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As they taped my eyelids open, the room became a blur of lights, the colors more vibrant than they had any right to be.
I could see the large holo-screen in front of me, a glowing canvas of symbols and images.
It was known as the Orb and was a tool to aid them in seeing what I could See.
My Visions.
All stripped bare for them to peruse and judge.
One by one, they left the room, leaving me alone with the hum of the machine.
I could see them through the observation window, donning their goggles as they prepared to dive into my mind.
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
My heart pounded in my chest, the steady rhythm a solemn drumroll for the upcoming invasion.
The machine whirred to life, its sound growing louder until it filled the room.
The chair started to spin, first slowly, then faster, the world blurring around me.
The sharp smell of ozone filled my nostrils as the machine worked, making my eyes water and my throat tighten.
My heart pounded in my chest like a wild beast trying to escape, each thud echoing through my veins.
I clung to the armrests, my fingers aching from the tight grip.
But I held on, refusing to let the fear show on my face.
The last thing they’d see was my defiance, and the last thing they’d hear would be my silence.
* * *
The world became a dizzying whirlpool as the machine swung me around and around.
It was like being trapped in a monstrous maelstrom, lost in a sea of light and color.
The nausea rose in me, a familiar sensation that came with every spin.
My stomach churned, an unwelcome rhythm that pulsed through my body.
Flashes of images bombarded the holo-screen, a chaotic symphony of colors and movement.
Yet, none of it made sense.
They were blurry and unfocused, as unclear as the path that led me here.
Bile rose in my throat, sour and acrid.
I fought the urge to retch, the feeling only adding to the disorientation.
The Supervisor’s voice echoed through the speaker system, sounding distant yet annoyingly persistent. “What do you see, Ceara?” he asked, his voice a monotonous drone over the whirring noise of the machine.
“Nothing,” I spat.
I would have preferred to remain silent, but the truth serum was already coursing through my veins, bending my will.
The spinning grew more intense, the centrifugal force pressing me against the cold, metal chair.
