Rhea woke to the sound of her own voice. “Begin sequence.”Cold, clinical, distant, a voice she remembered using when she needed her conscience to shut up. She wasn’t in the Under-Archive anymore.She stood inside a white observation chamber overlooking a familiar underground lab. Glass walls. Steel floors. Light so bright it erased shadow.On the other side of the glass, a younger Eva sat strapped to a metal chair, wires branching from her temples, her wrists, the base of her spine. Younger. Softer. Still hopeful.“Welcome to Trial One,” a lab technician said, voice hollow as an announcement at a train station. “Subject is stable. Neural map is fully responsive.”Rhea’s hands trembled. Around her were other figures, scientists, analysts, Directive officers, but they didn’t see her now.They saw the old her. The version who’d walked into this room with a clearance badge and a signature ready to sign. “You don’t have to do this,” the younger Eva said through a small speaker. “Rhea… you