Chapter 92: Chapter 90 Evidence without Origin

The movement of Helena and Selena within the facility did not stop upon crossing the threshold of the underground area, but continued with the same precise cadence that had marked their path from the surface, as if the change of environment did not imply adaptation, but rather a natural continuity within a system that already recognized them. The space was organized into wide corridors, without unnecessary columns interrupting the line of sight, where every metallic surface absorbed light instead of reflecting it, generating a controlled atmosphere, without distractions, in which what mattered was not what was seen, but what was done within that place.

The doors they passed through were not marked with names or visible warnings, but each responded to their proximity with clean and silent openings, recognizing their presence without demanding additional confirmation, and as they advanced, the human flow became more evident, not in the form of crowding, but of organized activity. Personnel in white coats moved between workstations with measured motions, while others, dressed in deeper blue coats, remained in front of interfaces integrated into the surfaces, their hands interacting with systems that did not project information openly, but in a contained manner, as if each piece of data were restricted to the exact point where it had to be interpreted.

The guards did not occupy the space in a dominant way, but their presence could not be ignored. They were positioned at specific points along the route, their bodies firm, their weapons held naturally, not as an active threat, but as part of the very structure of the place. The rifles they carried were not ostentatious nor strikingly modified, but their design made it clear that they were not meant to intimidate, but to be used without margin of error if the situation required it.

As Helena and Selena advanced, interactions did not interrupt the flow, but they existed. They were not effusive greetings nor exaggerated gestures, but slight nods of the head, brief acknowledgments that did not require words, but that made clear the place both occupied within that structure. None of those present attempted to stop them or start a conversation, because it was not necessary; their passage was not questioned, only acknowledged.

The environment began to transform more evidently as they moved deeper into the core of the facility. The walls separated slightly, giving way to a wider space where the function was no longer transit, but containment and development. It was there that the tubes began to become visible.

They rose several meters from the ground, distributed with a precision that left no dead spaces between them, each one constructed with reinforced transparent materials that did not distort what they contained, but neither did they expose it completely. Inside, suspended in fluids of controlled density, were fragments, structures and forms that could not be understood in a single glance.

Some of those forms resembled weapons, but not in the conventional sense of design, but rather as incomplete versions of something that had not yet been fully defined, with parts that seemed not to correspond with each other, but that maintained an internal coherence impossible to ignore. Other structures resembled suits, not in their entirety, but in segments that suggested specific functions, plates that did not fully close, connections that seemed to be waiting for a component that did not yet exist within that space.

Not everything was identifiable.

There were elements that could not be associated with any immediate function, forms that did not respond to known geometries, but that did not seem chaotic, but incomplete, as if they belonged to systems that had not yet been fully assembled. There were no visible labels nor descriptions that facilitated their understanding, because that was not the purpose of that place.

Helena did not slow down upon observing them. She did not turn her body nor stop in front of any of the tubes, but her attention did not ignore them, it registered them in their entirety, not as individual objects, but as evidence of a direction, of a process in motion that did not depend on immediate results, but on accumulation.

Selena maintained the same pace at her side, without diverting her gaze more than necessary, her focus was not on interpreting what the tubes contained, but on the destination they were heading toward, because what lay ahead had greater relevance than what was already in development.

The path continued without interruptions until the environment closed in again, the wide spaces giving way once more to a more contained corridor, where the lighting became slightly more focused, reducing the visual range to what was strictly necessary. There, at the end of that path, the door made itself present.

It did not stand out due to ornamentation nor disproportionate size, but due to its density. The metallic surface did not reflect light, it absorbed it completely, as if it were not designed to be seen, but to endure. There were no visible handles nor exposed mechanisms, but the security systems integrated into its structure could be distinguished: a hand scanner on the right, a discreet interface for code entry, and internal layers that were not revealed, but whose presence could be sensed in the way the door integrated with the wall.

Helena stopped at an exact distance, without approaching more than necessary, her posture stable, her cane aligned with her body, while Selena stepped forward without hesitation.

She placed her hand on the scanner without hesitation, the surface recognizing the contact immediately, and without removing it, she entered the security code with precise movements, without errors nor repetitions. There was no sound in doing so, only a silent confirmation that did not manifest in visible lights nor external signals.

