The pressurized door slid open with a hiss, revealing the steel platform beyond. Simon stepped forward, his boots clanking dully against the cold metal. Just a few more moments—just a few more steps—and he would finally be free of this place. He would be in the ARK with Catherine. Not trapped at the bottom of a dead ocean, surrounded by the remnants of a gone world .

His eyes locked onto his salvation—the railgun. It loomed ahead, its massive frame standing idle within the domed launch chamber. The long barrel rested against a network of supports, angled toward the heavens. The dome itself was constructed of thick metal beams, interlocking in a reinforced rhomboid pattern.

Simon let out a shaky breath, his thoughts flickering back to the nightmare he had barely survived.

"I hope that big bastard can’t get through…'"he muttered , his voice hoarse.

He could still hear it in his head—the monstrous thing that had nearly torn him apart before he reached Phi. It no longer resembled the creature it once was. It had grown. Changed. Warped into something even worse. A hulking mass of flesh and machine, its body lined with plated growths, pulsating with the eerie blue glow of WAU receptors. The fins that once guided it through the abyss had twisted into grotesque mandibles, and in the center of its maw burned a single, blood-red eye.

But the worst part—the part Simon could never forget—were the faces.

Human faces. Dozens of them. Twisted in eternal screams, fused into the creature’s body, their mouths gaping, their eyes pleading for a salvation that would never come.

Simon tore his gaze away from the thought and looked down at his left arm—or what remained of it.

Below the elbow, there was nothing but a ragged, bloodied stump. It still dripped sluggishly, though he barely felt the pain anymore. He wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. A reminder of what he had done. He had destroyed WAU—poisoned its heart out with his own hand. And in return, it had taken something from him.

Still, despite the blood loss, he didn’t feel any weaker. Maybe because, in a way, this body wasn’t even alive.

Simon swallowed hard and forced his thoughts back to the present. He had to focus. Once he was out of here, once he was in the ARK, this would all seem like a bad dream.

He moved forward, stepping onto the raised platform where the pilot seat and control panel waited. The chair looked intact—a sturdy frame with a dome that would come down over his head. He cast a quick glance over it. Not that he understood exactly how it worked, but as long as it functioned, that was all that mattered.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for his belt and pulled out the Omnitool. The battered device had been through hell, just like him.

The Omnitool was mostly metal and plastic, its body a dull gray with faded yellow highlights. The red lacquer coating was scratched and worn, revealing the layers beneath. A thin antenna protruded from the top, alongside exchangers and various diodes, some of which flickered weakly. The rubber grip on the right side was peeling, and the safety switch on the back was half-broken.

His gaze lingered on the left side of the device—where the cortex chip was housed. The chip that contained Catherine’s consciousness.

A snapshot of her. A ghost in a machine.

The chip was covered in dark, cancerous growths from exposure to structure gel. Maybe that was why it had lasted this long. Maybe that was why she had lasted this long.

The Omnitool clicked into place on the panel, and within seconds, the screen flickered to life.

“Whoa… I’ll never get used to that,” Catherine said.

Simon exhaled sharply. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed hearing her voice.

“Guess you won’t have to,” he said, relief thick in his tone. “Not after this is over.”

“Right,” Catherine said, her voice steadier now. “Alright, have a seat.”

Simon didn’t need to be told twice. He moved quickly, lowering himself into the pilot chair.

“Comfortable?” Catherine asked.

“As good as it’s gonna get,” Simon muttered.

“Okay, I’m activating the seat now,” she said. “You should be able to use the controls to load the bullet you assembled.”

Simon reached for the left panel, but the moment his stump twitched uselessly, he grimaced. Right. No left arm.

The upper dome of the chair slowly descended over him, enclosing him in a cold embrace. From the side, a control panel slid into place—a keyboard and two screens. One of them displayed Catherine’s face, the other…

Simon’s breath caught in his throat.

Through a camera feed, he saw it. The railgun. The massive bullet standing upright, secured within its launch frame.

A bullet as tall as a man. And inside it—the ARK.

A lifeboat for humanity. A digital Eden, untouched by the horrors of the real world.

His escape. His salvation.

It was there, just waiting. Just moments away from soaring into the sky, breaking free from this cold, endless graveyard. Inside that capsule was the paradise he had fought for. The paradise he had bled for.

