Noah Langford - October 2120
"Let's proceed."
I make my voice sound more certain than I feel. It needs to be. There's no room for hesitation now.
Between me, Thomas, and Edmund, we managed to put together a cure quickly. Too quickly. On paper, it works. Structurally, it makes sense. But none of it has been tested, not properly.
If I had access to my lab, I would have run every test twice over. I would have known exactly how Kai's body would respond. I wouldn't be standing here about to inject something that could just as easily kill him.
But we've ran out of time.
He's already burning out. If I do nothing, he dies. If I act… there's at least a chance and that's enough.
When Edmund adjusts Kai's neck to give me access, I don't hesitate. Thinking any longer would only make this worse.
I inject the serum steadily until the vial is empty.
For a moment, nothing happens.
Then Kai stops coughing. The blood, the strain, all of it just stops. He goes completely still, and for a split second it's wrong, too still, but the heart monitor continues its steady rhythm, telling me he is still alive.
"Did it work?" Finn asks, leaning slightly closer.
"Unsure," I reply. "We need to wait."
But waiting feels unbearable. Every second stretches longer than it should.
I'm aware of Ethan beside me, shifting, restless. I don't look at him, but I understand it. I feel it too.
Kai's breathing begins to even out, his heart rate holds, and despite myself, I feel a small, cautious sense of relief begin to surface.
But then, the monitor spikes. The steady rhythm breaks as the beeping starts to climb, faster and faster.
"What's happening?" Ethan drops beside Kai immediately.
"The serum is being rejected," I say, the realisation forming as I speak. I can hear the tension creeping into my own voice. "Neural activity is increasing too quickly. It's amplifying the response."
This is going wrong.
"Katie," I say quickly, "I need you to suppress the neural overactivity, just temporarily. It should slow the rejection."
She moves into position, placing her hands near Kai's head, but before she can do anything-
Kai suddenly jolts upright with a sharp gasp, dragging in air like he's been drowning.
His hand clamps tightly over his chest, his whole body tensing as if he can somehow force his heart to slow down.
Kai's breathing turns ragged almost immediately, each inhale sharp and uneven, like his body can't decide whether it's fighting to live or giving up.
His pulse on the monitor is climbing too fast now. Dangerously.
"His heart rate's spiking" Thomas says, already moving.
"I can see that," I reply, stepping closer, my focus locking entirely onto Kai. "The serum is overstimulating everything."
Kai's grip tightens against his chest, but then something shifts. His expression twists, sharper, more strained than before.
Pain.
His head jerks slightly, like he's trying to escape it, and a strained sound forces its way out of him as his breathing breaks into uneven gasps. It's not just discomfort. It's violent. Like something inside his skull is forcing its way outward.
"ughhhhh!"
"Kai!" Ethan's voice falters as he steadies him, but Kai barely registers it.
"Neurological overload," I say, more to myself than anyone else. "It's hitting his brain harder than anticipated."
Kai gasps again, harsher this time, and his entire body tenses. His hand shifts from his chest to his head, fingers digging in as if he could hold himself together.
Like his skull is splitting open from the inside.
"Katie, now," I say sharply.
She moves immediately, pressing her hands against his head, trying to suppress the surge, but the moment she does, the air in the room shifts.
The shadows react first.
They twist unnaturally along the floor, stretching, warping, as if pulled by something unstable. Then they snap outward.
"Move!" Finn barely gets the word out covering me before the shadows lash, forcing everyone back.
Kai gasps again, more broken this time, his body caught between tension and collapse as the shadows continue to shift around him, restless, volatile.
Ethan tries to stay close, pushing against the force of it. "Kai, listen to me-"
"He can't hear you," I cut in, my voice tighter now. "Not like this."
The monitor spikes again.
"Katie, maintain suppression if you can," I say, already adjusting my approach.
Because if his mind is fracturing under the strain, then everything tied to it is going with it.
His pain starts to get through to me in a way I can't ignore.
I feel my own heartbeat picking up, uneven and intrusive, mirroring the chaos in front of me. This was my solution... my design and now I'm standing here, watching it fail… watching it turn into the very thing that might kill my brother.
