For a few seconds, I stood still in front of the black hole, staring at that dark sphere slowly spinning in the void. Every second my eyes stayed fixed on it, I felt a strange sensation growing inside me—as if, at any moment, something was about to awaken in my memory. It was like that silent abyss had the power to pull forgotten memories up from the depths of my mind... or at least, that’s how I felt at that moment.
Even though I was distracted, mesmerized by the hypnotic presence of the black hole, I still had some awareness of what was happening around me—call it a sixth sense if you want. That’s how I noticed Arthur acting strangely.
He seemed restless, casting watchful glances around while pacing cautiously around the black hole. His expression carried a tension hard to ignore. Of course, I had no idea what he was looking for or why he was acting like that, but something about his posture told me there was more going on than I could understand at that time.
For a moment, I looked away from the black hole and focused on Arthur. I watched him silently as he walked around the edge, his steps slow and deliberate, reflecting the tension in the air. My eyes followed him closely until suddenly he seemed to notice my steady gaze. Arthur paused for a moment and stared back at me.
We exchanged a brief, silent look, loaded with something I couldn’t quite place—worry, maybe. Then he came closer. Without saying a word, he crouched down in front of me and, with the back of his hand, tapped twice lightly on the camera mounted on my chest, as if trying to confirm something.
“Still not working...” Arthur muttered, frowning as he examined the camera: “Probably because of that” he added, nodding toward the black hole hanging in the sky like a wound in space: “It’s likely interfering with the signal... Not that I know exactly how this is supposed to work, anyway”
Arthur’s theory made sense—or rather, it probably made way more sense than just assuming Victor and Rupert, still inside the room watching the camera, simply didn’t want to say anything. Still, it wasn’t like I could do much about it. I let out a quiet sigh and shrugged, to which Arthur responded with a short, almost mocking laugh, as if he’d been expecting exactly that reaction.
After that, Arthur and I both kept our eyes locked on the black hole. The darkness pulsed silently, motionless, as if it was watching us back. Yet, nothing happened. As much as staring into that abyss stirred certain feelings inside me—vague memories, a familiar chill—it didn’t miraculously mean I knew what to do.
In the end, I found myself out of ideas. An uncomfortable emptiness took over my mind, as if even thoughts were afraid to come too close. I took a deep breath and, after hesitating for a moment, made a simple decision: I was going to touch the black hole.
It was an impulsive gesture, maybe even foolish, but I had to try something. Either way, even if some reaction happened, I didn’t believe I’d feel pain. And if there was no pain, then there was no reason to be afraid.
With that thought in mind, I started walking toward the black hole. With each step, gravity seemed to distort around me, and an unsettling feeling took hold. The closer I got, the more my mind seemed to churn—as if invisible hands were rummaging through my brain, digging up buried memories, trying to uncover something I barely knew existed.
Soon, I found myself completely in front of that vast, dark, pulsating mass. Just a few more steps and I’d be swallowed by it. The air around me trembled, as if space itself resisted my presence there. It was at that exact moment a voice appeared in my mind—clear, deep, and with a strange echo, as if the person was standing right beside me, whispering directly into my ear.
I blinked, surprised to hear that name—my name. I knew it was mine, of course, but it still sounded weird hearing it from someone else. There was something off about it. I instinctively looked around, but saw no one but Arthur and me. The place was completely deserted, silent, with no sign of any other living being.
The most unsettling thing was the voice. I couldn’t say for sure whether it was a man or a woman. The tone was soft, slightly high-pitched, which led me to assume it was a woman. Yeah, it definitely sounded like a woman.
But there was something about it—something that didn’t quite fit. It was like the voice had a strange texture, almost artificial, or like there was another voice hidden behind it, trying to imitate that one. I just couldn’t put into words exactly what bothered me.
Even when I looked at Arthur, he seemed perfectly normal—calm, almost too calm. In other words, I was the only one who’d heard that voice... although, to be honest, I wasn’t even sure anymore if I’d really heard anything or if it was all just a creation of my mind.
Had it just been an echo of poorly processed thoughts? An illusion caused by stress? But then an unsettling question came up: can anomalies hallucinate? Maybe I should ask Nekra or Althea. They both have way more experience with this kind of stuff than I do. Maybe they could help me figure out if this was just paranoia.
Anyway, I didn’t dwell on that thought any longer. I simply reached out my hand toward the black hole. Arthur remained completely absorbed, his eyes fixed on the void, unaware of what I was doing. However, before my hand could actually touch the phenomenon, something strange happened.
A subtle distortion appeared before me—as if space itself was wavering, trembling silently. It was like looking through rippling glass, and for a moment, I felt like something was watching me from the other side.
Arthur, beside me, finally took a step back, as if he had only just noticed the distortion in the air. Before I could form any coherent thought, I felt my body being pulled by an invisible force.
It wasn’t as abrupt as I’d imagined being dragged by a black hole, but it wasn’t subtle either—the sensation was intense, like space around me suddenly bent.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Arthur was being pulled along with me. Curiously, he seemed more surprised than terrified, which unsettled me given how serious the situation was.
