The hiss of chilled vapor coiled around Fenrir's containment pod, a translucent lid separating his still form from the world outside. Sensors crawled across his arms, neck, and temples—gathering every pulse, every flicker in the web of synthetic nerves that comprised his rapidly evolving pattern network.
The pod emitted soft chimes at regular intervals, and with each one, the waveform displayed above it shifted—more erratic, more saturated. Dangerous.
The Scientist stood still in front of the pod, his clawed fingers tapping once against the floor. His eyes, those crystalline discs of data and disdain, slid slowly toward Elira, who stood a few meters away from the Purpose Core cradle. Her breath was steady, hands resting at her sides. Eyes closed.
She was meditating.
"Pathetic," the Scientist muttered, voice dripping venom. "Still no measurable output. No advancement. No resonance. Just an ornamental piece of skin and stubbornness."
Elira opened one eye and exhaled sharply. "I'm doing what you told me."
"No. You're trying what I told you. There is a difference." His tail flicked with irritation. "You do not need time. You need clarity. And your refusal to claim it is precisely why we are—" his claw pointed toward her vitals display "—flatlining."
"Then help me," she snapped. "Tell me what to think, what to want, what the purpose should be—"
"If I tell you that, then it isn't yours. That's the very point you keep refusing to learn." He turned, pacing in front of Fenrir's pod. "Meanwhile, he—he who was least prepared, least stable—is blooming."
"You said it was dangerous for him to outpace me."
"Yes. And yet you are content to idle while he approaches full awakening." The Scientist's voice now crackled with something deeper than frustration—threat. "I have invested years and cores and worlds into this experiment. I will not let it fail because one unit cannot stop romanticizing her own ignorance."
She stiffened, hands curling into fists. "So what, you'll erase me?"
The Scientist didn't answer right away. He turned to look at her again—long, measured. "I am close. Very close to a full system reset. Both of you. Wipe memory, wipe progress. Start again."
Her heart pounded.
"There is one final protocol left if progress flatlines much longer," he added. "But its cost would be…disastrous. For both of you. And for everything that followed."
"What protocol?" she asked, voice low.
"I said final. Not yours to trigger."
She turned back to the Purpose Core, trying to ignore the spike of fear in her chest. She focused her breathing, her mind. Tried again to imagine herself as real. As whole. As something that deserved a purpose, not just had it assigned.
And then—
BZZT.
The sharp tone of the intercom sliced the silence. A voice crackled through:
"Unit Elira. Scientist.""Report to my office. Immediately."—Dray.
Elira opened her eyes. The Scientist said nothing for a long moment. Then his eyes narrowed.
"Let's hope he has better ideas than you do."
Fenrir stirred faintly in the pod, a flicker of red passing behind his closed eyes.