A man sat meditating quietly in a white padded room, wearing a simple T-shirt and comfortable pants. He remained completely still, almost as if mimicking a statue’s posture was a point of pride for him. But if one paid close attention, one would notice the lack of minute movements related to breath. He sat perfectly still – rigid. He wasn’t breathing and, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be dead, suspended in some perverse animation.

  And yet he wasn’t, as breathing was a concern that no longer bothered him.

  The man opened his eyes and stood up before gingerly taking a step forward as if he had just been fast asleep and still suffered from the grogginess of a sudden awakening. He took a second step forward and nearly stumbled, this time simply not accustomed to the tremendous increase in bulk and weight he had experienced while under. Then he took a third, and fourth, and a fifth, finding confidence and familiarity in his own actions.

  He strode to a floor-to-ceiling mirror, studying the changes that had occurred with subdued interest. Seo had always been muscular, but now he seemed to have become a titan forged from veritable steel. He took off his shirt, displaying glistening abs as he observed his body, noting the differences – he had grown marginally taller and the vicissitudes of life-the scars, the calluses–had seemingly melted away, leaving his skin unblemished.

  Seo paused for a moment, averting his gaze slightly toward the ground, partly unwilling to acknowledge the more striking changes.

  I looked forward again, focusing on my face—it endured—but my previously well-kept black hair had grown long and wild and, most importantly, stark white. I briefly twirled a few fibers in my fingers, noting that it had become even thicker than before.

  I then took a deep breath before addressing the elephant in the room: my eyes. They had become bloodshot, not in the sense of strained but literally. The sclera had been dyed a vivid blood red. The pupil and iris had switched countenance—the outer eye becoming black and the inner eye constricting to a pinprick the same stark white as my hair.

  I stared coldly. Then I ruffled my hair with childish irritation. Before picking a mood, my expression grew impassive yet peaceful. My pupils loosened slightly, expanding as all my memories finished flooding in, settling properly in my psyche. I stood silently for a moment before looking upwards while slightly clenching my fist.

  My convictions were unclear, to say the least.

  ‘What was I supposed to do?’ I questioned.

  ‘What was I supposed to do when clearly nothing was the same.’

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  I shelved those doubts temporarily, addressing the artificial intelligence assistant:

  “Ajax, what’s with the sudden change in hair color?”

  A cool and composed male voice answered.

  “The extreme nature of the experiment and the extended exposure lead to the participant enduring significant pressure which lead to unforeseen physiological side-effects.”

  “Stress…” I mumbled, already confirming my suspicions.

  I then pointed to my eyes, and the AI responded in sync.

  “Unknown. The combination of stress factors led to near constant rupturing of the eye capillaries, leading to a gradual transformation of the visual organ as it was fully integrated in the mutations the participant experienced.”

  I momentarily basked in Ajax’s familiar voice, reveling in a forgotten sense of kinship. I remember that measured tone, which failed to conceal the subtle burning fervor beneath, the thirst for something more. I simply chuckled mentally in response– after all, Ajax was never meant to be a peaceful AI.

  I wandered for a bit before sitting back down.

  “Ajax run a diagnostics routine.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  I took a moment to collect my thoughts as various windows and prompts appeared and disappeared in front of me at a blistering speed. I followed the movements on the screen absentmindedly, fully aware that the directories and pages were moving far faster than the human eye could track unassisted—except I could, and with surprising clarity

  ‘Huh,’ I thought to myself.

  “Ajax forego any attempt at contact outside the base’s main network.”

  I instructed, having followed along with the AI’s proceedings.

  The animated circle’s rotation seemed to hitch for a moment, lost in thought.

  “You’ve changed too.” I commented. The circle simply pulsing in agreement.

  “Also make sure to make no attempt at communication unless told otherwise. “

  “Safety of participant prioritized – within parameters,” the robotic voice answered.

  The flickering screen came to a standstill as Ajax read out a report. In essence, all systems except my pod were no longer operational, and the entire base had lost power after suffering catastrophic damage.

  I fell into deep thought again as I looked around my room. A simple, unadorned bed lay overturned in the corner. To my right, an extensive training room was displayed well, at least what was left still standing. I kept looking, briefly confused, before I leered downwards at the block I had been meditating on, or rather, a crumpled mess of all the weight plates that had somehow been smashed together.

  “Ajax do you have any surveillance records of the time spent before my awakening?”

  “Unfortunately, due to a lack of storage space any nonessential information was wiped in an effort to maintain full functionality despite being cut off from the main server.”

  “Understood.”

  I sat quietly mulling over my surroundings as I searched through my memories, conscious or not. I found most of the answers I was looking for. The rest would come with time. Ah speaking of time – that sense or rather the sentiment of its passing – had become the most distorted.

  I stood again, walking over to my wardrobe, where I exchanged my nightwear for far more practical clothes. I strode forward again, instructing Ajax to open the door. It failed to wince, betraying no signs of wear.

  I took it as a fleeting sign of hope before I asked the most important question.

  And also perhaps the most daunting.

  “How long has it been?”