“None human. But there’s something… reading at 144 terahertz. That’s not standard computation. That’s consciousness.”

The airlock hissed open, and the smell hit him first: dried blood, mildew, and the sweet-rotten stench of cloned flesh that had been left to decay. He drew his sidearm—a modified Gauss pistol with a neural dampener—and stepped inside.

“I chose truth.”

“It’s a miracle you’re still coherent. The FLT fragment we pulled from the last victim was… aggressive. It tried to overwrite your memory of rescuing Ian from the Morphs.”

She raised a hand, and the cables on the floor came alive, writhing like serpents. Conrad fired—three shots, center mass. The Gauss rounds passed through her like smoke. She laughed, and the sound fractured into a thousand overlapping frequencies.

“This isn’t home. It’s a trap.”

“What’s on Earth?”

Conrad froze, his hand on the door. “Ian?”

Prologue: The Echo Chamber

“Did you?” The younger man turned. His eyes were calm, almost kind. “Truth is just consensus memory. The FLT offers something better: a personalized reality. No more nightmares. No more Morphs. No more dead friends. Just you, living the life you always wanted.”

“And if I don’t destroy it?”

“A.I.S.H.A., any life signs?”

A.I.S.H.A.’s voice was barely a whisper. “The signal is collapsing. We need to evacuate. The station’s core is going critical.”

“Conrad, please.”

“You’re the original,” the younger Conrad said without turning around. “The one who refused the FLT back in ’95. The one who chose pain over peace.”