Lyra woke before the room lights began their artificial sunrise cycle.
The dorm was still quiet. Sorrel mumbled something in her sleep and turned over, her paper-crane mobile rustling faintly above the bunk.
Lyra slipped out of bed, pulled on her uniform jacket, and padded toward the shared console. The workshop slot was still hours away, but she couldn't shake the image of the fractured lens from her mind — or Mira Lorre's voice echoing behind it.
"Sometimes, clarity's not the point."
She keyed in her project file and opened the tray of components on her desk. The prototype was nothing yet — a half-assembled monocular, wired into a salvaged drone bracket. But she was starting to see it. Not just the shape, but the intent.
She carefully adjusted the hinge assembly and re-threaded one of the tension wires. The whole piece shifted slightly — more stable. Still imperfect. But less fragile.
A notification hovered quietly into view:
[Project File: Incomplete Prototype – Status: Viable Form Detected]
Estimated Output: Environmental Visual Filter | Overlay Enhancement Mode
[Note: Uncalibrated. Visual distortion ≥ 12.4%]
Lyra blinked. Not quite function. Not quite failure either.
She closed the project tab and let the lens catch the dorm light one last time.
Perspective, not perfection.
By the time the first class chime sounded, she was already on her way to the Cognitive Support Wing.
[CORE MODULE: PSYCHOSTABILITY CONDITIONING I]
Location: Hall 3-E
Instructor: Dr. Caien Vex | Trauma Loop Specialist
Hall 3-E looked more like a meditation centre than a classroom — hex-tiled floors, bio-tone lighting, and a subtle low-frequency hum. The air smelled faintly of lavender, which probably meant the System was expecting someone to cry today.
Lyra slid into a seat near the back. Several other students trickled in, most quiet, some already pale with preemptive anxiety.
Just as the final seat was filled, the panel flickered — replaced by the smooth, clinical face of Dr. Caien Vex. Human-origin but clearly enhanced.
"You've all taken memory imprint scans. Emotional range tests. Reflex calibrations. But those only measure your surface functions."
He folded his hands behind his back, beginning to pace.
"What they don't measure is what happens underneath—when memory collides with stress. When emotion bypasses logic. When a past you've buried decides to bubble up."
He stopped in front of the curved wall. It pulsed once with pale blue neural mapping.
"Psychostability is not about feeling nothing. It's about surviving the feeling without fracturing."
The wall shifted again — flickering silhouettes of students in other cohorts, mid-breakdown. One screaming against nothing. Another curled in stasis mode, unable to re-integrate.
"In the field, you won't have time to process. If a buried memory resurfaces during a drone strike or an environmental collapse, the result could be fatal."
A beat.
"This class exists to test your ability to stay you — even when the version of 'you' under stress doesn't want to cooperate."
His gaze swept the room again.
"If that sounds harsh, consider this: the Earth you're being sent to doesn't care if you were traumatized. It will still try to kill you."
The room was silent.
Then, without warning, the visors dimmed.
Loop trace initiating…
Lyra inhaled sharply as her own interface synced.
[EMOTIONAL SIGNATURE: ACTIVE]
Monitoring: Cognitive Friction | Memory Trigger Response | Loop Deviation Risk
Dr. Vex's voice was calm. Neutral. Cold.
"Today, you will not be learning. You will be remembering."
The visor darkened completely.
[Initiating Loop Trace: Subject LYRA KADE]
Memory Stabilization Index: 72%
Anchor: Pre-Uplink | Tier 3 Simulation Bubble | Associated Emotion: Residual Shame
The world fell away.
No warning. No countdown.
Just—
FLASHBACK
A simulation cube. Narrow. Faintly flickering. The smell of scorched nutrient paste and ozone.
Lyra was younger. Maybe eight. Curled under a scratchy sheet in a bunk she barely fit in.
Outside the door, two voices argued in hushed tones — too quiet for words, too sharp for comfort. Her memory refused to name them, but she remembered the shape of the silence that followed.
Then a system message had chimed through the wall:
[Evaluation Notice: Subject Potential : D–]
[Simulation Bubble Upgrade: Denied]
[Merit Override Request: Rejected – Insufficient Justification]
She hadn't cried.
But she'd stared at that blinking notification for so long her vision went static.
Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.
The loop blinked. Reset. Played again.
PRESENT
"Emotion spike detected," Dr. Vex's voice echoed through the visor, toneless.
Lyra gasped, ripping herself out of the seat as the visor de-synced. Her hands trembled before she could will them still.
Other students glanced over. Some pretended not to.
Vex didn't look up from the console.
"72% stabilization. Acceptable."
Lyra sat back down slowly. Her pulse still thudded behind her eyes.
Acceptable.
She wasn't sure which part of that word felt worse — that her reaction had been measured, or that it had been deemed within range.
Soon, the system chimed with the notification that the next class was about to start.
Lyra was still shaken after her class ended, but she stamped it down. She was determined to prove that she wasn't weak. That she was enough.
Sorrel approached her and asked, "Hey. Are you okay?"
"Yes. I was just caught unprepared," Lyra said. "I'm okay now. Honestly, I'd rather that happened here — in a safe environment — than on Earth."
"If it isn't too intrusive… may I ask what happened?" Sorrel asked, voice tentative.
"I saw a pre-digitization memory of myself," Lyra said. "Or at least I think it was mine."
Sorrel didn't push further. Just nodded.
"We should head to the next class. Instructor Juno doesn't strike me as the 'wait for latecomers' type."