The world didn’t tilt; it dissolved. The "officer" from Aegis Dynamics stood with a terrifying stillness, his eyes not focused on us, but seemingly tracking data streams only he could see. Behind him, the black SUV began to shimmer, the matte finish rippling like water until it revealed a honeycomb lattice of holographic projectors. The mountain air, which had felt bitingly cold seconds ago, suddenly turned sterile and lukewarm.
"Phase Two," Dax rasped, his hand tightening around the silver ring until his knuckles turned white. "You're telling me the clubhouse, the fire, the lives we lost... that was a simulation?"
"Not a simulation in the way you understand it, Mr. Steele," the officer replied, his voice devoid of any human inflection. "Call it a 'Stress-Induced Neural Mapping.' We need
