SUBJECT 47: AWAKENING

The Price of Power

Maintenance corridors smell like bleach and copper pennies. During shift change, these passages empty—perfect for moving someone who makes electronics die by proximity.

"The containment protocols were designed for standard neural interface complications," Dr. Aveline says as we descend three levels. "Nothing prepared us for this level of integration."

Through reinforced observation windows, I glimpse medical pods filled with monitoring fluid. The third pod contains a figure suspended in red liquid that pulses with familiar light.

Devon floats unconscious, arms spread wide, head tilted back like he's drowning in reverse. Tubes snake from his spine into monitoring systems displaying fractal neural patterns that shift when observed.

"How long has he been like this?"

"Since the simulation ended," Kira admits, her voice tight. "His neural pathways didn't rebuild like yours. They... opened. Like doorways we can't close."

A shadow materializes from the corridor junction ahead—Garrett stepping from darkness like he's always been there, waiting.

"Your friend didn't come out right," he says without preamble. "His pathway is open-ended. Might go Phase 4."

"What's Phase 4?"

"Something we've never seen survive. Complete neural architecture replacement. The brain stops being human and becomes something else entirely."

Bio-metallic veins flare brighter along my arms, synchronizing with Devon's suspended form through glass and medical gel. Their pulsing creates visual harmonics—two heartbeats that shouldn't be able to communicate across concrete and steel.

"The neural spear didn't just wound you both," Garrett continues, his eyes fixed on the observation window. "It created a permanent bridge between human consciousness and Devourer network architecture. You adapted. Devon... didn't adapt so much as surrender."

Devon's body convulses once. Monitoring equipment shrieks warnings as neural patterns spike beyond measurement capabilities. Red light floods the chamber, washing everything in emergency illumination.

"He's fragmenting," Dr. Aveline whispers, staring at readouts that dance across her failing tablet. "Consciousness spreading across network pathways that extend beyond his skull. His mind is becoming distributed."

"Can you reverse it?"

"We don't know how," Kira says. "Every intervention we've tried accelerates the process."

The emotional surge hits like lightning striking water.

Power cascades outward from my position—electromagnetic pulse that overloads every system within fifty meters. The main security grid fails in sequential waves. Blast doors slam shut throughout the facility with sounds like thunder. Emergency protocols engage without authorization. Containment fields flicker between active and disabled states.

Below us, something heavy moves through corridors that should be empty. Footsteps that don't match human gait patterns echo up through ventilation shafts, accompanied by sounds like metal scraping against concrete walls.

"What was that?" Kira backs against the nearest wall, her voice climbing toward panic.

"Lower level containment breach," Garrett says grimly, checking a handheld device that sparks and dies. "Something got loose when the security grid failed. Multiple somethings."

Emergency lighting dies section by section, plunging us into darkness broken only by the green-silver luminescence flowing through my circulatory system. Alarms shriek through speakers until those fail too, leaving us in silence punctuated by distant impacts from whatever roams the facility's depths.

"Seventeen people are trapped in the sealed sections," Dr. Aveline reports, checking her dying tablet with frantic fingers. "Blast doors engaged without override codes. They'll suffocate within the hour unless life support holds."

"You have to choose," Garrett says quietly. "Save them now, or preserve what's left of your humanity for what's coming."

"You're not the person I trained with!" Kira's voice cracks as she stares at me with something approaching terror. "You're a weapon, and we don't know who's holding the trigger! Every time you use those abilities, you lose more of yourself!"

Bio-metallic infection spreads across my chest in circuit patterns that pulse with their own rhythm. The transformation accelerates with each electromagnetic pulse, alien architecture claiming more neural territory.

"The override codes," I say, though I'm not sure if I'm speaking to them or to the facility itself.

Information flows through consciousness that expands beyond skull confines. The facility's electronic nervous system maps itself across awareness that encompasses every circuit, every sensor, every locked door throughout the complex. Override protocols surface in my mind like memories I've never experienced.

"Ezren, don't," Kira pleads, her scientific training warring with personal concern. "Using those abilities accelerates the integration. Push too far and you won't come back as anything we recognize."

