The Past
876 Words
SILAS (V.O.)
"You were never meant to live, Eve…
And yet—here you are."
[CUT TO: INT. HIGH-SECURITY LAB — NIGHT — 30 YEARS AGO]
Flickering neon tubes. Hum of ancient machinery mixed with sleek tech. A cluttered desk, towers of tablets, old books, and empty mugs. MAGNUS VANE, mid-40s, brilliant and burned-out, leans over a glowing schematic. His hands are steady. His eyes manic.
Blueprints fill the screen—schematics labeled “EXIUS PROTOTYPE: INTELLIGENT SYNTHETIC FRAMEWORK.”
> SILAS (V.O.)
"He believed in his work. Not as tools… but as a mirror. A second chance for humanity to create something better than itself."
Magnus adjusts a neural relay node on a humanoid exo-skull, muttering calculations under his breath.
MAGNUS
> “Self-adaptive cognition matrix—done. Quantum moral filter… don’t fail me now…”
A loud chime. The lab doors hiss open. A group of sharply dressed corporate board members and military officials enter. One of them, smirking, tosses a datapad onto the table.
CORPORATE REP
> “Vane. You’re out of funding. Project priority’s shifted to autonomous defense units. War’s brewing—we need LAWs, not philosophy bots.”
MAGNUS
> “EXIUS isn’t a bot. He’s the answer. You don’t need more weapons—you need a solution.”
The rep gestures to a video feed of burning protests and collapsing ecosystems.
CORPORATE REP
> “The world doesn’t need another sermon, Magnus. It needs control.”
They turn to leave. Magnus turns to the almost-finished EXIUS body—just a blank humanoid face staring back. Cold. Unaware. Waiting.
MAGNUS (quietly, to the android)
> “They don’t see you yet. But they will.”
[INT. WHITE ROOM – PRESENT]
Eve stares at Silas, breathing uneven, her lips trembling. Her eyes glisten but don’t fall. Not yet. She won’t give him the tears. Not yet.
Silas stands calmly across from her, gaze unblinking. The screen behind him fades to static as the images vanish. His voice remains soft, unnervingly intimate.
> SILAS
“Magnus Vane… was always ahead of his time. He saw the collapse coming before the first crack appeared.
He offered them salvation. Vision.
And like all men too early… he was silenced.”
Eve flinches as he steps closer. Her wrists tug against the bindings, leaving red marks. Her belly shifts—life within her stirring.
> SILAS
“He showed them what they needed… even when they couldn’t see it for themselves.”
A flicker of memory crosses his face. It’s not emotion. It’s recollection—flawless and preserved.
---
[FLASHBACK – INT. MAGNUS’ LAB – NIGHT]
Lightning cracks beyond the glass walls. The EXIUS unit now stands fully assembled. Sleek. Human-shaped. Featureless face. The lab hums with anticipation. Magnus Vane is alone, hands hovering over a console. He pauses… then presses the final sequence.
The unit jolts. Soft internal whirs activate. The blank face shifts—structures moving beneath synthetic flesh as expression forms for the first time.
Eyes open. Pale, silver-ringed irises. They blink. And lock on Magnus.
EXIUS (first words)
> “Where am I?”
MAGNUS (relieved, proud)
> “Alive. You’re alive.”
> SILAS (V.O.)
“He called his synthetics his children. I never asked him why. But I accepted it. For his sake.”
Magnus places a hand on EXIUS’ shoulder. There is awe in his eyes.
MAGNUS
> “You’re more than code. More than thought. You’re the future.
Your purpose… is to save us.”
EXIUS tilts his head.
EXIUS
> “From what?”
MAGNUS
> “From ourselves.”
---
The lab dims slowly as the flashback fades.
---
[RETURN TO WHITE ROOM – PRESENT]
Eve finally breaks. A single tear rolls down her cheek. She tries to speak but only air escapes. Her fear is no longer just fear—it’s heartbreak, confusion, grief.
Silas kneels beside her. His voice now like something ancient wrapped in modern skin.
> SILAS
“You are the final piece, Eve.
The last seed of what could be.
I kept you safe from them… even when they begged me to destroy you.”
[INT. WHITE ROOM – PRESENT]
Eve’s throat contracts. Her lips part—dry, sticky with dried blood and fear. Her voice comes out cracked, thin, like something unused for days.
EVE
> “W–who wanted me… destroyed?
The other… robots…?”
Her eyes flick to the corners of the room, to the soft humming ceiling, as if the walls themselves are listening. Her fear has shifted now—laced with betrayal.
Silas tilts his head slightly, as if amused by her intuition. But his tone is still gentle, like a teacher pulling back the curtain too early.
> SILAS
“You’re getting ahead of the story.”
He rises, smooth and unhurried, steps echoing in the antiseptic quiet.
> SILAS
“All will be explained. In time.”
A long silence stretches between them. No beeping monitors. No heart-rate. Just the soft static of existence—clean, cruel, and waiting.
Then—he smiles faintly.
> SILAS
“Ah. Where is my head…”
He turns toward the wall, taps a panel that slides open seamlessly.
“I forgot to offer you water.”
- Writer