For a brief instant, nothing happened.

Then, the structure responded.

Not with an abrupt metallic sound, but with an internal displacement that was not perceived as external movement, but as a release of contained tension. The door opened to the sides with a controlled slowness, enough to evidence its weight, but without generating resistance.

The space on the other side did not reveal itself immediately in its entirety. Only a portion was visible at the first moment, enough to confirm that what was behind did not belong to the same functional level as the rest of the facility.

Selena withdrew her hand without looking back. Helena said nothing. And both moved forward.

They crossed the threshold without stopping, without marking the moment as something different, but knowing that it was, because from that point on what was done within that place no longer responded to study, but to control.

The interior of the room did not present itself as an extension of the outer laboratory, but as a deliberate rupture with everything that preceded it, a space where even visual logic seemed reduced to its strictest form. There was no color in the conventional sense, nor shadows that allowed depth to be defined, nor contrasts that facilitated the immediate reading of the environment, because everything was covered by the same uniform surface that did not reflect light in a scattered way, but returned it in a controlled manner, enveloping each object and each figure in a constant clarity that left no room for hidden areas.

The floor, the walls and the ceiling responded to the same materiality, to the same intention: to eliminate any interference that was not strictly necessary. Even the air seemed different, not because of density, but because of the way the lighting passed through it, as if the atmosphere had been adjusted so as not to alter the perception of what was inside.

And in the middle of that space, where nothing seemed to stand out, the table did so, not because of size nor structure, but because of what it contained on its surface.

The stain was not uniform, it was not an abstract pattern nor an accidental mark that could be ignored, but a combination of residues that broke the continuity of the environment: dark traces of blood already partially dried, denser areas where oil had accumulated in irregular layers, and between both, tiny fragments, almost imperceptible, that did not correspond to either, but that were there adhered, like remains of something that had not been completely removed.

It was not disorder. It was evidence.

Helena and Selena did not stop upon entering, they did not mark the step as a change of rhythm, but their presence altered the balance of the space at a level that did not need to manifest itself in a visible way. The two figures that were already there did not move immediately, they did not turn abruptly nor react with surprise, because they knew exactly who would enter and at what moment they would do so.

The man was the first to do so. His body was not rigid, but neither relaxed, his back slightly curved not out of weakness, but from the accumulated wear of years dedicated to the same work; his white coat was clean, but not new, with folds that had not been corrected because they did not interfere with his function. The blue gloves fit his hands with precision, and his glasses rested on the bridge of his nose without shifting, as if even that small detail had been measured so as not to require constant adjustments.

—Good evening, Helena— he said, his voice clear, without harshness, with a closeness that did not break respect—. I hope you are well—.

Helena responded without modifying her posture nor adding unnecessary gestures, but with the same contained closeness that defined that type of interaction.

—Good evening— she replied—. I am well, thank you for asking. I hope the same for you—.

There was no further exchange at that moment, not because there was a lack of content, but because it was not the moment to extend it.

Beside the man, the young woman did not wait. Her presence contrasted with everything around her, not by rupture, but by a different integration. Her hair, dyed in tones that oscillated between violet and pink, did not absorb the light in the same way as the environment, but captured it in soft reflections that did not interfere with her face. Her clothing did not follow the logic of uniformity of the place, but neither did it contradict it; it was functional, comfortable, chosen without the intention of standing out, but inevitably visible within that space. The dark glasses she wore did not completely hide her gaze, because on their surface blue glimmers were reflected that were not external, but internal, as if within them there existed an active system that processed information constantly.

When Selena approached close enough, the distance ceased to be formal. The young woman stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her in a gesture that was not impulsive, but natural, contained within the trust that existed between them. There was no excessive force nor dramatism, only a brief and warm contact that Selena accepted without resisting, without rigidity, allowing the gesture without losing the structure that defined her.

—I’m glad to see you— said the young woman with a smile that did not need to widen to be evident—. As beautiful as ever—.

Selena did not respond immediately, but neither did she pull away abruptly. Her expression did not break, her posture did not relax more than necessary, but in the way she allowed that moment there existed a barely perceptible nuance, a minimal variation within her usual control.

