Raindrops traced thin lines down the window, blurring the city lights outside. Nathan took a slow sip of his coffee. It was cold — bitter — like everything else that night.
"Needs more sugar," he muttered, setting the mug down beside a stack of unread reports.
His gaze drifted to the photo on his desk. Two faces, smiling in brighter days.
Her voice echoed faintly in his mind — "You know I only want what's best for you."
He sighed. "If only I could turn back time… if only."
The soft ring of his phone snapped him back.
He checked the caller ID before answering. "Yes, this is Nathan."
A familiar voice responded — calm, precise.
"Good evening, Dr. Voss. Hope everything's alright."
He glanced at the clock. "It's eleven-thirty," he murmured under his breath.
"What was that, Nathan?"
"Oh— nothing," he said quickly. "Just checking the time. It's pretty late, you know."
There was a short pause — a silence that felt heavier than it should have.
"It's just— I've been thinking about the project," Sera said softly. "I'm amazed by how many people this could help — PTSD, depression — we could actually make the world better."
Nathan's gaze lingered on the photo frame beside him.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "So much better."
"Anyway," Sera continued, her tone shifting back to business. "The machine needs maintenance tomorrow. Can I count on you?"
"Of course," Nathan replied. "I'll handle it first thing in the morning."
---
The next day, Nathan arrived at work, grabbed his morning coffee, and headed to the lab.
Sera was conducting a test to demonstrate the progress of Project Eirene to Lucius Kane, the project's supervisor.
"As you can see, sir, the neurocrown is attached to the subject's head. It links with their neural waves to detect any emotional abnormality," Sera explained.
The machine whirred to life and glowed softly.
A beep echoed from the computer. "We got it. Let's have a look at what's troubling him."
With a tap of a button, the emotion was transferred into the mind capsule and displayed as a holographic form. It took the shape of the patient's son.
The patient stared at the projection, tears forming. "If only I had been there," he whispered.
Sera glanced at him, sympathy in her eyes.
"And now," she said, turning to Lucius, "we isolate and neutralize this feeling. That way, even if he recalls the memory, the pain will be suppressed."
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't that make them more robotic?"
"Not necessarily," Sera replied. "It doesn't erase the feeling — it just prevents them from being overwhelmed by it."
"Interesting," Lucius said, watching as the patient calmed.
"Good morning, Sera, Mr. Kane," Nathan greeted as he approached.
"I didn't want to interrupt," he added.
"How long have you been here?" Sera asked.
"Not long after the demonstration started," Nathan replied, glancing at the patient now being escorted out.
"What do you think of the machine, Nathan?" Lucius asked. "Now that you've seen it in action."
"Well, sir," Nathan began carefully, "it turned out better than I imagined… I guess."
"You guess?" Lucius mocked.
"Don't get me wrong," Nathan continued. "Today's experiment was a success — but are there any side effects?"
Lucius frowned. "Is that all? Sera?"
"No, sir," she said quickly. "So far, none of the patients treated have shown side effects. If anything arises, we'll handle it immediately."
"You see, Nathan," Lucius said with a thin smile, "nothing to worry about. Even if there were, we'd fix it. Just focus on your job and leave the rest to the professionals. Are we clear?"
Nathan's jaw tightened, but Sera gave him a subtle look — play it cool.
"Of course, sir. I understand," Nathan replied.
"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend." Lucius walked out.
Sera sighed and turned back to Nathan. "Look, I know you're worried about the patients — and the project — but you know how the boss is. You could've asked me after he left."
Nathan looked down. "I'm sorry. I just… need to clear my head."
"Tell you what," she said gently. "Go get some rest. I'll have Ethan handle the rest of the maintenance."
Nathan managed a faint smile. "Thanks."
"Anytime," Sera said as she left the room.
Nathan sat down, staring at the machine.
Her voice echoed in his mind again — "It's because of you she did this to herself. I'll never forgive you."
