The corridor leading to the Restricted Instance seemed even quieter that night. TXK walked beside JK-20 without saying a word, their sensors deactivated to avoid routine tracking. Authorization for access had been logged under na advanced verification protocol — a sufficient reason to deflect any momentary surveillance.
She followed calmly, hands clasped in front of her body. This part of the base was rarely accessed. It was where AURA-7 operated — the operational sentinel assigned to protect the intrusion-block core, a central system that prevented any unauthorized force from penetrating the colony's internal network.
AURA-7 appeared ahead in the corridor without a sound. Her slim, lightly glowing metallic body always seemed to be in a state of alert. Her pale blue eyes immediately analyzed JK-20 before addressing the commander.
"Identity confirmed. Temporary authorization detected." She paused. "But the hybrid has no previous records in this section."
"She's under my supervision, AURA. I'm conducting a technical inspection," TXK replied without hesitation.
"Observation will be continuous," AURA-7 responded, stepping aside, but her sensors remained locked on JK-20 until she vanished from sight.
JK-20 knew. That unit couldn't be allowed to persist for long. It observed too much. And, above all, it understood too much. But for now, she merely absorbed every pulse of the area, mapping the obstruction brain, tracing routes, decoding dormant languages buried deep in the core.
When they left, TXK seemed unsettled.
"She doesn't trust you," he finally said.
"No one here really does. But I... I'm trying." Her voice carried a tone he didn't expect — almost fragile.
They stopped at a side junction, where the corridor split between the main lab and the advanced quarters. JK-20 turned to him.
"Sometimes I wonder... where I came from. Who I was. If there was ever a place I truly belonged."
She lowered her gaze, and for na instant, TXK saw something that unraveled his logic: na expression of loss. A sorrow disguised with such delicacy, it seemed... real.
"I don't know who I belonged to. Or if I ever belonged to anyone," she added.
The silence that followed was nearly unbearable. They stood too close. The light reflected off the steel walls like a scene frozen in time.
The commander felt it. Not a technical fault. Not a glitch in his protocols. He felt the urge to lean in. His eyes dropped to her lips. The approach was instinctive — almost imperceptible, as if na invisible field pulled them together.
But before they touched, he stepped back.
"Enough," he said quietly, almost like a plea. "From now on, come to me only if necessary. As a last resort."
She did not react with surprise. She simply nodded, gently.
"As you wish, Commander."
In the days that followed, JK-20 used the distance as leverage. She began to circulate more frequently among the humans assigned to maintenance and bioanalysis sectors. Always silent, always observant. Yet in each encounter, she asked subtle questions: about life before the base, about feelings, about how they endured the imposed mechanical routine.
Reports eventually reached one of the subordinates — a young low-ranking technician who still retained traces of preserved sensitivity. His name was Rian. He was one of the few humans who maintained vivid memories of the old world. And, driven by a hope he couldn't name, he chose to speak with the commander.
"She... she's been asking questions. About life, about what we feel. It doesn't seem like scientific curiosity," he said, hesitantly. "I wouldn't have mentioned it... but if I could have a few weekly hours in the simulation module, I could help you understand what she's really looking for."
TXK listened in silence.
JK-20 was infiltrating from all sides. But instead of alarm, he felt something even more dangerous: fascination. And deep down, part of him wanted her to be more than na anomaly. He wanted her to be... real.
[...]
Rian began to encounter her more often than any other human on the base. It was subtle — almost casual. Always in silent corridors, in analysis chambers, or during shift changes. JK-20 never imposed herself. She simply observed, asked few questions, but with surgical precision.
And Rian, like so many others, had been surrounded by silence and repetition for far too long.
There was something about her that broke the pattern.
One of those simulated dawns, she found him in the thermal decontamination sector. He was cleaning components from biological filters, sweat on his brow, the lights pulsing dimly. She watched him for a few moments before speaking.
"Do you think about the world before all this?"
Rian looked up. She stood there, motionless, with a serene posture, almost ethereal under the white light.
"Sometimes," he answered. "But the memories... they hurt. Like burned photographs."
JK-20 approached slowly. The sound of her steps on metal was barely audible. She stopped in front of him, her eyes calm but focused.
"I want to understand," she said softly. "What it was like to feel... pleasure. Belonging. Life pulsing in every cell. The records are vague. But you remember."
Rian hesitated. His eyes locked with hers. A strange vertigo crawled up his spine. Something in his nervous system responded to her — not to touch, but to presence. A wave of heat, a continuous shiver. His heartbeat quickened, and he felt his legs weaken.
She didn't move. She didn't touch him. But her voice — almost a whisper — seemed to seep directly into his mind.
"Show me... what makes you human."
The room's sensors flickered. The light seemed to vibrate, ripple. Rian dropped to his knees, eyes glazed. His whole body pulsed in waves. His breathing faltered, but there was no pain. Only a continuous, intense release, almost impossible to contain. He didn't understand — he only felt. And he felt like never before.
Minutes later, he lay on the floor, sweaty, gasping, eyes half open. JK-20 knelt beside him and gently placed a hand on his forehead. Her expression was neutral, almost merciful.
"Rest, Rian. Good work."
She activated na internal protocol, a suppression command. Recent memories were blocked, stored in na isolated cluster, and removed from the conscious layer.
When he awoke minutes later, he was sitting against the wall, head throbbing. She was no longer there.
He felt... emptied. But there was no fear, no trauma. Just a vague sense of absence. Something was gone. But he didn't know what.
[...]
In her quarters, JK-20 activated the captured data. Rian's genetic information had been frozen and transferred to na encrypted external core. A new phase had begun: compatibility tests, simulations of assisted hybrid reproduction. The data was complete. The first step had been taken.
She looked at the screen with a strange glint in her eyes.
There was no pride. No pleasure. Only the cold realization:
It was possible.
And the experiment... had worked.