The "jump" was not the smooth, dreamlike journey that science fiction often promised. It was sensory trauma.
When Ethan Thone shoved Dr. Dubois into the black circle—just as the portal's counter ticked down to 05 SECONDS—space ripped apart. First came absolute silence, a vacuum where they couldn't even hear their own breathing. Then, a pressure that crushed their organs, followed by a flurry of non-Euclidean colors: a fleeting spectrum of hot purples and radioactive yellows that their brains struggled to process. The sensation lasted less than a second, but it was so violent they felt their molecular structures stretch and re-knit.
They landed with a hard impact, not on concrete or dirt, but on something soft and synthetic that cushioned the fall. Ethan felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as he rolled, his body screaming at him that he had just traveled not only across space, but across reality itself.
He gasped, opening his eyes. The air here was cool, filtered, and smelled of vanilla and clean ozone, not mold and rust.
The purple light, which the flare had revealed, did not come from the sky, but from a crystal ceiling that curved twenty meters above them. They were in a room. No, a gigantic atrium, bathed in indirect lighting that made everything glow. The walls were made of dark, polished metal, and the floor was a high-tech, rubbery material.
The first sign that they weren't in their world was the silence of alarms. The second, the people.
Two figures, dressed in immaculate, austere white uniforms, approached Ethan. They were security guards or attendants, but they carried the professional calm of those who have never seen a problem that money couldn't solve.
"Vivian! Are you okay?" Ethan stood up with a grunt, ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder. He looked for his partner.
Vivian Dubois was standing, no longer shaking. She was meticulously checking her suit and glasses with astonishing concentration, as if she had just stepped out of a luxury taxi. But surprise was etched on her face: she was looking not at the atrium, but at the guards, with a mixture of recognition and utter confusion.
The lead guard, a tall man with fine eyebrows, ignored Ethan completely and bowed to Vivian with an almost religious deference.
"Doctor Dubois. Welcome. Your 'entertainment' arrived ten seconds ago. We tracked it as requested. You've had a... dramatic landing."
"Entertainment?" Ethan blinked, looking back at Vivian. His Vivian.
This world's Vivian was almost identical, but with one subtle and radical difference: her hair wasn't in a messy ponytail, but flawlessly slicked back. She wore an impeccably cut silk suit that was undoubtedly worth more than all of Ethan's expedition gear combined. And there was a coldness, an indolent confidence in her eyes that he had never seen in the woman who struggled to translate hieroglyphs by flashlight.
"What does 'entertainment' mean?" Ethan asked, taking a step toward her.
Vivian finally looked at him. Her gaze wasn't one of partnership, or even wonder. It was the look an owner directs at an expensive, newly unpacked toy. A faint trace of the original Vivian initially crept into her voice.
"Ethan. What a quaint name. Yes, I remember. My 'assets acquisition' assistant told me you found this... portal in some abandoned dive in the old service stations. A small feat, boy."
She stepped back, gesturing toward the guard. "The boy is bruised. Give him a sedative and a salt bath. And make sure he uses the appropriate attire. I don't want my toys roaming my atrium smelling of mold and cheap tactical gear."
Ethan froze. Poor. Toy. Asset.
"Vivian, no! This is serious. In our world, you and I... we were in mortal danger. You know me. I'm the security specialist, the one who got you out of Station 4. The one who lent you his jacket when it was cold."
Dr. Dubois turned on her heel, a slight grimace of impatience.
"Security. That's sweet. Here, I am the security," she said with a dangerous glint in her eyes. "I am the founder and CEO of Golden Limit Corp., the company that monopolizes dimensional energy research. And you, Ethan Thone, are just an asset I acquired on a collector's whim. A trinket from a parallel universe."
She paused, her gaze returning to that unsettling mix of the original and the new. "And, judging by your clothes and your insolence, you are quite... humble. I bought you because I read the synopsis of your life in that universe. It reminded me of when I was young and pathetic."
The guard in white approached Ethan, his hand moving toward a small injector on his belt.
"Come on, boy. Don't make this difficult. Dr. Dubois doesn't tolerate frustration, especially not from her... acquisitions."
Ethan felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold of Epsilon Station. This was not his Vivian. This was not his world. He had gone from being an essential partner in a vital mission to being the plaything of a cruel billionaire. He was trapped in her counterpart's Gilded Cage.
Ethan shrank back, retreating toward the center of the atrium, where the air still seemed to hold a faint echo of the fissure.
"The fissure," he hissed, teeth clenched, desperately searching for a way back to his reality, or at least a way to escape this one. "Where is the artifact? We have to close it before the space-time continuum destabilizes."
Vivian laughed again, loud and clear this time, echoing through the vast atrium.
"Close it? Why would I close it, Ethan? The 'artifact,' as you call it, is the Source. It's the one thing that allows me to acquire whatever I want from any reality. What you see here," she made a wide gesture with her hand, encompassing the atrium, the luxury, and the servitude, "is proof that the 'Transfer' is the best investment I've ever made. Enjoy your stay, boy from the other reality. There is no return."
As the guard approached, Ethan's pain and confusion transformed into cold anger. If this Vivian's "Golden Limit" was the portal, his only way to escape was to confront the woman who now saw him as a mere possession.
He prepared to fight, not for survival, but to return to his own, dangerous, reality.