy reserves full. Jerry’s submersible was secured on his back.

  He activated the electromagnets in his hands and feet. 100% operational.

  Simon leaned forward, staring up into the darkness above. The elevator had long since been destroyed, the shaft a vertical corridor of rusted metal and shadow.

  His hand touched the wall. The magnets clamped tight.

  Carefully, methodically, he began his ascent.

  The climb was slow, each movement deliberate. He passed through a jagged opening where the doors had been forced outward, squeezing through with effort.

  Finally, he reached the living quarters of Site Theta.

  To his right were bathrooms, long-abandoned. Around the elevator shaft was a staircase, now choked with hardened structure gel. To his left, a corridor stretched ahead, lined with doors—personal quarters once inhabited by the people who had lived and died here.

  The common area was sparse: a large television, three couches, a deck of cards scattered on the floor, and a set of dumbbells resting forgotten in a corner. A monument to a life long gone.

  He moved forward to the main door.

  It slid open with a hiss. The corridor beyond had been carved into solid stone, its floor white and metallic. Every few meters, reinforced metal rings surrounded the walls. Pipes snaked along the sides like exposed arteries.

  To his right, a storage room. To the left, a short hallway leading to the laboratory.

  The place where they had fooled Brandon.

  Where he and Catherine had tricked a man's consciousness into surrendering a security cypher.

  Where the DUNBAT had once been.

  A medium-sized submersible vessel, built to withstand the deepest ocean pressures—strong enough for the abyss. Strong enough for Tau.

  But things had spiraled out of control.

  Simon remembered the moment clearly: the DUNBAT’s systems coming online, only for it to be revealed that a rogue neurograph had hijacked the mainframe. The machine had gone berserk, cursing Catherine’s name, smashing itself free and vanishing into the ocean depths.

  Simon shivered.

  'I hope that thing isn’t still out there,'

  He finally reached the entrance chamber—a massive room dominated by two large gates.

  To the left, a sealed gate overwhelmed by pulsing structure gel and flesh crawling up from beneath.

  To the right, the exit.

  He approached the outer gate and sent the signal through the system. The door groaned and slowly peeled open, revealing a vast decompression chamber.

  Rust blanketed the walls. Algae grew in thick veins, and clusters of clams clung to every surface. Water leaked steadily from fractured seals.

  Simon summoned the twelve drones to his position. One by one, they pinged confirmation.

  Then one of them blinked red.

  Movement.

  Multiple entities approaching through the ventilation systems.

  Simon’s gaze snapped upward.

  The vent panel above him shook violently, rattling against its bolts.

  His nano-ceramic blades snapped free from his forearms, gleaming in the dim light.

  "Come on then," he growled.

  The rattling intensified.

  And the nightmare wasn’t over yet.