I force myself to stay still, to keep observing, to think instead of react, even as something tightens in my chest.
Katie moves in again, closer this time despite the risk. There's hesitation in her, I can see it, but she pushes past it and places her hands carefully against Kai's head.
The change is immediate and the shadows vanish.
Not slowly, not fading, but gone in an instant, like someone cut the connection entirely. At the same time, Kai's hands drop from his head, all the tension draining out of him at once.
His body goes slack.
He starts to fall, but Ethan catches him before he can, pulling him in tightly and holding him like he's not willing to risk even a second without contact.
"Hey," he says quietly, his voice softer now, steadier. His hand moves through Kai's hair in slow, careful motions. "You're going to be okay. You have to be."
He buries his face into Kai's neck, holding him there, but Kai doesn't respond.
His head hangs unconscious, his skin damp with sweat, but his heartbeat slowing now. Not normal, but it's no longer spiralling out of control.
"Good job" Edmund says.
Katie doesn't react. She doesn't look away, doesn't speak. Her focus stays entirely on Kai, her hands still in place as she maintains control, careful and deliberate, still learning but holding steady.
I let out a slow breath, only just realising I'd been holding it.
For a few seconds, everything feels like it's settling.
Ethan lets out a shaky breath, his grip tightening slightly around Kai. "He's okay… right?" he asks, though it sounds like he already knows he shouldn't trust that.
Noone answer straight away. Thomas eyes flick between Kai and the monitor, reading it carefully. "He's… stabilising" he says, but there's hesitation in it.
"However, stabilising isn't the same as safe" Edmund adds quietly.
"His neural activity is lower," I say, concentrating. "It's not spiking like before."
Ethan nods quickly, clinging to that. "That's good, right? That means it's working?"
I don't answer immediately. I'm watching the data, every number, every shift, fitting it together, trying to confirm what I expect to see.
"It means the overload has reduced," I say finally. "If the serum is regulating properly, his body should begin to-"
A sound cuts through the room. A long, continuous tone.
Ethan freezes. "What… what is that?"
Finn's head snaps toward the monitor.
I don't need to look, but I do anyway. The line is flat.
For a second, no one moves.
"No" Ethan breathes, the word barely forming before panic takes over. "No, no- Kai!"
Ethan leans back to hold Kai face but there is no response, no breathing. There is nothing.
"Ethan, move" Finn says quickly, already stepping forward.
Ethan hesitates, gripping Kai tighter for a split second before carefully lowering him down with Finn's help. "Do something," he says, his voice breaking. "You have to do something."
"I am" Finn replies, steady but urgent as he positions Kai flat on the ground.
He starts compressions immediately, his movements firm and controlled, counting under his breath as he works.
"Come on, Kai," he mutters. "Don't do this now."
Ethan hovers close, his hands shaking, not knowing where to help, where to look. "He was fine... he was just... Noah, what's happening?!"
I keep my eyes on the monitor. At the Flatline.
It doesn't align with the progression I calculated. The neural activity dropped, the physical stress reduced… this shouldn't be the outcome.
Unless-
"It's a delayed response," I say, more focused now, the pieces starting to shift into place. "A systemic crash before stabilisation. His body is resetting."
Ethan looks at me like I've said something insane. "His heart stopped."
"Yes," I reply, my voice steady despite everything. "Temporarily."
"Temporarily?!" he repeats, panic sharpening the word.
Finn doesn't stop compressions. "If you've got a better explanation, now would be a great time," he says, breath controlled but strained.
"I do," I answer, stepping slightly closer, watching for any change. "The serum is forcing equilibrium. This is part of the process."
"You don't know that," Ethan snaps.
I don't look at him.
"I do."
Because I have to.
Because the alternative is that I just killed him.
"Keep going," I say to Finn, my tone leaving no room for argument. "His heart needs mechanical support until the system restarts."
Finn gives a short nod, not slowing, not hesitating. "Then it better restart soon."
Ethan grips Kai's hand tightly, his voice dropping, desperate now. "Kai… come on. You don't get to leave like this. Not now."
The flatline continues, unchanging. But I keep watching, waiting for the break in the pattern, for the moment the line shifts again.
It will.
It has to.