Time in the white cell was not a linear stream but a stagnant pool, its surface broken only by the periodic, piercing light of Ereun’s interrogations. Roewi drifted in a state of sensory deprivation, his world reduced to the hum of the neural dampeners and the faint, staticky echo of his own thoughts. The initial sliver of hope, that Vextor was adapting, had become a thorn of anxiety lodged deep in his psyche. What was it adapting into?
The changes were insidious, a slow rewiring of their dynamic. During one session, Ereun was dissecting his emotional state during the initial synchronization failure.
"The rejection by the System Core," Ereun stated, his voice a clinical instrument. "Your biometrics showed not just despair, but a specific neuro-chemical signature associated with profound,
