Chapter 13: The Experiment Begins.
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Scene 1: The Voice of The Order.
Voices.
Low, clinical, detached.
Lucian could not see them, could not even feel their presence, but they surrounded him like unseen phantoms, speaking in hushed tones that carried the weight of authority.
"Neural integration is stable."
"Cognitive function remains intact. No signs of rejection."
Their words sent a slow, crawling horror through him. They were talking about him. Studying him, measuring him, as if he were nothing more than a project on a sterile operating table.
"Good. Proceed to phase two."
Phase two?
Lucian tried to react—to move, to fight, to thrash against the void. But he had no body to resist with. No arms to strain, no legs to kick, no voice to scream.
The nothingness held him still.
A new voice entered the space. Deeper, colder. The kind of voice that did not raise itself to demand attention because it did not need to.
Dr. Voss.
"Subject’s cognitive function is intact. Excellent."
There was no acknowledgment of his terror. No surprise at his awareness.
They had expected him to be awake.
A sickening realization struck him, hitting deeper than any physical wound.
This was never an accident.
This was never a malfunction.
They had not killed him. They had remade him.
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The weight of it settled in like iron shackles around his mind, crushing, suffocating.
"Begin phase two of the integration."
Lucian’s mind rebelled, his thoughts slamming against an invisible wall.
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
The whispers continued, the scientists speaking over him, around him, like he was already gone.
"He is the prototype."
Prototype.
The word was sharp, mechanical, void of humanity.
Not a man. Not a person.
A prototype.
"If One succeeds, we move forward with mass production."
Mass production.
His thoughts stalled.
There would be more.
More like him.
Lucian tried to scream. To break free. To become again.
Nothing happened.
The darkness around him remained unchanged, his thoughts the only thing still burning, still resisting.
But for how long?
The last voice before the void swallowed him whole:
"Subject One is ready for reconfiguration."
Lucian Graves was gone.
And in his place, One remained.
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Scene 2: A Mind Without a Body.
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The voices did not stop.
Lucian could not see them. Could not feel them. Could not exist in any way that mattered. But they were still there. Cold. Methodical. Reducing him to numbers and data points in a system that did not care about what he was before.
"Cognitive function remains stable."
"Sensory dampening is holding. No pain response detected."
"Adaptive reconfiguration is progressing as expected."
Lucian wanted to scream, to thrash against the invisible chains that held him in place. But there were no chains. No restraints. Just absence.
No sensation. No body.
Only his thoughts, raw and trapped inside a cage of silence.
A new voice, devoid of emotion, spoke the words that shattered something deep inside him.
"One is stable."
One.
Not Lucian.
Not even Subject One.
Just… One.
The name slithered into his mind like poison, settling in, latching on.
They were erasing him.
Lucian tried to reject it, to hold on to something—anything—of himself. But the walls were closing in, the weight of their indifference pressing against his mind, suffocating the last remnants of who he had been.
No. No, I’m not One. I’m not One.
But even as he thought it, the name had already taken root.
The voices continued, oblivious to his silent rebellion.
"Neurological resistance is within acceptable parameters."
"One is adapting faster than expected."
Adapting.
Like he was meant to fit into this mold. Like he was never meant to resist.
His body—if it could still be called that—remained motionless. Even the most basic functions were controlled, regulated. His breathing was not his own. His heartbeat did not belong to him.
He wanted to fight.
But to them, his struggle was nothing more than another data point in their experiment.
His resistance was not defiance.
It was merely expected.
"Initiate next phase of integration."
Lucian’s mind recoiled, but there was nowhere to go.
The voices faded.
The darkness deepened.
The walls of his mind closed in.
Lucian Graves was slipping away.
And One was taking his place.
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