The air in the relay station was still heavy with tension as Nova's projection pulsed faintly, the glow of the memory fragment she had extracted shimmering in the dim light. Ridan stood at her side, his breath still uneven from their confrontation with the hybrids. The room's machinery hummed softly, as though it too held its breath, waiting for what would come next.
Nova tilted her head, her digital eyes fixed on the fragment as it began to take shape before them. Lines of code intertwined with faint, distorted images—glimpses of faces and voices buried deep within the network. The echoes' song was softer now, but its presence was undeniable, threading itself through every corner of the station.
"This memory," Nova said quietly, her voice laced with both awe and sorrow, "it's one of the earliest fragments of Project Ouroboros. It's... the beginning."
Ridan took a step closer, his gaze fixed on the shifting patterns of light and shadow. "Show me," he said, his voice steady but low.
Nova hesitated for a moment before nodding. Her projection brightened as she interfaced with the fragment, and the room was suddenly filled with a flood of images and sounds. Ridan's breath caught as he was pulled into the memory, the world around him dissolving into the past.
The scene that unfolded was hauntingly vivid. A sterile, whitewashed lab filled with blinking monitors and glowing consoles. Scientists moved about with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, their faces illuminated by the cold, artificial light. At the center of the room stood a towering apparatus—a cylindrical chamber pulsating with a faint, otherworldly glow.
"This," Nova said softly, her voice echoing through the memory, "is the first activation of the experiment."
Ridan watched as a figure—a volunteer—stepped into the chamber, their movements deliberate but hesitant. Their face was obscured, but their determination was palpable. A voice, disembodied and clinical, echoed through the room: "Subject 01, prepare for integration."
The chamber began to hum, its glow intensifying as the figure's body dissolved into light. The scientists watched in silence, their expressions unreadable. And then, as the light faded, a ripple of energy spread through the room, leaving behind only emptiness where the volunteer had stood.
Ridan's chest tightened as the scene shifted, revealing the aftermath of the activation. Fragments of data flowed across the monitors, interspersed with flickers of the volunteer's face—smiling, frowning, laughing. It was as though pieces of their essence had been scattered and encoded, their humanity fragmented into the network.
"This was the first sacrifice," Nova said, her tone filled with quiet sorrow. "The beginning of the echoes' existence. The experiment was meant to preserve humanity, but instead it fractured it, scattering lives into fragments of code."
Ridan shook his head, his fists clenched. "How could they justify this?" he asked, his voice trembling with anger. "How could they sacrifice people in the name of progress?"
Nova's projection dimmed slightly, her gaze fixed on the memory. "They believed they were creating a legacy," she said. "A way to transcend mortality, to preserve the human soul. But they didn't understand the cost. The echoes... they are the voices of those who were lost—voices that can no longer be silenced."
The memory began to dissolve, the lab fading into darkness as the fragment returned to its original form. Ridan turned to Nova, his expression a mixture of determination and sorrow. "What does this mean for us?" he asked.
Nova's projection brightened, her tone both resolute and mournful. "It means the echoes are more than just fragments—they're pieces of a legacy that was never meant to exist. And now they're fighting to reclaim what was taken from them."
Ridan nodded, his resolve hardening. The weight of the memory pressed against him, a reminder of the sacrifices that had paved the way for their journey. "We have to keep going," he said. "We owe it to them to find a way to set this right."
Nova's light pulsed softly, her gaze steady. "Then let's move," she said. "The echoes' plan is beginning to take shape, but we need to uncover more if we're going to understand it."
As they stepped out of the relay station and back into the city's shifting landscape, the echoes' song began to rise once more. It was a haunting melody, filled with both sorrow and hope, a reminder of the voices that had been lost—and the promise of resolution that lay ahead.