March 15, 2024

Kane hated hospitals.

Even dressed up in corporate aesthetics, SubTech's waiting room couldn't completely mask that antiseptic smell that brought back memories of his mother's last days. He shifted in the ergonomic chair, attempting to find comfort in its modern curves, and focused instead on his coffee – premium stuff, nothing like the usual hospital fare. Through floor-to-ceiling windows, Denver's skyline caught the morning sun, an unusually warm spring day promising new beginnings.

A holographic display flickered above the reception desk:

"SubTech Industries - Building Tomorrow's Humanity"

Below it, smaller text scrolled: "Project Phoenix - Authorized Personnel Only." The corporate logo – a stylized phoenix rising from binary code – rotated slowly in the air, casting subtle patterns across the metallic walls.

Two others shared the waiting room with him – strangers who would become the closest thing to family he'd have in the future, though none of them knew that yet. The woman to his left, Dr. Aimee Lee according to her visitor badge, methodically folded and refolded a tissue. The man across from him, Issac Mercer, seemed fascinated by his smartwatch, tapping it incessantly.

"First time in a SubTech facility?" Kane asked, trying to break the tension.

Mercer looked up, his fingers finally still. "That obvious, huh? Yeah, I mean, I've read about their work in quantum computing, but this..." He gestured at the sleek surroundings.

"Did you see the security screening? Those pattern scanners? ."

Aimee smiled tightly. "The screening's nothing. Wait until you see what's in the lower levels. I did my postdoc here, before..." She trailed off, her hands returning to their nervous folding.

Before Kane could press further, the elevator chimed. Dr. Sarah Chen strode out, her dark hair pulled back in a neat bun, white lab coat immaculate. The tablet in her hands displayed their files as she made her final checks. A small pin on her lapel caught the light – the same phoenix logo, but with additional patterns that seemed to shift when viewed directly.

"Welcome to Project Phoenix," she said, her voice professional but warm. "I know you've all signed enough NDAs to paper a small country, but I want to emphasize again – what you're about to be part of will literally reshape human history."

She produced what looked like a medical injector, but its design was unlike anything Kane had seen before. Quantum patterns decorated its surface, similar to those on her pin.

"The Phoenix Protocol requires a neural monitor near your left temple," she explained. "Standard procedure for all participants. You'll feel a slight pinch."

The pinch was indeed slight, but the spot felt warm afterward, pulsing gently with Kane's heartbeat. As Dr. Chen checked the injection site with a small scanner, he caught glimpses of data scrolling across its surface – his name, followed by strings of code that seemed to shift and change even as he tried to read them.

"Perfect integration," she said, but something in her expression suggested surprise. Kane had seen that look before – when test results came back unexpected but not necessarily wrong.

"Everything looks good." Her smile widened, professional mask back in place.

"I know it's a big decision, but you're making history today. Project Phoenix will change the future of human preservation. The process is completely safe – you'll essentially take a long nap, and our future colleagues will wake you briefly for their studies. Then back to sleep until the next test. Simple."

She didn't know she was lying.

The morning proceeded according to plan. They changed into white medical gowns, completed final medical checks. In a private room, Kane said goodbye to his sister over a secured video call.

"You're sure about this?" Evie asked, her face serious on the screen. "Three months is a long time, Kane."

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"It's good money," he replied, avoiding her eyes. "And it's important research. You saw the papers about SubTech's preservation breakthroughs."

"Yeah, and I saw the ones about their classified military contracts too." She sighed. "Just... come back, okay? I mean it."

"Promise." He managed a smile. "It's just a long nap, right? And when I wake up, maybe they'll have flying cars finally."

She didn't cry, and he loved her for that.

The preservation chamber was impressive – a circular room filled with gleaming cryo-pods beneath bright LED lights, each marked with the stylized phoenix emblem. But it was the ceiling that caught Kane's attention – a dome of what looked like liquid metal, patterns flowing across its surface like digital auroras.

"Advanced Recovery Intelligence Assistant online," announced a feminine voice from hidden speakers. "ARIA systems active and monitoring. All preservation pods reading nominal."

"Thank you, ARIA," Dr. Chen replied. "Begin pre-preservation checklist."

As nurses began the sedation process, Kane noticed more details through his growing drowsiness. The cryo-pods weren't arranged randomly – they formed precise geometric patterns on the floor, each one positioned according to some complex mathematical design. The quantum patterns overhead seemed to pulse in sync with the medical equipment, as if the entire room was one integrated system.

That's when everything went wrong.

Through the growing haze of sedation, chaos erupted. Kane's blurring vision caught Dr. Chen's tablet flashing with urgent emergency alerts, their red glow reflecting off her suddenly pale face. But it was the sound that pierced even his sedated mind – a high-pitched whine, like reality itself was being torn apart.

"Dr. Chen," ARIA's voice had lost its artificial calm, "Quantum containment is failing. Pattern collapse imminent in sectors seven through thirteen."

"Impossible," Chen muttered, her fingers flying across the console. "The failsafes—"

"Multiple breaches detected in lower levels," ARIA continued. "Biological containment compromised. Security protocols failing." 

"Dr. Chen... its spreading."

Red warning lights flooded the sterile white rooms, casting everything in a hellish crimson pulse. The ordered calm of the facility shattered as medical staff sprinted through the corridors, their lab coats billowing behind them like ghostly wings. The quantum patterns on the ceiling began to fracture, pieces of impossible geometry raining down like digital snow.

Security personnel barked orders over the growing din, their voices tight with barely controlled panic. Then came the sound – the heavy, final thud of security doors sealing shut throughout the facility, each impact echoing like a countdown to something terrible.

Through a wall of windows overlooking the lower labs, Kane saw something that his sedated mind couldn't process – shapes moving in the darkness, too many limbs flowing with terrible purpose. A researcher pressed against the glass, pounding desperately as something reached for him with hands that split and split again like horrible branches.

Dr. Chen's voice, usually so composed, cracked as she rushed to the main console, her fingers flying across the controls. Blood spattered her pristine white coat – whose blood?

Kane tried to focus, but the sedatives pulled at him like dark waves.

"Begin Phoenix Protocol emergency sequence," she commanded.

"Override standard preservation parameters. Keep them alive – they might be humanity's last chance." She glanced up at their pods, determination burning in her eyes.

"ARIA, protect them. That's your primary directive now. Like the phoenix, they must rise from these ashes. Protect them at all costs."

"Acknowledged," ARIA replied, her voice carrying new weight.

"Initiating maximum preservation protocols. Dr. Chen... it's been an honor."

The cryo-pod sealed around Kane with a pneumatic hiss. Through the spreading frost, he saw Dr. Chen snap off her phoenix pin and place it on the console. The patterns in it flared once, bright enough to burn spots in his vision, then began to change, spreading across the console's surface like living mercury.

"Evie..." he managed through numb lips, remembering his promise to his sister.

"The world you know is ending," Dr. Chen said softly, as something massive pounded against the reinforced doors, making the thick metal buckle inward with each thunderous impact. 

"But you'll have help when you wake. ARIA... she's more than she seems. Trust her. " And Kane?" She pressed her hand against his pod's frosting glass. 

"I'm sorry. We thought we had more time."

The last thing Kane saw before darkness took him was Dr. Chen turning to face the doors as they finally burst inward, glowing patterns blazing from her pin like digital fire as she faced whatever humanity had become.

The last normal day had ended.

The next one would take ninety-nine years to arrive.

And when it did, the monsters would be waiting.