"Wait! It’s too much! Stop the link!" Aris shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of the station's cooling systems struggling to handle the surge.

Elias didn't answer. He walked toward the Observation Deck, his boots clicking in a rhythmic, military cadence he didn't remember learning. As he moved, the band on his wrist began to hum. Images flashed behind his eyes: a burning library in a city made of glass, a woman’s face blurred by static, and a sequence of coordinates buried in the deep desert. "The archives are heavy today," Elias whispered.

The steel door to Cell 402, Tier 9, slid open with a pneumatic hiss. Elias stepped out, his shadow long against the sterile white floor. On his wrist, a translucent band pulsed with a soft amber light—the E0030GA67W interface. It was his leash, his weapon, and his only memory.

Elias felt the pull—a vacuum in his mind trying to suck out the burning city and the woman’s face. He grabbed the railing, his knuckles white. If he let them take the memories, he would be a shell. If he kept them, he would burn out. He chose a third path.