He could almost see it—the sprawling landscapes, the shimmering rivers, the artificial sky stretching endlessly overhead. The people, waiting. Catherine, waiting.

He was so close.

“How do I operate this thing?” Simon asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t know,” Catherine admitted. “I’ve never used this model before. But Pilot Seats are supposed to be easy to use, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

The chair beeped as it finished booting up. The controls came to life.

This was it.

Simon’s fingers hovered over the interface. His heart pounded against his ribs.

One step closer.

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One step away from paradise.

He took a deep breath—and began.

Strangely, he felt deeply connected to the system, like he was controlling his own body.

‘That’s good,’ Simon thought, ‘because I don’t know how I could operate this thing with just one arm.’

He carefully maneuvered the crane beside the railgun, guiding the bullet into its chamber with slow precision. The machinery responded almost instinctively, as though it was merely an extension of himself. The heavy payload settled into place with a dull thud, followed by a series of mechanical locks clamping it securely. The system hummed as the process completed, and then, with a final confirmation beep, the upper part of the chair lifted, releasing Simon from its embrace.

He turned his gaze to the railgun, which trembled slightly as its payload was secured. The lights around it flared to life, bathing the chamber in an eerie red glow.

“Okay. Ready when you are. Just hit the button, and we’re off,” Catherine said, her voice crackling through the speakers.

“But we need to transfer our minds to the ARK,” Simon said quickly, his heart hammering in his chest.

“We also need to make sure it launches at all, so I tied them to a single switch. Just push the button, and we are off,” Catherine instructed.

To his left, a large red button lit up.

Simon’s intact right hand hovered over it for a brief moment. Then, with a deep breath, he pressed it.

The displays flickered, their readouts changing rapidly. The main screen directly in front of him displayed Scan Program Initializing, while a second screen to his right began a countdown: 30 seconds.

A robotic voice echoed through the chamber: "Launch commencing in 30 seconds."

Simon exhaled. “Here we go. No turning back,” he said, a shaky cheerfulness in his voice. He was so close to leaving this place behind.

“Thank you, Simon,” Catherine said.

Simon blinked. “Don’t mention it.”

“It’s an amazing thing you did, and I want you to know that I appreciate it,” she added, just as the upper portion of the chair descended.

Then he felt it.

A tingling sensation rippling through his skull. Something scanning him, dissecting him on a level he couldn’t comprehend. The process of transferring his consciousness to the ARK had begun.

The screens confirmed it: Scan Program Running. Two progress bars appeared. The first read Catherine C., and it was filling quickly. The second, labeled Simon J., remained empty for now.

20 seconds. The countdown continued.

Halfway through Catherine’s upload, her progress bar froze.

Simon’s stomach twisted. Her transfer needed to finish before his could even begin.

“What’s the matter with the upload?” Simon asked, panic creeping into his voice.

“Just give it a second,” Catherine said calmly.

Simon forced a breath. “Thought you guys would have better bandwidth in the future,” he joked weakly.

At 12 seconds, Catherine’s bar suddenly completed. Immediately, Simon’s began to fill.

Then it stopped.

9.

8.

7.

Each second felt like a hammer striking his skull.

After everything—everything he had been through, all the horrors he had faced, all the sacrifices—was it about to mean nothing?

The bar inched forward.

6.

Barely a third of the way.

“You gotta be kidding me!” Simon shouted, his voice cracking with desperation.

5.

4.

The bar reached halfway.

3.

“Come on, load!” he pleaded.

2.

At the last possible moment, the bar surged forward, filling entirely.

“Yes! Yes, fuck yeah, we made it! Ha-ha! Woo!” Simon cheered, elation flooding his voice.

Launch engaged.

The robotic voice declared it with finality.

The chamber trembled. The railgun lit up with arcs of electricity, and a deafening roar filled the dome. The ARK was gone.

Then the chair released him.

Simon sat there for a moment, catching his breath. Something felt...off.

He looked around. The railgun’s lights dimmed. The dome returned to its eerie, mechanical silence.

He was still here.

Simon’s breath hitched. “I’m still here? I’m still here?” he repeated, his voice trembling.

The realization clawed at him like a cold hand wrapping around his throat.

“Catherine?” Simon called. Then, louder: “Catherine?!”

His eyes darted to the screen.

“What the hell happened? What went wrong?!” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Catherine replied, her voice infuriatingly calm. “They’re out there, among the stars. We’re here.”