—Thank you— she finally responded, her voice steady—. I hope the same for you—.

The contact dissolved without discomfort nor need to be prolonged, and in the same flow in which it ended, Selena returned to the central point without deviating into the personal. —Reichel— she said, addressing her with precision—. What have you found?—

Reichel did not respond immediately, her smile did not disappear, but it adjusted slightly, as if the tone of the conversation had changed without needing to be explicitly marked. —It is better to show it— she replied, turning her face slightly toward the man—. Unless Doctor Jorge has another opinion—.

The man shook his head without hesitation, without raising his voice. —No— he said with calm firmness—. It is better that you see it—.

There was no further preamble nor prior explanation. The four figures moved toward the table in the center of the room, their steps did not generate echo nor alter the surface, as if the space itself absorbed any unnecessary manifestation of movement.

Helena did not move her gaze forward nor attempt to interpret what she would see before standing in front of it. Selena maintained the same control she had shown from the beginning, her attention completely focused on what was about to be revealed. Reichel advanced without haste, but without stopping, and Doctor Jorge accompanied the movement with the same steadiness.

The distance closed. The table occupied the center of their field of vision. And what was on it had not yet been named.

The final distance was not covered with haste nor hesitation, and when their positions aligned in front of the surface, the space ceased to be an abstract environment to define itself completely through what rested there. The uniform clarity of the room did not hide anything nor soften contours, and precisely because of that, what extended over the table could not be reduced to a simple accumulation of remains, but imposed itself as a structured evidence of something that had not been designed under conventional parameters.

The metallic plates were not arranged as clean pieces separated from each other, but as fragments that still retained connection with what had once been their original function, rigid surfaces to which organic layers adhered that did not correspond to a natural assembly. It was not a precise union nor a harmonious integration, but a forced fixation, where tissues that should belong solely to a human body remained anchored to metal structures with a continuity that was not organic, but neither completely artificial.

In some segments, that transition was more evident.

Sections of limbs opened not in clean cuts, but in openings that revealed the coexistence of two systems that had not been meant to share space: bone structures traversed by technological elements that did not limit themselves to surrounding them, but inserted into them, extending toward the external framework that covered them, as if the metal were not on the body, but within it. There was no uniformity in that process nor a pattern that could be clearly repeated, and precisely because of that, what was observed did not convey design, but forced adaptation.

The torso that occupied a central part of the table reinforced that perception. It was not presented as a complete figure, not even as a structure that could be immediately reconstructed, but as an exposed section where the human and the mechanical coexisted without a clear line of separation. The internal elements were not intact, but neither completely destroyed, and around them, the metallic framework did not fulfill a function of protection, but of containment, as if it kept everything in place not for stability, but out of necessity.

The white surface of the table absorbed that contrast without altering, and in the midst of all of it, the two spheres remained. Their presence did not compete with the rest of the elements, but neither was it lost among them. They were smooth, transparent, without visible imperfections in their external structure, but marked by dried residues that had not been completely cleaned, signs of prior manipulation that did not interfere with their integrity, but that directly linked them with the rest of the material.

In one of them, the black cube rested at the bottom, motionless, without emitting light nor visible reaction, but with a density that did not correspond to its size. It did not seem to float nor to be suspended by a mechanism, it was simply there, contained within a space that did not alter it.

The second sphere was different. Inside it, the white form was not completely solid, it did not have defined edges like the cube, but presented a structure that resembled contained clouds, a volume that did not disperse, but that did not fix itself into a rigid form either. It did not move, but neither did it feel completely static, as if it existed in a state that did not require displacement to remain active.

The silence that accompanied that observation was not uncomfortable, but necessary.

It was Doctor Jorge who broke it.

—These components... —he began, his voice maintaining the same steadiness he had shown from the beginning— do not correspond to any system that we have previously cataloged—.

He did not take his gaze off the table while speaking, not because he avoided contact, but because his reference was there.

—The metallic alloys are being analyzed— he continued—. They are complex combinations, with elements that we are still in the process of identifying with precision—.

