Chapter 2
The CollarThe routine Alexander had been forced into over the past several days was nothing short of torture. He couldn’t say how many days had passed. The only clues came from the cell itself: the pipe embedded in the rear wall, and the toilet tucked into its shallow cubicle. Both activated on what he estimated to be an hourly schedule.
He’d started counting the subtle vibrations that preceded each cycle. A few seconds later, a thin stream of watery slop would spit from the pipe. The toilet flushed at the same moment. He’d managed to count past a hundred of those intervals before losing track somewhere along the way.
The constant pressure to be ready, awake or not, was grinding him down. Sleep came in snatches. Never deep enough, never long enough. He’d started dreaming strange things: fractured images of streets he didn’t recognize, faces that spoke in static, machines that bled. Each time he surfaced from sleep, his heart was already pounding, unsure if he’d missed the slop.
That had to be intentional. Not just to keep him fed, but to drain him. Break his spirit. Disrupt any sense of control or reason. Strip away his sanity until all that remained was a starving, desperate animal.
Maybe I’m already crazy.
The thought came uninvited, but it wasn’t unfamiliar. Easier, in some ways, than believing he’d died and awakened in some alternate timeline. Same body, just younger. And in a world where aliens and superhumans existed.
Alexander laughed under his breath. The sound echoed off the cell walls, sharp and lonely.
But the memories feel real.
Too real. The events were too detailed, too nuanced, almost like warped reflections of the ones he thought were his.
Assuming they’re even mine.
“Enough,” he snapped, driving a fist into the wall. Pain jolted up his arm. “I’m not losing my mind. It’s the isolation. That’s all this is. I’ll figure it out.”
A soft buzz scratched at the base of his skull, almost tickling his ears. It had started a few days earlier. At first, he’d blamed the flickering light above, but he soon realized it wasn’t an electrical malfunction. It was in his head.
The buzzing faded slowly, replaced by a pressure that pulsed through his skull. He clutched his ears on instinct, even though it made no difference.
Maybe he’d suffered a traumatic brain injury. That would explain the buzzing. The confusion. The feeling that reality was stretched thin at the edges.
He reached for the collar again. Fingers slid under the smooth, metallic band around his neck. He tugged and twisted. Nothing. Frustrated, he used both hands, pulling until the muscles in his arms shook and his neck screamed in protest.
The buzzing surged in response. Sharper and more aggressive. Pain spiked behind his eyes and coiled into the base of his skull. He let go with a gasp, vision swimming.
Alexander’s eyes snapped open upon hearing vibrations. He stepped toward the pipe out of reflex, then stopped.
No, I am in control. It is my choice.
He stepped away and lay down on the slab instead, curling his legs to fit the space designed to be just a little too short. The slop spilled and drained away without him.
It was a pointless act of rebellion. But it was his, and that mattered.
He startled awake to the next vibration. His body moved before his mind caught up. Another hour gone. The constant disruptions kept him from proper rest, but missing the regular slop delivery would slowly lead to worse malnutrition and dehydration.
There was no good choice.
He stood with a groan and shuffled over to the pipe, just in time to cup his hands and catch the thin stream of chalky liquid. He drank it without thinking.
Still a choice. Still mine to make.
Sitting back on the slab, he rubbed sleep from his eyes and forced himself to breathe. A slow, intentional inhale through the nose. A measured exhale through the mouth.
He tried to thread the two lives together. The one he remembered, and the one this body had supposedly lived. They didn’t match, but the dissonance no longer surprised him.
This is real. Whether I understand it or not.
He looked down at his hands. Wrong. Younger, and with fewer scars and calluses than he remembered. They’d been proof of the years he’d spent working with machines.
It couldn’t be madness. It had to be something else. But if it wasn’t madness, then what was left?
Something impossible.
He maintained his controlled breathing. Gradually, and for the first time since he’d awoken on the tray heading for cremation, he felt clarity return.
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Santiago Systems A-1 Brain-Computer Interface
Status: Sleep Mode
The words weren’t spoken, but he heard them. They formed within his thoughts like a notification appearing on a mental screen.
ALERT: Host Cognitive Stability Detected
Reinitializing Core Functions…
Alexander swallowed, throat dry.
I didn’t imagine it. It’s some sort of brain implant.
He felt pressure bloom at the base of his skull. Reaching back, he found a soft bit of fake flesh that gave way, revealing something hard and artificial beneath.
Memories surfaced. The waiver. Anaesthesia. An implant. They’d said it would help him master his powers, that they were standard for everyone receiving the serum.
They lied.
It was to control me if I got powers they didn’t like.
Scratching gently, the skin gave way to reveal a metallic port, some kind of physical interface for the implant to be seated in. The skin closed back around it easily as a wave of discomfort washed over him.
External Device Detected
Designation: Santiago Systems X-3 CTE Collar
Status: Active
ERROR 0525: Connection Request Denied.
BCI Operating in Isolated Mode.