Emerging from the transport pod, Quentin was ushered into a stark, brightly lit sealed room. The walls were composed of steel plates, and the room was barren except for rows of thumb-sized holes in each upper corner.
“Hiss…” Shortly after Quentin entered, a thin white mist sprayed from these holes, filling the room.
Poison gas? Is this the end for me? Quentin's mind swirled, and for the first time, a flicker of disturbance crossed his clear, pure eyes.
“Bang!” The sound of the steam restraint suit hitting the floor soon followed.
...
Northeastern North America, Federal Military Sector 91.
Before the unification of the human federation, history was rife with enigmas and mysterious locales like the Bermuda Triangle, the Tunguska event, and the Indian Death Hills, to name a few.
However, as human technology advanced, many of these mysteries were unraveled. There are few such enigmas left in the current human federation, but Military Sector 91 remains one of these enigmatic places.
Centuries ago, in the dense forests of the northeast, a modest explosion occurred. The United States military cordoned off the area, declaring it a seismic disaster.
After human unification, the federal military established Sector 91 and began to secretly gather elite scientists.
The explosion from centuries past was not extensive, with a diameter of only hundreds of meters, creating a spherical crater. The missing chunks of cliff and ground were smoothly concave, and the rocks and soil were crystallized. Most shocking was the unstable space-time rift that formed within this spherical zone.
These rifts varied in size. The smaller ones appeared frequently but lasted only microseconds. The larger rifts occurred every few years or decades, depending on the surrounding energy, and could sustain for seconds to minutes.
Limited by technology and power, the United States gained little from Sector 91. But with the unified federation's scientific might, researchers began to study the physical phenomena of space-time rifts. In a stroke of luck, scientists extracted a small piece of mysterious metal from a rift using magnetic light.
This sliver of metal, composed of unknown elements, was incredibly lightweight and performed better than the best aerospace materials of the time, even under extreme temperatures. It was also a memory metal, capable of self-repair to some extent. This discovery led to several significant advancements in aerospace and military technology for the human federation.
Tasting success, the federation increased its investment in Sector 91, even considering sending military personnel into the space-time rifts. The first test subject, a husky, resulted in an unexpected tragedy—the dog's head, upon entering the rift, vanished as if cleaved by a guillotine.
Undeterred by failure, the federal scientists eventually sent a team of military and scientific personnel into the largest and most stable rift yet, retrieving only one survivor.
This scientist returned with three items: a medieval teapot, the skeletal remains of an extraterrestrial creature, and a small space transporter.
Setting aside the medieval teapot, the extraterrestrial remains advanced the federation's biotechnology leaps and bounds, achieving true limb regeneration. The space transporter became the cornerstone of the federation's current Sky Rail transportation technology.
The significance of Sector 91 to the human federation was immeasurable. Yet the hero who returned from the rift was brain-dead upon arrival, becoming a vegetative patient. Strictly speaking, all thirty-two members of that elite team perished, none returning to the human world with their consciousness intact.
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In the two centuries since, no rift as large and stable as that one has appeared in Sector 91. The space-time phenomena in the explosion area seem to be fading, with large rifts occurring less frequently, now almost a decade apart, and their duration rapidly declining.
In other words, the space-time phenomena of the spherical area might completely vanish at some point. Simultaneously, the risks of sending humans into the rifts have increased over time.
Most who enter the rifts are instantly shredded by the chaotic space-time flows. A few manage to enter but get lost on the other side due to the rifts' brief existence.
Only a fortunate few return in time, but all are brain-dead upon arrival, becoming vegetative patients, with few of the returned items being of real value.
Nowadays, Sector 91 no longer sends scientists or military personnel into the rifts but instead uses death row inmates from prisons worldwide for this perilous task. They are told a beautiful fairy tale: if they return successfully, they will be pardoned by the federation, spared from death and labor, to start anew—with the caveat of being a vegetative patient in a hospital bed.
Half-buried underground, Sector 91 is a massive niche-structured building. The box-shaped top of the niche structure connects directly to the spherical explosion area from centuries ago.
Within this area, the air ripples like water, with free-state particles flickering on and off, darting through the air like electric arcs.
“Doctor, how are the preparations coming along?”
In the control center of Sector 91, a general-looking federal officer inquired, his gaze fixed on the large surveillance screen.
“Based on the supercomputer's calculations, this rift appears once every seventeen years, and its size is still uncertain, but it should be large enough for an adult to pass through,” replied the silver-haired doctor nervously. “The free particles accelerated their trajectory three days ago. If they maintain this course, the space-time rift is likely to appear in the next few days!”
...
Inside a medical room in Sector 91, Quentin's eyelids twitched as he slowly opened his eyes. The bright light made him squint, and as his pupils contracted, his vision cleared.
“Clang!” As Quentin attempted to sit up, he felt immense restraints on his limbs and waist. Turning his head slightly, he saw sturdy leather straps around his wrists, a familiar sight from his countless bindings in the psychiatric hospital.
“You're awake!” A soft voice reached his ears.
Quentin turned to see a young girl in a nurse's uniform approaching him.
The nurse appeared underage, her chubby round face tinged with baby fat, her skin rosy and fair, her large eyes bright and pure, and a smattering of freckles lending her a playful charm.
She was average in looks, but the G-cup mounds straining against her uniform added significantly to her appeal. Baby-faced, buxom beauty! Quentin realized that the girl must be of age, her ample chest belying her youthful face.
“Lily, don't talk to him; he's dangerous!” A cool female voice sounded from behind the nurse.
“I'm sorry, Hugh!” Lily stuck out her tongue at Quentin and whispered, “Don’t be scared, we're just going to do a physical check on you!”
“Click, click, click!” The sound of high heels approached as an expressionless, stunningly beautiful woman entered Quentin's view.
Having been transferred to a psychiatric ward at twelve, a juvenile detention center at fifteen, and Nevada's maximum-security prison at sixteen, Quentin had little contact with the outside world. His knowledge and aesthetic standards were confined to books. Even so, he immediately recognized that the woman before him was a striking beauty.
She had a delicate oval face, skin smooth as silk, and eyes like autumn waters beneath long lashes, occasionally betraying a hint of seduction. However, her slightly arched brows and frosty demeanor gave her a distant and cold allure.
This beauty, referred to as Hugh by Nurse Lily, was likely a doctor. Her crisp footsteps brought her swiftly to the side of the stretcher. Although Quentin couldn't see her lower body due to his position, she stood half a head taller than Lily, suggesting a tall frame.
His vision darkened as the doctor leaned over, blocking the light above the stretcher while flipping his eyelids upwards. A faint scent wafted into his nostrils, and as he glanced downward, he noticed a white name tag on her uniform pocket with "Hugh" inscribed on it.
His gaze shifted and caught a glimpse of perky peaks and the pale cleavage between them through the neckline of her uniform.
Hugh quickly noticed the direction of the inmate's gaze, and a flash of annoyance crossed her beautiful eyes.
“Lily, give him a sedative!”
“But... Hugh, the sedative might skew the test results!” Lily looked worriedly at the inmate on the stretcher.
“It doesn't matter, as long as he doesn't have any contagious diseases or terminal illnesses,” Hugh dismissed with a wave of her hand.
“How pitiful, you seem to have angered Hugh!” Lily pursed her lips apologetically as she injected the sedative into Quentin's arm.
Quentin felt himself sinking into a frigid lake, everything around him blurring. Sounds became muffled as if coming from afar, and sleepiness overtook him...