Simon’s blood ran cold. “No,” he breathed. “We were getting on the ARK. I saw it. It finished loading just before launch.”

“Yeah. I saw it too,” Catherine said simply.

“Then why are we still here?!” Simon snapped, his composure shattering.

Catherine sighed. “Simon, I can’t keep explaining this. You know why. You were copied onto the ARK. You just didn’t carry over. You lost the coin toss. We both did. Just like Simon at Omicron. Just like the man who died in Toronto a hundred years ago.”

Simon’s hands curled into trembling fists. “No. No. No. This is bullshit! We came all this way. We launched the ARK!”

“I know it sucks, but our copies are up there. Catherine and Simon are safe on the ARK. Be happy for them.”

Simon let out a choked laugh. “Are you insane?! We’re going to die down here while those fuckers live it up in space! They aren’t us!” His voice cracked as he slammed his fist into the armrest. “They aren’t us!”

Catherine hesitated, then softly, “I’m sorry you feel that way, Simon. But I’m proud of what we did. We ensured that something of humanity survives—that something lives on.”

Her words were daggers, each one twisting deeper.

“No. No, no, fuck this! Fuck you!" Simon jabbed a shaking finger at the screen. If she had a body, he would have strangled her.

“Fuck you, Catherine!” he roared. “You lied! And I trusted you! You said we were getting on the fucking ARK!”

Catherine finally snapped. “We are on the ARK, you idiot! I didn’t lie! I can’t be responsible for your goddamn ignorance, you fucki-”

The line cut out.

A sharp electric pop.

The screen flickered, then cracked.

Silence.

Simon turned to the Omnitool slot. Sparks flickered from the cortex chip. The screen was dark.

His hand trembled as he reached out, touching the broken monitor.

“Catherine?” His voice was barely a whisper. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

Darkness swallowed the room.

Silence.

Total, maddening silence.

Simon sat in the chair like a puppet with its strings cut.

His mind blacked out.

There was nothing he could do.

He was at the bottom of the ocean. The station was dead—silent, lifeless, drained of energy, just like him.

“I wish my battery would just drain... just like the other Simon. The Simon I killed.” Simon muttered to himself, his voice hollow, almost detached.

He remembered how he got into this body. How, just like this time, he had believed his consciousness would be transferred. But no—it had only been copied. A cruel trick of fate, played on him once again.

He could almost hear that other Simon’s voice, confused, desperate, calling for Catherine, asking why he was still in his old body. Begging for an explanation.

Simon’s remaining hand gripped the chair arm as the memory resurfaced—how he had drained his old self's battery with a mere press of a touch panel. A mercy kill. To spare him from suffering, to make sure he wouldn’t be alone in this hell.

And yet, here he was. Alone. Trapped in darkness. Just like the other Simon.

How much time had passed? Days? Hours? Minutes? It didn’t matter.

Simon just sat there, unmoving.

Then—

A flicker. A hum.

The lights above flickered to life, casting dim illumination over the room. The system had rebooted.

Simon raised his gaze, his hollow eyes sharpening with renewed determination.

“Fuck you, Catherine. I’m not gonna die here,” he growled, his voice thick with defiance.

Something stirred inside him. A force—a spark—that refused to let him give up.

He pushed himself to his feet, his body sluggish but fueled by sheer will. Staggering forward, he reached the sealed door and stopped before the control panel.

The words on the display read:

Omnitool required.

Simon clenched his fist. He didn’t have an Omnitool anymore—not one that worked. But then, a thought struck him. Throughout his misfortunes, he had interacted with electronics in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. Reading the blackboxes of the dead crew, listening to intercoms with just a touch—his mind had somehow connected with them.

A cold, thrilling possibility sparked through him.

He lifted his good hand and pressed it against the panel.

“Close,” he whispered, half in desperation, half in command.

Nothing happened.

Simon exhaled sharply. His breath hitched, disappointment sinking into his chest—

Then—

Access Granted.

The words blinked onto the display.

The door groaned, metal grinding against metal as it slid shut, sealing behind him. Water gushed downward as the room began draining, the pressure equalizing. Then, with a final hiss, the door ahead unlocked and slid open.

Simon stepped forward, his breath steadying. The control deck lay ahead, , the only path forward.

“Cool,” he muttered, before stepping inside.