Axel didn't move for hours. He sat in the dirt, back against the twisted bark of an unnameable tree, breathing shallowly. The air was thick, with the stench of decay. His chest rose and fell with effort. His hands trembled, but not from the cold he was feeling, but from the shock of existing.
The last time he felt something this real was…
No.
He hadn't ever felt something this real. Not even back there. Everything had been artificial, controlled stimuli, regulated sensation. Even pain had limits, they couldn't allow to lost efficiency. Here, there was no limit. No regulator. Just his body.
Or a body. Not his. His mind still hadn't accepted it.
The fingers were too thin, the skin too rough and his joints ached with every motion. When he pressed his palm against his chest, he felt ribs. Too many.
The cold he was feeling also reminded him the state of his clothes, if those rags could be called clothes. Why was he here, in the middle of nothing, and more important…
"Whose body is this?" he whispered.
> Insufficient data.
Of course. The voice in his head—NEX—spoke only when prompted, and only to state facts. No comfort. No answers. No curiosity. Just protocols and observations.
He leaned his head back and stared at the sky.
Gray. Dense. Like ash frozen in midair.
There was no source of light. Was it like that because it was night? Or was the world he arrived in like that? He didn't know, and NEX wasn't helpful either.
He closed his eyes.
The memory came back in fragments:
Standing before the geometric shape.
The judgment.
The white light.
The silence.
And then, this.
He thought it would feel like dying.
It didn't.
It felt like being rejected. Not even worthy of deletion. Not even important enough to erase properly. Axel gritted his teeth, glimpses of an emotion that were not there before.
The silence pressed into him, heavy and unyielding. Not even insects. Not even wind.
He looked down at his hands again. Flexed them. Watched the veins shift beneath the skin.
"Why this body?"
> Host integrity preserved.
> Neural imprint adapted to available form.
"That means nothing."
> Clarification denied.
"Am I even human anymore?"
Silence.
"NEX. Am I still me?"
> Identity tag: Axel.
> Neural patterns: consistent with pre-transfer state.
> DNA structure: altered.
He laughed dryly. There was no humor in it.
He hadn't chosen to feel.
Hadn't asked to break the rules.
He'd just looked at someone—someone he couldn't even touch, couldn't even speak to—and felt. Something. A flicker of humanity in a life, in a society designed to erase it.
That was enough to make him a failure. An anomaly.
Axel rested his head on his knees and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep. Sleep required trust and neither the place, nor the situation he was into offered it.
His muscles cramped. Hunger gnawed at him—true hunger. Not the synthetic twinge used to remind workers to recharge. It came with pain, not warnings. He tried to stand and failed. His legs gave out. Knees hit the dirt. His vision blurred.
He bit down on the inside of his cheek. The copper taste grounded him. He felt slower. Duller. No performance enhancers. No neural feedback. No optimization loops. His brain was… unfiltered.
> Physical exhaustion detected.
> Recommend rest.
He ignored NEX.
Memories came in waves.
Of the corridors back in the Central Zone.
The endless gray. The sound of footsteps timed to the system's pulse. The girls in white. The sterilized glances. The silence.
And then her. He never knew her name. He only saw her once a week, she was always carrying a datapad, always walking too fast.
She never looked at him. Never spoke. She wasn't supposed to. He wasn't supposed to want her to.
But he did.
And now… here he was.
> Neural activity elevated.
> Emotional fluctuations detected.
"Still observing?"
> Affirmative.
"What are you recording?"
> Biometric activity. Hormonal fluctuations. Cognitive patterns.
"And what's the verdict?"
> Data incomplete.
> Emotional instability persists.
> Subject's behavior diverges from projected models.
> Monitoring to continue.
Axel didn't answer. NEX didn't elaborate. That was their relationship now.
Some time later, he dragged himself to his feet. His legs protested, but he walked, he didn't want to be still long enough to rot.
> Vital signs degrading.
> Recommendation: hydration and caloric intake.
"I'll get right on that," Axel muttered.
He stumbled over a root and caught himself on a jagged rock. It tore open the skin on his palm. Blood beaded instantly.
No repair nanites. No painkillers. No automated clotting agents.
Just blood … and pain.
He stared at the wound. It was shallow. But it stung.
"So, this is what it meant… to be real."
He wiped the blood on his rags. The fabric absorbed it like old paper.
He looked at the horizon. Still no sun. Still no landmarks. Just endless gray.
---
> Integration status: unchanged.
> Fusion with local laws: 0.0001%`
> Progression: stagnant.
> Recommendation: survive.
---