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The machinery’s whirring slowed, returning the room to its eerie silence.
“What did you do?!” the Supervisor’s voice was filled with rage.
Although I was exhausted, I managed a smirk. “You can’t control everything, Supervisor.”
The guards released me, a hint of grudging respect in their eyes.
As I stood up, my legs slightly shaky, I took a deep breath.
Despite the ordeal, I couldn’t suppress a smile.
The Supervisor had his machines and his plans, but I had something far more powerful: love.
And with Ellie by my side, even in spirit, I felt invincible.
“Again,” the Supervisor said.
My head snapped toward him.
The guards who had begun to release my restraints paused and looked up at their master.
I could read their expressions even through their helmets:
Again?
I had never been subjected to a second round immediately on the heels of the first before.
The guards, not saying a word, did as they were bid.
In their silence, the Scientist stepped forward. “Sir, with all due respect, the new frequency could kill him the second time. If we allowed him to rest a little, to recuperate, we might see better results.”
The Supervisor’s tiny compound eyes bore into me and I felt an uneasiness that I had never felt before.
He leaned forward. “Again.”
The Scientist turned to me with another vial of truth serum and administered it.
There was no look of sorrow on his face — I doubted the creature could even express it.
The familiar hum of the holo-machine enveloped the room, but this time, it felt more intrusive, louder and grating against my senses.
The image that took shape on the holo-screen, however, shifted the unsettling ambiance into one of deep reverence.
It was a massive tree, its bark shimmering with an ethereal glow.
Its branches reached out like protective arms, but what caught my attention the most were its fruits.
Hanging like glistening jewels, each bore a distinct number.
I instantly recognized it: the Yllandra Tree, a holy entity in our culture, bearer of the numbered fruits used in our sacred lottery.
The very sight of the Yllandra Tree invoked memories of my homeland, the feel of warm, soft wind brushing against my face, the distant sound of religious hymns, and the taste of sweet, ripe fruits from my childhood.
But, juxtaposed against the cold, sterile environment of this chamber, it felt like a cruel mockery.
As the holo-image focused, the fruits began to ripen, and one by one, the numbers on them became crystal clear.
No… This… This can’t be happening.
