ログインThe service door seals behind us with my face on the other side.For a few seconds, nobody speaks.We are packed in a maintenance throat built for pipes, not people. Sarah is bleeding from the corner of her mouth where one clone clipped her. Renn’s bad leg shakes. Mara has one arm under Caleb’s ribs, keeping him upright through sheer refusal.I have clear fluid under my nails.It dries sticky. Not like blood.I keep staring at it. Sarah notices first.“Elena.”“It would have carried better.”She does not ask what I mean.Sarah does not ask.Useful cruelty. She knows when naming a wound only makes it bleed louder.Renn says, “Are we doing self-loathing now? Because I would like a chair.”Mara snaps, “Stop.”“No. If she folds because one lab-grown mirror said she’s unstable, we all get packed into boxes.”I look
They drop like a bad memory learning gravity.Five bodies. My face on all of them. Same left eye, same mouth, same blunt shape of the chin my mother used to pinch when she wanted me to stop scowling.None of them scowl.They land around us in a clean ring.Sarah fires into the nearest throat.The clone takes the round, staggers one step, and keeps moving.“I hate that,” Sarah says.“Aim for joints.”“I did.”“Aim meaner.”Renn drags herself upright with one leg still half-dead. Mara pulls Caleb behind the service door, but he resists at the last second, staring at the ring of finished faces.“They look like her.”Renn snaps, “Thank you, nursery education.”The white restraint on my wrist tightens.Suppression crawls up my arm, cold and granular, like crushed glass under the skin. I cannot burn properly through it. G
The clone does not come through the corridor.It comes through the ceiling.One second the blue-painted morning above the promenade is smooth. The next, a white hand punches through it, fingers spread, nails clean and short and mine.Sarah fires before anyone screams.The bullet takes the hand through the palm.The clone does not pull back.It opens the wounded hand wider, hooks the ceiling panel, and peels the whole square down like wet paper.A face drops into view. My face.No smile this time. Worse.The body follows in one fluid fold, landing barefoot on the promenade floor between the fake trees. It wears a pale retrieval suit sealed at the throat and wrists. No weapon visible.It does not need one. Behind it, two more panels crack. Then three. Not one mirror.A formation. Renn whispers, “How many?”Mara answers, “Enough.” It looks at me.No. Not at me. At Sarah.
The glass takes him away one inch at a time.Not physically. He is still on the other side. I can see his hand against mine, the pale pressure of his palm, the cuff mark at his wrist, the blood at his mouth.But Trust has made distance official.The burn between our hands thins until it becomes only heat remembered by skin.Then the wall turns opaque.I am looking at myself in a white reflection.Renn says, “That was disgusting.” Sarah says, “Be specific.”“The whole thing.”“Useful feedback.”Mara is already moving.“We have the counseling key. We have one route before containment reroutes.”Caleb stands with his hand half-raised toward the glass.“They’ll hurt him.”Renn turns.“You say that like it’s a drawback.”Caleb looks at me.His face is pale, damp with sweat.&l
Sarah cuts the left strap before the right one releases.She does it with a ceramic utility blade from inside her boot, not the pistol, because the room has already learned the gun. The strap peels back from my wrist with a soft sound, like skin from tape.Blood returns to my fingers in needles.“Can you stand?”“Yes.”I can’t.She knows. She hauls me up anyway.The counseling room is screaming without volume now. Red light. Silent alert text. Doors sealing in sequence on the wall map.Mara is at the port again.“Ghost network breach burned the seed. We have one counseling key, maybe two uses.”Renn kicks the consent chair hard enough to dent the base.“Good. Let’s use it to leave.”Caleb has not moved since Leo’s classification appeared.LEONARDO VALE: NON-RETRIEVABLE.His eyes keep going back to it.Maybe he is s
The correct answer is yes.A trap does not need teeth if it can learn your hands.Say no, and I become the kind of mother Trust can override for fetal welfare. Say yes, and every future refusal can be framed as a failure to protect the child. The chair is warm under me. The straps hold my wrists with careful patience.Sarah stands three steps away, gun lowered because Leo is on the other end of her obedience.Renn has gone very still.Mara kneels at the open port under the mural, her stolen wire trembling between two fingers.The voice asks again.“Do you agree that your child’s safety is your highest priority?”I look at Caleb.He looks back like he wants to save me with the rules that ruined him.“Define safety,” I say.The room pauses. Only a fraction.Enough.Mara’s wire slips deeper into the port.The lamps flicker once. The voice stays pleasant.
I didn't wait for him to change his mind. My hand shot out, fingers locking around the hilt of the obsidian blade before the vibration of its impact had even died on the tiles.The stone was impossibly cold—a jagged void that sucked the heat right out of my palm.I stood up, t
The nursery ceiling didn't just break; it disintegrated. Ceramic shards and white dust rained down as two shadows dropped through the vent, magnetic tethers whirring like hornets.They didn't land like men. They hit the hardwood with a hydraulic hiss that made the joists groan.I di
The door handle clicked.I didn't think. I moved with the high-density reflex wired into my nerves since the Moore estate vents.My hand slammed onto the stainless steel tray, palm flattening over the glowing smudge of silver-violet blood just as the door swung wide."Doctor?
The nursery door had been sealed for less than ten minutes when I slid the vanity panel aside.The ventilation shaft smells of cool steel and old dust—a narrow coffin of corrugated metal that presses against my ribs with every inch I crawl. I work my way toward the primary server junction, the stole







