The alarm blared at 5:30 AM, shattering the fragile quiet of my room. I sat up, rubbing my temples. Sleep had been a distant hope the last night's—my mind wouldn’t stop replaying the scene of the paper in my hand that signified my ownership of Alpha.
But there was a mountain of paperwork connected to that document. Endless forms, reports, and protocols—each one meticulously tied to the transfer of Alpha's ownership. Every detail meticulously documented, as though SynLife had anticipated my hesitation from the start. I had spent hours, perhaps days, buried in that sea of bureaucracy. It was as if the company had preemptively shielded itself from any possible doubt or regret, locking me into obligations I couldn’t walk away from.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, scrolling through endless tabs of legal jargon. The complexity of the ownership transfer wasn’t just about the exchange of Alpha. It extended to countless layers—regulatory hurdles, permissions, legal waivers, even the consent from the higher-ups. It felt like an exercise in futility, yet I couldn’t stop the gnawing feeling in my chest.
Who had thought burocraty was a good plan? The thought refused to leave me. My mind,annoyed by the endless documents began daydreaming and relentless it latched onto every possibility, every scenario that could have played out differently. I couldn’t escape the what-ifs. What if Alpha hadn’t escaped quietly? What if, instead of slipping away into the shadows, he had broken free in a storm of violence?
The image came unbidden—Alpha, tearing through the facility like a ghost. His synthetic claws ripping through flesh, his synthetic eyes glowing with a terrifying intensity. The guards falling, the doors crumbling under his wrath. The complex consumed by chaos..
I could almost hear the sound of his footsteps reverberating through the sterile halls. The echoes of his slaugther as he tore through everything in his path. A primal, feral instinct—themain facility's AI’s grip severed, unable to contain him.
That image of my lifes work, of Alpha becoming something monstrous, haunted me. What if he had fought back instead of fleeing? What if the AI had never fully decoupled his heart, never shut him down as protocol dictated? What if he had fought, or that had failed to stop him?
The thought was unbearable. But I couldn’t escape it. I could feel the shadows of that possibility creeping into my mind, wrapping around every thought. What if the AI’s control had faltered, or what if Alpha had simply refused to comply? What if…
A sharp knock at the door broke my train of thought. I dragged my eyes away from the cluttered desk, my heart thudding in my chest. I wasn’t sure how long I had been lost in those dark musings.
“Marcus?” Ellis’s voice came through the door, hesitant and careful. “You okay?”
I took a breath, trying to steady myself. “Yeah,” I murmured, forcing a calm I didn’t feel. “Come in.”
The door creaked open, and Ellis stepped inside, his expression guarded. He glanced at the mess of papers strewn across my desk, the monitors still lit up with forms and data. His eyes flickered with concern.
“You’ve been at this all day,” Ellis said, his voice tinged with a mixture of annoyance and worry. “What’s going on with you?”
I didn’t answer right away, my gaze fixed on the screen. The memory of Alpha’s potential violence was still too fresh, too vivid. “Just… thinking,” I muttered.
Ellis stepped closer, crossing his arms. “About what?” His tone was sharper now, impatient.
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I hesitated, biting my lip. The question hung between us, but the thought of telling him what I was really imagining felt too dangerous. Instead, I shrugged. “About Alpha,” I admitted. “The situation, everything that happened. What if…”
Ellis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Marcus, we didn’t lose control. He didn't break out. We stopped him.”
“I know that,” I said, my voice softer, though the tension in my chest remained. “But what if we didn’t? What if he broke free? What if he became the thing he was designed for here against all of us?”
Ellis shot me a sharp look. “You’ve been on this for hours. You’re letting your mind wander down paths that don’t matter anymore. We handled it. The AI regained control. Alpha is where he’s supposed to be—compliant, subdued, and undercontrol. That’s what matters.”
I didn’t respond, my thoughts elsewhere. The image of Alpha, unleashed and uncontrollable, loomed in my mind like a nightmare I couldn’t shake. The idea of him—the force he could have become—felt like a distant, agonizing reality I couldn’t dismiss.
“Marcus,” Ellis said, his voice more urgent now. “We don’t have the luxury to dwell on ‘what ifs.’ The company can’t afford instability, and neither can you.”
I finally met his gaze, feeling the weight of his words. But the fear and uncertainty lingered. “What if they underestimated him?” I whispered. “What if he’s capable of more than they thought?”
Ellis hesitated, his expression hardening. “They didn’t underestimate him. The systems are working as intended. The AI won’t let him slip through the cracks. You of all people should know that.”
I nodded, though doubt still gnawed at the edges of my mind. The reality that Alpha could have done something entirely different wasn’t something I could simply shake off. No matter how much Ellis or someone else tried to reassure me, I couldn’t ignore the possibilities that haunted my thoughts.
----------------------------------------
Later that day, the call came. It was unexpected, from the SynLife office building, and it sent a fresh wave of anxiety through me. I answered it reluctantly, my mind still consumed by the echoes of my earlier musings.
It was Stanton the boss of marketing—his smooth, unfeeling voice cutting through the line like a blade.
“Marcus,” Stanton said, his tone calm but carrying an undertone of coldness. “We need to talk about your projects.”
I braced myself, preparing for whatever was about to come had they found out about the replaced core or was it something worse?
“There’s been some…marketing concern,” Stanton continued. “Public opinion, Marcus. SynLife’s image is paramount, and we hadn't the public showcase we envisioned.”
I clenched my jaw, my pulse quickening. “What do you mean?”
“The investors aren’t pleased.” Stanton’s tone shifted ever so slightly, colder. “The public didn’t see the drones as a thing they could aquire on their own. Quite the opposite. the last presentation was… less than ideal. We have to adjust the narrative. You know how this works.”
I inhaled sharply. “And what exactly do you want from me?”
“We’ve decided to lower the price we initially set for some of the drones like the Epilision units ,” Stanton said. “But there are conditions for the lowered cost of the stalker unit You aquired. You need to take a drone of your choosing, one from within the facility, and showcase it to the public. Not an auction. Not a presentation with all that pomp and circumstance. A simple open display. A product on the streets.”
I clenched my fists. “A product?”
“Yes,” Stanton said, as if speaking to a child. “We need a clean, controlled marketing effort. No dramatics, no risks. Just… normalization.”
I sat in silence, the weight of his words pressing down on me. This wasn’t about Alpha anymore. It was about damage control, about making sure SynLife’s image wasn’t tarnished.
“Do you understand?” Stanton asked.
“Yes,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
The line went dead. I stared at the screen, the room spinning around me. Alpha wasn’t something of worth to them. He was just another product. Another cog in their machine. but to me he was becoming my lives work
I wanted to lash out, to scream, to throw the papers scattered on my desk. But instead, I sat there, breathing through the growing fury.
Within the hour, I stood just outside the complex, the cold air biting at my face waiting for the mechanics of james team to finish checking Alpha. The facility loomed before me—sterile, unfeeling, Ellis and James waited nearby, their expressions tight, wary.
“Marcus, this is madness,” Ellis said, his tone sharp. “An Epilision drone would be far more appropriate for this kind of exposure. They’re designed for public display and safety, for stability a—”
“No,” I cut him off, my voice firm. “I own Alpha. thats why, not because he is designed for that or something else .”
James didn’t argue. He only watched, his silence speaking volumes.
“I won’t let him try to escape ,” I said, more to myself than to them.