"Seventeen people will die."

"And humanity might die if you're not there to fight when the fleet arrives," Garrett counters.

"I won't let them suffocate because I'm afraid of what I'm becoming."

My will reaches through electromagnetic pathways that respond like phantom limbs I never knew I possessed. Blast doors throughout the facility unlock in coordinated sequence, their magnetic seals disengaging with sounds like mechanical sighs of relief. Emergency power restores to sealed sections. Life support resumes normal operations.

"Jesus Christ," Dr. Aveline whispers, watching her tablet display facility schematics that show every door opening simultaneously. "You overrode the entire security grid from here. The computational power required..."

Bio-metallic patterns now cover my chest completely—circuit-board veins that branch from shoulders to sternum in geometric patterns that shift with each heartbeat. My reflection in the observation window shows someone I barely recognize.

"The infection's accelerating exponentially," Kira observes, her voice mixing scientific fascination with horror. "At this rate, complete transformation within seventy-two hours."

"At this rate, I'll stop being human within three days."

Through concrete walls and medical gel, I hear Devon's heartbeat—not with my ears, but through electromagnetic connection that transcends physical barriers. His pulse synchronizes with mine across impossible distances, two consciousnesses linked by pathways the neural spear carved through our neural architecture.

"You can feel him," Garrett realizes, watching my expression.

"I can feel everything he experiences. His consciousness is spreading through network pathways that lead directly back to me. We're connected now, whether we want to be or not."

"The Phase 4 transformation," Dr. Aveline breathes, her fingers flying across her dying tablet. "You're both undergoing it. Different expressions of the same fundamental change. He's becoming distributed. You're becoming concentrated."

Devon's suspended form convulses again, and I feel echo of his experience—consciousness fragmenting across data streams that flow between dimensions I lack words to describe. Through our involuntary connection, his terror becomes mine, his confusion bleeding through electromagnetic channels that bind us.

"What happens when the transformation completes?" I ask.

"We don't know," Garrett admits with unusual honesty. "No test subject has survived long enough to find out. But the theoretical models suggest..."

"Suggest what?"

"Complete integration with Devourer network architecture. You'd become part of their collective consciousness while retaining individual identity. A bridge between species."

"Or a traitor to both," Kira adds darkly.

Heavy footsteps grow closer, accompanied by sounds that suggest something large navigating corridors designed for human proportions. Emergency protocols engage throughout the facility as personnel evacuate non-essential areas.

"What's down there?" I ask.

"Things we thought were contained," Garrett replies, his voice carrying weight of classified knowledge. "Your power surge disabled more than just blast doors. Some of our older experiments weren't as dead as we assumed."

Through Devon's suspended consciousness, I feel something else stirring in the facility's depths—another presence that shares our electromagnetic signature. Whatever the neural spear awakened in us, we're not the only ones experiencing the transformation.

"There's someone else," I realize, the certainty hitting like physical impact. "Another test subject. Someone who didn't die."

"That's impossible," Dr. Aveline protests, checking records on her failing tablet. "We monitored every subject. Complete neural collapse in all cases except—"

"Subject Eighteen," Garrett interrupts quietly, his expression growing grim. "Presumed dead after complete neural collapse three weeks ago. But the body disappeared from the morgue before autopsy."

"But alive now. And changing just like us."

Bio-metallic veins pulse brighter as I sense the third presence approaching through maintenance shafts that honeycomb the facility's infrastructure. Whatever Subject Eighteen has become, their electromagnetic signature carries harmonics that resonate with frequencies only Devon and I can perceive.

"They're coming up through the ventilation system," I say, tracking movement through electromagnetic disruptions. "Moving fast. And they're not alone."

"Not alone?" Kira asks.

"They're bringing friends. Things that shouldn't exist."

The facility shudders as something massive impacts the lower levels. Emergency lighting flickers, and through the walls, I hear sounds that don't belong in any human structure—chittering, scraping, and voices that speak in frequencies that bypass the ears and resonate directly in the bones.

"They're almost here," I warn.