There was no uncertainty in his tone, only recognition of an incomplete process.

—But that is not the main problem—.

The pause was brief, enough to mark the difference between the technical and what truly mattered.

—The problem... is the human parts—.

He did not raise his voice nor emphasize the phrase, but the weight of what it implied did not need reinforcement.

—They are not coupled... —he added—. They are integrated—.

The word was not chosen at random.

—It is not an assembly. It is a fusion—.

Helena did not react externally, but her attention anchored itself on that point, not on the visual, but on the implication that that statement carried with it. It was not a design error nor a failed attempt, it was a result.

—The energy source remains undetermined— the doctor continued—. There are no visible systems that explain the complete functioning of these structures—.

It was then that Reichel intervened.

—But we have a fairly consistent theory— she said with a lightness that did not detract from the seriousness of her words, approaching the table slightly without invading the others’ space—. I have been working with the spheres—.

Her gaze was not fixed on a single point, but moved across the elements with a familiarity that indicated time invested in their study.

—They do not function in isolation— she added—. All of this... —she made a slight gesture toward the table— seems to respond as a complete system—.

Her smile did not disappear, but it became more contained.

—The spheres do not react to conventional stimuli— she continued—. It is not electricity, it is not pressure, it is not heat within normal ranges—.

She paused for a moment, not out of doubt, but for precision.

—But something activates them—.

She did not state it as absolute certainty, but as a clear direction.

—And when it does... —she added—, all of this should respond together—.

The silence returned, not as emptiness, but as consolidation of what had been said.

Reichel stepped slightly away from the table and approached Selena with the same naturalness with which she had received her before.

—So then— she said, maintaining that slightly lighter tone—, can you give us more context on how you obtained all of this?—.

It was not a demand, but a direct request.

Before Selena responded, Helena intervened.

—That will be complicated— she said calmly—. It was our allies who faced those units—.

She did not add names nor define them beyond that. —They are not... particularly sociable without a specific reason—. Her voice did not change, but the meaning was clear. —However, we can negotiate that information—. She did not promise speed, but neither did she rule it out. —As soon as possible—.

There was no objection from either of the two.

Helena then shifted her attention from the table toward both scientists. —Can you replicate it?—. The question did not seek nuance, it was direct and functional.

Reichel and Doctor Jorge exchanged a brief glance, enough to align an answer without the need for words.

—No— the doctor finally replied—. Not until the analysis is complete—.

Reichel nodded slightly. —We can understand parts— she added—, but not the complete system—.

Helena did not show frustration. —Then we will wait—. It was not a decision that required discussion. —In the meantime— she continued— we will move forward with other processes—. The closing was not abrupt, but it was definitive. —It is better to withdraw for now—.

Selena did not move immediately. —I will stay— she said with the same calm—. I need to speak with Reichel about other aspects of the study—.

Helena observed her for a moment longer than usual, not evaluating the decision, but confirming it, and then a slight smile appeared on her expression, brief and controlled, sufficient. —All right—.

She added nothing more. She turned her body slightly. —Doctor— she said—, will you accompany me?—

—Of course— he replied without hesitation.

Both headed toward the exit with the same composure with which they had entered, their steps did not alter the rhythm of the place, and when they crossed the threshold, the door closed again with the same silent precision.

The space was reduced. Only Selena and Reichel remained inside. The difference was not felt in the volume of the place, but in the dynamic that was now allowed.

Reichel turned toward Selena with a more open expression, without entirely losing the restraint. —So then— she said—, what do you want to talk about?—

Selena did not respond immediately. Her gaze slid once more toward the table.

—Let’s go somewhere else— she finally said—. Somewhere without... this—.

She did not need to point.

Reichel let out a slight laugh. —No problem—.

Without more, she turned toward the secondary exit of the room, initiating the movement toward another space, and Selena followed her without stopping.

Behind them, the table remained intact.

Silent Waiting.

_____________________________________________

END OF Chapter 90

The path continues...

New Chapters are revealed every

Sunday, and also between Wednesday or Thursday,

when the will of the tale so decides.

Each one leaves another scar on Sebastián’s journey.

If this abyss resonated with you, 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

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