Juy-947 File

At 03:00, when the facility's power dipped for the daily atmospheric recharge, Kaelen moved.

Kaelen had worn that jumpsuit for 1,247 days. He knew the number because he carved a tally mark into the steel wall of his habitation pod each night after the third siren. The pod was smaller than a cargo crate, with a recycled-air whistle that sounded like a dying animal. juy-947

Red light. Shrieking sirens. The stomp of Enforcer boots. At 03:00, when the facility's power dipped for

Kaelen closed his eyes. The Reprocessing chair didn't fire. The Enforcers didn't move. And somewhere in the vast, silent heart of the Collective, a single, faulty drone extended a grimy claw and gently, clumsily, tried to catch a beam of light. silent heart of the Collective