He flinched.
"Sigh… maybe…" he murmured, staring at the machine before walking out.
---
Later that evening, Nathan sat in his office, going through reports. Ethan knocked lightly before entering.
"Hey, Nathan. How're you holding up?"
"Don't people knock anymore?" Nathan muttered.
"Oh, come on," Ethan said with a grin. "I just finished maintenance on the mind capsule — the job you were supposed to handle."
Nathan smirked faintly. "Guess I owe you one."
"You sure do, buddy," Ethan laughed, then his tone softened. "You don't look too good. You've been running on fumes lately."
Nathan kept his eyes on the window. "I'm fine."
Ethan studied him. "You're not. Is it about your wife—"
"Don't," Nathan cut him off sharply.
Ethan hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. Just know we're here if you ever need to talk."
"Yeah… thanks," Nathan muttered, though his eyes were distant.
Ethan left quietly.
Nathan sat there, sweating. His gaze drifted to the photo on his desk.
In a flash of anger, he smacked it aside.
It shattered.
Realizing what he'd done, he rushed to pick it up. The broken glass cut his fingers, but he didn't care.
"Why… why did you do this?" he whispered, tears threatening to fall. "I couldn't have known… why did you—"
He stopped, lowering his head. Exhaustion pulled him under, and he fell asleep at his desk.
---
Hours later, Nathan stirred awake.
"I slept in the office… again," he muttered.
He stepped into the hallway, intending to leave, but paused near the lab door.
Sera's words replayed in his head — "Even if they remember, the pain will fade."
He looked at the lab door again.
"Well… only one way to find out," he whispered.
Inside, the lights flickered on automatically as the motion sensors detected him.
He walked to the control panel. "I may not be able to operate and conduct the procedure at once… unless—" He searched the drawers and found the same tablet Sera had used earlier.
"Perfect."
He stepped into the chamber, placing the neurocrown on his head. The machine hummed to life.
"Alright… let's see."
He scanned through the tablet, locating the emotion tied to his trauma.
"There you are…"
But his expression changed. "Wait… there's more than one?"
He tried to extract them both, but a warning flashed:
"Multiple extractions may be harmful."
He frowned. "Then we'll do this the hard way."
He stepped out of the chamber, ignoring the tablet's next warning:
"All operations must be conducted in the designated area."
"Yeah, yeah…" he muttered, moving to the main control panel.
The machine began scanning his mind. "Come on…" he whispered.
After a few tense moments, the neurocrown glowed brightly.
He exhaled in relief. "Finally."
He started the extraction. The mind capsule filled with light as projections began to form — four figures, all resembling him.
"What the… they look like me," he breathed.
Suddenly, two of them began to flicker.
He turned to the panel. "What's happening?"
Then — a voice. Familiar.
"Nathan? Is that you?"
He froze.
Slowly, he turned back. Two of the figures had changed — they looked exactly like her.
"It can't be," he whispered. He took a hesitant step forward. "It's you…"
For a moment, his face softened. Then reality hit.
"No… you're just a memory," he said bitterly. "You left me… without even thinking how I'd feel. How we'd feel."
He sighed. "I'm sorry… but why did you—wait."
His eyes darted between the two versions of her. "Why are there two?"
A sudden beep drew his attention back to the control panel.
"Unknown frequency detected. Commence extraction?"
"There's another one?" he murmured.
Curiosity took hold. He pressed Extract.
The neurocrown pulsed red. "System error. No emotional base detected."
"What the hell?" Nathan whispered.
The capsule overloaded — the extracted data split, fragments seeping into the existing projections.
The emotions began glitching violently.
"No! Stop!" he shouted, trying to shut it down — but the console sparked and electrocuted him.
Pain shot through him. He stumbled backward, collapsing as the neurocrown malfunctioned.
Through his fading vision, he saw the capsule project something new — something hollow, dark, empty.
Then everything went black.