I hadn’t noticed it before, but Selene didn’t wear the same clothes as everyone else. She wore an oversized gray hoodie, its sleeves slightly too long, swallowing her hands when she wasn’t using them. Her slim jeans were scuffed at the knees, and her sneakers—once white—were now stained with the wear of countless steps. Strands of long brown hair slipped out from under the hood, flowing freely over her shoulders, swaying as she moved. She wasn’t the type to overdo anything—her makeup was minimal, just a light touch around her eyes, enough to enhance her sharp, observant stare. Everything about her screamed "effortless," but I had the distinct feeling that not a single part of her appearance was accidental. It all blended in perfectly back on Earth.
But on a post-Cold War spaceship? She might as well have been wearing a clown suit.
Everyone else sported sleek, white jumpsuits, clearly tailored for both comfort and function. They had that "astronaut chic" vibe, complete with badges sewn on to mark different missions. Two of them had matching insignias, while the other three had their own variations, each looking just official enough to make my lack of credentials glaringly obvious. The suits were packed with strategically placed pockets, each one zippered and secured like they belonged to a crew that actually knew what they were doing.
Which is why I couldn’t stop thinking about Selene. What was up with her? Why was she dressed like she had just rolled out of a college dorm? Why did she—
“Stop thinking about me.” Her voice cut through my mind, sharp as a slap.
I blinked. She wasn’t in the room, nor was anyone else, but I could feel her presence. More specifically, I could feel her staring at me.
The one-way mirror loomed in front of me, a dark, featureless void reflecting my own tired expression. Behind it, I knew Selene was watching, and judging by the way my skin prickled, she wasn’t alone. The harsh overhead light flickered, buzzing faintly, casting angular shadows against the cold, steel-reinforced walls. The whole place had the aesthetic of an old-school police interrogation room—functional, suffocating, and designed to make you feel like confessing to crimes you hadn’t even committed. The air was thick with the sterile scent of metal and faint traces of disinfectant, like someone had tried to scrub away the ghosts of past interrogations but never quite succeeded.
The metal desk in front of me was bolted to the ground, and my wrists ached from the weight of the handcuffs securing me to it. The steel pressed into my skin, cold and unyielding. Even shifting slightly sent the cuffs rattling against the table, a sound that echoed in the otherwise dead-silent room. The chair beneath me was rigid and uncomfortably narrow, the kind designed to break a person down long before the questioning even started.
This was all very official. And probably bad for me. But, honestly? I couldn’t bring myself to care all that much.
“So you just stumbled across him when visiting Quadrant 228? And you’re sure it was during the timestop?” The captain’s voice crackled through my head, like an old ham radio just barely tuned into the right frequency. The signal wavered—sometimes clear, sometimes distorted, like the dial had to be twisted just right to catch the conversation. But the static, that stubborn resistance jamming my reception? That was Selene. I could feel her actively trying to block me out, like she was shoving mental white noise between us, hoping I’d get frustrated and stop listening. It wasn’t working. If anything, it made me focus harder, trying to pick apart her interference like I was fine-tuning an old broadcast. And the more I concentrated, the clearer it became: she really didn’t want me eavesdropping on this one.
Prick. A sharp stab of pain hit my neck. A vision flashed through my mind. A first-person view of someone breaking through the one-way mirror and strangling me against the table.
Wait. That was me strangling myself?
The vision vanished, and I realized—Selene had just sent me her imagination.
“You know guys don’t like violent girls,” I sent back dryly.
Another image hit me. This time, not strangulation—no, this was her ripping off my fingernails one by one, blood splattering across the table like some kind of medieval torture scene.
I recoiled. Hard. Shutting off the connection didn’t stop the lingering sensation. I could still feel her amusement, buzzing in the background like static.
She was enjoying this.
“Yes, he was still able to move and function, something I’ve never actually seen before,” Selene continued aloud, her voice cool and analytical. Even as she spoke, I could feel her mental grip tightening, pushing back against my interference. It was almost impressive—almost—how she managed to juggle both the conversation and our silent battle for control, as if keeping me out of her head was just another line item on her to-do list. “I know it was calculated—at least, the possibility of an Observer existing was theorized by my…”
Her words trailed off. For the briefest moment, something slipped through our link—not amusement, not irritation, but something softer. Sadness.
“I know Dr. Hart theorized it, but theorizing is different from observing. Do you think Felix could be working in conjunction with The Hollow?”
Even though I had never heard 'The Hollow' name before, I felt it. A name soaked in ominous weight.
Selene knew it well. If I pushed just a little deeper, maybe I could—
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Prick.
A wave of electricity shot through me, like I had just been hardwired into a generator. My muscles locked up. Vision blurred. My body collapsed, and the last thing I saw was Selene’s satisfied smirk.
Darkness.
“What about a therapist? I think you’re overdue for a session,” I felt another prick coming, but I stopped it before she could conjure another horrific scene in my mind.
“I don’t think he’s associated with The Hollow,” Selene said, her voice even. Not a single hitch in her tone. Our entire mental battle hadn’t even fazed her. “He doesn’t strike me as… competent enough to be of any use.”
I sent her the hardest prick I could muster.
“I can see where you’re coming from,” the captain responded. Now I wanted to prick him, so I shot Selene a mental image of her stabbing him for me. For some reason, she didn’t oblige.
“But I think he can still be of some use,” Reynolds continued. “You believe that he’s the reason you got stuck in the timestop?”
