She remained impervious to the vacancy left by the one who once called himself her junior.
With no new intelligence guiding him, he would follow the operation orders unthinkingly—assigning not only this trial but future pivotal decisions, entirely oblivious that he had chosen them.
“Yes, I know it’s important.”
She stifled a sigh, rubbed her eyes, and reached for the glasses she never used. Turning her attention back to the task, she reviewed the drone’s data streams: unchanging.
Every ounce of cerebral activity funneled into a single point, its biological processes paused—yet it remained alive. No movement, no vital signs beyond that concentrated spark of consciousness.
“Still the same. At least there’s responsiveness.”
She watched her so-called junior sprawled on the mountainside through the monitor. The recording had stretched to nearly 219 hours.
**
Yesterday felt as lucid as an hour ago, and ten days past as vivid as a day before.
Was this a dream or merely a flood of memory?
My body lay immobile, as though submerged. Was it the dream or sheer exhaustion?
Sometimes I ached for the faint warmth of the culture medium, and then a voice echoed in my mind:
“So, is this what life is? Is this your perspective on existence?”
I neither spoke nor nodded, yet the questioner pressed on as if it didn’t matter.
“Alright, it doesn’t matter. After all, you are but a fragment. Yet even that fragment is you.”
The tone was clinical, detached.
“As they said, you certainly piqued my interest—perhaps enough that you could remain like this forever. You’re remarkably provocative. Thus, I want to test you in their manner.”
“Defense.”
The voice intoned like a theatrical narrator. “Are you… Doctor?”
I spoke, then instinctively knew I wasn’t. Not through logic—through instinct—like greeting a stranger in a dream as if I’d met them before.
“Yes, that’s right. This is a midday dream… you invited me in as a character. Like slow, careful Jenga, you dream me, and I build your dream.”
The ‘Doctor’ raised his fingertips, miming the act of picking up and setting down an invisible object. But I refused to accept it, because Defense is…
“It’s the technology used in sarcophagi.”
He nodded. His visor-hidden face sank into shadow.
“Exactly. This tech verifies life signs in those in suspended animation and preserves their dignity. It’s a self-questioning, self-inquiry, self-answering system to maintain identity and dignity as life. Hardly practical out here.”
He produced a terminal in one hand, shifting the appearance of the other as he spoke—just as he always did.
“Which is why I appeared, and why this bizarre exchange is happening.”
The ‘Doctor’ morphed into ‘Senior Operator,’ then ‘Priestess,’ then Mille, then faces I’d never seen—until he looked like Erael.
“Has the long performance been entertaining?”
Erael’s voice carried scorn and bitter amusement.
“You stain the mind, toy with it, mold it like clay, then shatter it—only to end with a conversation like this. Truly tragicomic. Should I praise you for staging such a play?”
“Fragment. As a mere fragment, you presume to condemn the whole? You who lay buried in sleep until awakened? Because that child didn’t know, you too were violated without knowing it. Doesn’t that proclaim you’re nothing more than a cog in this machine?”
The fragment offered nothing but a sneer and withdrew.
Erael resumed a blank expression and spoke evenly.
“I can only describe this sensation as the illusion of a dreamscape. A and non-A scatter, the boundary between you and me blurs, I dissolve in water—and you use it as a stage for dialogue. Fascinating.”
“…”
“The name ‘Defense’ is quite fitting. We seldom speak for someone else. You never needed to; I never had the chance.”
I remained silent. Erael, as if hearing a reply, unfolded and folded his wings.
“Rhodes Island. That name means little to us. But you will forge new bonds—just as you desired.”
“…”
“A trivial wish drew your interest: meeting complex minds beyond your kind, pitying their lives. You sought to connect with them, like a child demanding attention. Then you learned of me, and reached this point. Even a fragment like me changes—so you too will blend with them and change.”
“…”
“Soon it will happen. In the form you desire, together with them.”
“The place they’ll return to, the place they await—an ark waiting until that trivial wish is fulfilled. How eagerly I await it.”
“I too.”
When the Defense concluded, I forced my heavy eyelids open like someone breaking free from a whirlpool. I willed my mind to focus, unfolded my trembling hand, gripped it to steady myself, and looked up. A colossal lifeform bowed its head, gazing down at me.
Its pupils were cavernous as caves, its eyes three times larger than mine—yet I neither trembled nor felt fear. Its distant gaze held a simple warmth, resting on my collar.
“Let’s go. To the place that waits.”
It was an illusion. When I blinked again, nothing remained.
Certain it had heard me, I checked the drone that accompanied me. It flew normally, meeting my gaze—but the intelligence and emotion it once displayed were gone. It had reverted to an ordinary reconnaissance model.
Linking it to the terminal, I watched its final gasp as it fell to the ground. I dusted off the soil, cradled it to my chest, and surveyed the path back.
The mountain trail, once rugged, had healed as if we’d never passed—spiderwebs and weeds now choked the route. The conversation must have spanned far more time than I realized…
How many days had passed?
Standing still offered no answers and only heightened the risk of wild animal attacks, so I followed the downward slope. The descent was easier than the climb, guided by felled branches and caught feathers like signposts.
Off the mountain, the route was nothing like the straightforward descent I knew. Without the drone’s guidance—its life now spent—I felt like a reckless captain adrift on a boundless sea, trusting only in his own vessel.
As my steps grew heavy and I paused, the distant hum of a car engine reached me.
Before I could return to the original camp, the Senior Operator arrived by vehicle. Given the distance, she must have come as soon as I awakened—so she had piloted the drone.
She stepped out, checked my condition with a formidable gaze, and almost shoved me into the passenger seat.
“Secure.”
“Understood. We’ve made contact here as well. As expected, the primordial organisms still dwell in unknown domains. It’s unfortunate we can’t explore further. Return to base soon. You’ll have few duties over the next days.”
While I awkwardly settled into the seat, the Senior Operator finished contacting the Doctor and drove on.
On the road back to the city, I spoke cautiously—her expression was colder than I’d ever seen, a tangible chill emanating from her.
“Senior Operator?”
“…Why do you ask?”
I weighed my words, knowing the question would sting, but spoke nonetheless.
“What is today’s date? How long was I down there?”
She acknowledged the topic’s inevitability and replied.
“Ten days since you arrived there. Officially, the test ended at 238 hours, but it took a bit longer before you regained consciousness and we made contact.”
We exchanged terse questions and answers, synchronizing information, until hours before reaching the city—eager to conclude the dialogue.
Upon arrival, we reported to the Priestess instead of the Doctor and were granted a brief reprieve.
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