And then, it happened. One moment we were standing before the black hole; the next, I found myself in a dark, silent space with no points of reference — as if time itself had dissolved around us.
But the feeling was strange — like all the darkness around me had the thick, sticky consistency of mud. There was something viscous in the air, almost tangible, like the night itself was breathing slowly. Oddly, it gave me a nostalgic feeling, though I couldn’t explain why.
It was like reliving an old, forgotten dream. I looked around for something familiar, but there was nothing but complete darkness. Not even Arthur, who should have been sucked in with me, was nearby. It was as if I’d been left alone in an endless void.
It was at that exact moment that I noticed something — or maybe “felt” would be a better word. It was like a beat, rhythmic and muffled, almost imperceptible, yet still there. Though faint, I could feel it subtly vibrating through my body, as if the space around me was pulsing. Instinctively, I turned my face in a specific direction.
Everything there was plunged into total darkness. There were no shapes, no shadows, nothing my eyes could make out. And yet, there was something. A silent call, an invisible presence that stirred my deepest instincts. A shiver ran through me, but curiosity won out. I started swimming, guided only by that strange sensation, following the direction where something — or someone — was waiting for me.
I swam without stopping. I don’t know how long I stayed like that, immersed in that liquid void, just following the call of that feeling that kept leading me forward. Even though I knew the destination was ahead, the distance seemed impossible to cross — like being trapped in a dream where running gets you nowhere.
Then, something changed. I heard a beat — but this time, it wasn’t coming from outside. It was coming from inside me. My heart. My face slowly changed, and I realized I was surprised. Truly surprised. For the first time in a long while, something had managed to awaken a genuine reaction in me.
Slowly, I moved my hand toward my chest. And then, a beat — soft, almost imperceptible. But I heard it. The sound was low, muffled, but unmistakable: the beating of a heart. Only it didn’t seem to come exactly from me... it was as if it was passing through me, traveling across my body like a distant echo.
I closed my eyes, driven by an instinctive impulse, as if something inside me was telling me that’s what I should do. A brief silence. Then, I opened them again. It was at that moment that I saw — right in front of me:
A heart. Before me floated a living, pulsating structure wrapped in dozens of translucent tubes. Each tube branched off in different directions, like artificial veins searching for something, connected to invisible systems hidden in the shadows.
As I watched the tubes, distracted by their complexity, the heart pulsed. A deep, strong beat. I clearly realized: the pulse was coming from there. But what was most unsettling was feeling the vibration hit my own body — something inside me also pulsed, as if echoing that beat.
That’s when I understood. There wasn’t a beating heart inside me. I wasn’t feeling my own pulse... I was resonating with that entity in front of me. Like an echo, a frequency finding shelter in my body. Why? I had no idea.
The next moment, I dove toward the heart and approached it cautiously. I floated in front of it, watching carefully, unsure of what to do. The heart pulsed slowly, radiating a strange, faint light that illuminated the surrounding waters. That’s when I noticed something curious: there was a shape inside the heart. Though undefined, its presence was undeniable.
I couldn’t make out what it was, but I was sure something was inside — something watching me back. I reached out hesitantly, intending to touch it. However, before my fingers could touch its translucent surface, the heart simply vanished before my eyes, as if it had never been there.
It wasn’t like it just disappeared — it was like it had never existed there to begin with. That left me genuinely confused. My heart raced for a moment, unable to understand what was happening. But the next instant, when I blinked briefly, everything changed.
Now, I was facing a vast blue sky, clear and serene, like it had been hand-painted. And there, right beside that sky, Arthur’s face appeared — calm, lit by soft light, silently watching me.
Noticing my fixed gaze on him, Arthur let out a deep sigh of relief: “Thank God you woke up” he said, his voice a mix of relief and concern: “I thought being sucked into that black hole did something to you since you weren’t showing any signs of life”
In the next moment, Arthur averted his eyes and began carefully surveying the surroundings. Meanwhile, I slowly got up. The first thing I did was follow his example and take in the environment around us. We seemed to be in some kind of forest — several trees stood around, but they all looked dead, with dry, leafless branches casting a shadowy silhouette against the gray sky.
A chilly sensation ran through my hand, and looking down, I noticed I was sitting on a thin layer of cold, white snow. The lightness of the flakes falling gently from the sky confirmed it really was snowing. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the soft whisper of the wind through the dry branches.
That thought made me reflect deeply. Somehow, I felt like I knew this place — sure, I could be completely wrong, but there was a strange sense of familiarity, like I had been here before. Also, a subtle and unsettling energy seemed to emanate from a specific point in the forest, drawing my attention.
For a moment, I stayed silent, trying to organize my thoughts. Not that I was much of a talker, but in that moment, the sound of my own ideas was what mattered. In the end, I came to a single conclusion.
(This forest... isn’t it near Base 17?)