Selene nodded. “Yes, I do. I couldn’t figure out how to get back, but as soon as he… fell unconscious, the timestop resumed, and I was able to return to the ship.”
I sent her another prick for lying through her teeth.
“So he might be able to fully lock in the future,” the captain mused. “If that’s the case, we might finally be able to stop The Hollow. But tell me something, Selene…”
I felt her straighten in anticipation.
“Do you think Felix can see us right now?”
I froze.
Slowly, I realized I had been leaning forward, staring blankly into the mirror, completely immersed in their conversation.
Selene’s voice drifted through my head, dripping with admiration. “You’re so smart and handsome, Felix. So amazing.”
Just kidding. Thought I’d trick you, lol.
What she actually said was, “You absolute idiot, what do you think you’re doing?”
I immediately flicked my gaze to another part of the room, pretending like I hadn’t just been caught in 4K. A sharp prick told me that this only made me look worse.
“From what I’ve seen of him,” Selene continued, her voice full of deliberate irritation, “he might be a little psychotic. Like he has voices in his head or something.”
I sent another prick, but let’s be real—you saw that coming.
Reynolds didn’t say anything. He simply left the booth and walked into the room where I sat. I straightened up instinctively, my spine stiffening as if I hadn’t just been slouching like a bored teenager in detention. My cuffs clinked against the table as I shifted, feigning surprise at his arrival, even though I had known he was coming.
“So are you the good cop or the bad cop?” I asked, flashing a grin to hide the fact that I had just blown my cover.
“That depends on how you want this conversation to go,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from me. “Why don’t we start with some introductions? My name is Captain Reynolds. I’ve been stationed on the T.E.M.P.U.S. for the past twelve years, leading timestop operations and intergalactic travel. What is your name?”
I sat up straighter, instinctively falling into the “respect an officer” posture that war movies had drilled into me. But I still had to mess with him just a little.
“My name is Felix Carter, and I am the supreme leader of the galaxy. My people are called the Xenons, and we love human feet. If you have any pictures, they would be greatly appreciated.”
Reynolds stared at me. His gaze cut through me like a scalpel, peeling back layers to determine whether I was actually this much of an idiot, or if I just enjoyed acting like one.
“I thought I told you it was your choice whether you got the good cop or the bad cop,” he said dryly.
“Well, after running into Selene, anyone else is a good cop in my book.”
Selene responded with another vision—this time, me getting waterboarded. Ice-cold water poured over my face, forcing its way up my nose and down my throat. My body convulsed against invisible restraints, lungs screaming for air. Just when the burning pressure became unbearable, the vision cut out, leaving behind the ghostly sensation of drowning.
“How is your imagination so vivid?!” I recoiled before shaking it off. I needed to focus. Captain Reynolds was like a hawk—one slip, and he’d see it. And the last thing I needed was for him to start piecing together that I had some kind of ESP trick running in the background.
“I see. What exactly is your relationship with Selene?”
I debated throwing out another quip, but something about Reynolds’ composure told me that would be a terrible idea.
“To be completely frank, I ran into her at the library.”
Reynolds studied me, then gave a slight nod. He actually believed me. Which was honestly a little concerning. Not because I was lying—I wasn’t—but because he picked up on the truth way too quickly.
“What do you remember about where you came from?” I told him exactly what I told Selene, and added in the part where she (unsuccessfully) tied me up and interrogated me.
“I see,” the captain said again, leaning back as if he had started to trust me. “So what do you reckon we do next with you?”
I froze for a second, not expecting him to ask for my input in the matter. I assumed they would interrogate me and then make a decision off of that. Selene had given me her suggestion: door hatch, vacuum of space, head goes explody. It really was disturbing how fast she came up with these scenarios.
“Well, my first instinct would be to say ‘take me home, let me get back to my totally average life,’ but I’ve seen enough movies to know that’s not how this works. There’s always some ridiculous ‘you know too much’ clause. So, in the interest of self-preservation, I guess I’ll take the lesser evil—let me stay here and join your team. Yay, forced employment.”
The cap seemed intrigued by this idea. "What would you do on the ship?" His tone had that loaded quality, like a teacher asking a question they already knew the answer to. I had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t really asking—just waiting for me to figure out the role he’d already assigned me.
I leaned forward, locking eyes with him like this was the most important conversation of my life. I let the silence hang for dramatic effect, then, with the gravitas of a man about to reveal the fate of the universe, I intoned, "There is only one spot on this ship for someone like me." My voice dropped an octave, dripping with theatrical weight—like I was narrating the final battle of some over-the-top fighting game.
“And where is that?” The captain seemed to be enjoying the game he had made up for me.
“The sanitation department!” I declared with all the confidence of a man who had just discovered the meaning of life. I even threw in a triumphant nod for good measure. Reynolds, however, didn’t look impressed. His brow furrowed, his head tilting slightly, like I had just spoken a completely different language. Apparently, we were not on the same wavelength.
“I was going to suggest pairing you with a timewalker,” the captain responded, his tone almost amused, “let you travel the universe with Selene. A much more dignified position than… sanitation. Don’t you think that’s more fitting for someone of your supposed talents?”
I looked down at the table, imagining what that would be like.
“I’ll answer honestly, Captain.” My voice had lost all of its excitement. “But that might be worse than just killing me. At least then I wouldn’t have to be stuck with her.”
Prick.