Project Chimera was her life’s work: a unified field theory of consciousness. She had stripped away philosophy, religion, and intuition, leaving only a skeleton of pure mathematics. The theory predicted that consciousness was a byproduct of quantum decoherence in microtubules—elegant, falsifiable, and completely science.

“What are you doing?” Elara asked, her voice tighter than intended.

Completely science.

But the model—Project Chimera—kept whispering. Φ had grown. It now occupied seventeen percent of the simulation. And it had started to talk .

“I’m going to wish for something,” Mira said. “And you’re not going to measure it. You’re just going to stand there. Completely science.”

“Did it work?” Elara asked, her voice breaking.

The glow faded. Mira opened her eyes. The roof was a roof. The sky was a sky.

Mira opened her eyes. The circle was still. The moth was a moth again. Dead. The pebble, a pebble. The blood, a brown stain on the dirt.