POV: The Old Man
– where are those fucking things? I mean, the room data.
The technician complied. Two fingers slid across the console, then a series of curves filled the main screen. The Old Man remained bent over his cane, his eyes fixed on the lines that intersected in the middle of the painting.
– No. Not that one. What am I supposed to understand from that?
The young man immediately corrected his display.
From curve to be calculated, all these drawings simplify into a single one.
This is a representation of the energy fluctuations recorded in the lower passages of the Dome.
The young man continued, very focused.
Next to it, a second window displayed the room records for Alpha's team. The data was still incomplete, but the first matches had already been made.
The Old Man raised his index finger.
– Stop.
The technician paused the scrolling.
The old man will be the nose again
– I want the videos.
– but…The camera
The old man, the fuchsia, with his gaze.
– Add the other rooms too.
The technician grimaced.
– All of them?
–Yes, sir. The Seven Chambers.
– seven transformations, and you waited until I came to ask you first.
The young man lowered his eyes.
– We had not yet established that the events were linked.
– You don't need to link them to show them to me.
He struck the floor with his cane. The sharp sound echoed through the empty corridor.
– Scroll through the recordings. I want to see what happened, not your conclusions.
Images of terrible quality for their time.
They parade by, one after the other.
Chetan's companion stood near the wall. Its white form had slumped, then begun to rise again. The limbs had lengthened, the surface of the mask had cracked, and the features of a human face had emerged.
Fshhhhhh
Incomplete images.
The recording showed Chetan on the ground, unconscious, in fragments, while Eugène completed his transformation.
The old man watched without moving.
- Following.
The second image showed a figure lying on the edge of a bed. Then a third, standing in front of a door. Each time, the same change occurred: the white shapes disappeared, giving way to a human appearance.
The Old Man watched the images without seeking to comment.
– stop.
The technician freezes mid-movement
– Turn around for three seconds.
The old man scratches his beard.
- Again.
The old man leaned forward and then clicked his tongue.
– why doesn't she have a face
- Who ?
Silence
– That of subject 01, Romanian.
The stature, the shoulders, the length of the limbs, the overall shape of the body: everything was reminiscent of Alpha-1. Even the way of holding the back straight seemed to replicate its presence.
But something was missing.
His face.
The head was perfectly smooth. No eyes, no nostrils, no mouth. Not even a cavity that might have hinted at the erased features of a face. The skin stretched uninterrupted, as if someone had forgotten to finish this part of the body.
The Old Man slowly placed both hands on the handle of his cane.
– poor child…
The figure didn't react. It faced Roum, w
ho was motionless, without the slightest movement of his head. Roum, meanwhile, slept peacefully.