"Sigma!!" Jacques shouted in anger toward the attic of his small, white prison. "Put me in that dream machine again! Sigma!!"
He yelled in every direction, knowing that Sigma's holographic screen could appear anywhere, anytime it wanted. There was no exit, no sign of a door—just endless white walls, flat and featureless.
"I know you can hear me because you're always watching! Put me back in that dream machine again!" Jacques roared.
After hours of screaming, his throat grew raw, forcing him into silence. He collapsed onto the bed, leaning his head against the wall as he tried to recall the dream.
What was his fucking name?!
He had spoken it—he was sure of it—but now it was gone again.
He had never seen that man before, never met him, not in any memory he could recall. And yet, the feelings were real. The urge to be where he was waiting was undeniable.
Maybe that dreamwave therapy machine held the key to unlocking what he couldn't see about himself. If he kept walking through its illusions, maybe—just maybe—he would finally remember that name.
Little he know or realized that back then when he was laying motionless in LUCY's chair, something was stolen from him. He was in the most vulnerable state, body and mind, trapped in the endless journey to the amusement park, the therapist knows from his brainwave that he will not wake up, he was in the deep sleep.
That's when they start to do what become the point of all this.
They moved swiftly, knowing they had a limited window before his body would start responding to external stimuli. LUCY's electrodes continued to map his subconscious journey, ensuring that his mind remained trapped in the fabricated dreamscape while they worked.
A quiet hum filled the room as the automated arms descended, their sterile needles glinting under the dim blue lights. The first puncture was silent—a microneedle pressing into the soft flesh of his inner elbow, siphoning a steady stream of blood into a collection vial. Another needle, thinner and sharper, found its way to the base of his skull, extracting a precise amount of cerebrospinal fluid, ensuring they captured every aspect of his neurological makeup.
Beneath the surface, more invasive procedures were happening. A robotic probe adjusted his chair slightly, exposing a section of his hip where a hidden injector pierced through the skin, reaching deep into the bone marrow. The machine vibrated softly as it extracted a crucial sample of stem cells—raw, undifferentiated material that could be used to replicate him down to the finest detail.
The team remained silent, their eyes fixed on the monitors as data poured in. Genetic sequences assembled in real time, Jacques' full DNA structure unfolding like an intricate map. But they weren't just collecting his genetic material—they were decoding him. His stress responses, his inherited instincts, the very blueprint of his existence. Everything that made him him was being stolen, piece by piece, reduced to lines of code and biological samples.
By the time they were done, not a single mark remained on his body. The wounds sealed themselves within seconds, the punctures so microscopic that even if he looked, he would find nothing. To Jacques, it would be as if nothing had happened.
To Sigma, this is a big victory. Finally, a full genuine complete sample of an extinct race, the most difficult one to clone or breed is in his hand.
however, extracting is the easiest part. The hardest part is just begin.
In the sterile room, a group of bio egineer scientist are impatiently start their cloning process. They really love to see the glitering beautiful aether cell under microscope. it glows with rainbow color, shining like firefly.
"Look at this baby....so beautiful," a senior scientist, Dr Zhicotte grins as he admires the rarest cell in the whole universe.
"Is that aether cell? I thought it would looked more .... outstanding," Dr Maxis, still young, 21 years old genius just join the project, hired because of his briliance.
"Who cares about appearance, this is what will make us rich and famous, forever be known as the hero who make significant break through in biotechnology; the true creator of Superman," Dr Zhicotte grins.
***
Ethan sits in the passenger seat, trying his best to enjoy the panorama outside the car window. The slow country music playing softly from the car's dashboard adds to the quiet atmosphere. Marie yawns; she has been driving for four hours from Attol to Hibrina, where Bruno is currently studying carpentry. After being forced to leave the police academy due to false accusations of drug possession, that was the only place that would accept him.
They need Bruno to testify in support of Jacques.
If they can prove that Jacques is well-liked by his friends and isn't a troublemaker, it could help strengthen his case and increase his chances of winning his freedom.
But something else weighs heavily on Ethan's mind.
Yesterday, he had to talk to Mourice over the phone, trying to convince him to defend Jacques in court. Mourice hung up after making an indecent proposition—asking Ethan for a date in exchange for his help.
There was no way Ethan would sell himself like that.
His phone beeps. Taking a quick glance, he sees a message from Mourice.
"So, how was it? If you refuse, I might tell the police what he did to me," the text reads.
Ethan doesn't respond. Instead, he puts his phone back into his jacket pocket, sighs deeply, and returns his gaze to the passing scenery.
Did he screw everything up?
He had thought he could persuade Mourice, but he underestimated how ambitious and manipulative the guy could be.
"You don't seem like yourself today. Something on your mind?" Marie asks. She assumes Ethan is simply worried about whether their plan will work or not.
"Yeah… I think I messed up our plan," Ethan says, rubbing his tired eyes in frustration.
"How? You've been so helpful so far," Marie offers a reassuring smile.
"It's about Mourice," Ethan exhales, as if trying to rid himself of his frustration. "I should've never called him."
"You called Mourice?" Marie's smile fades. She can already sense trouble and waits for him to continue.
"I just wanted to make sure he wouldn't testify against Jacques. I hoped he'd help clarify that this was all just a misunderstanding. But instead, he asked for something in return. If I don't agree, he'll testify against Jacques and make up lies."
Ethan looks even more dejected. If he had never called Mourice last night, none of this would have happened.
"I'm sorry, Marie. I was such a fool," he sighs.
Marie stays silent for a moment, focusing on the road. What can she even say? The situation was already bad enough with Jacques being taken by the government.
"Well, if we hadn't spoken to him at all, he probably would've testified against Jacques anyway," she finally says, offering a small smile. "Right?"
Ethan nods. "Yeah… but it feels like I just made things worse."
"No, you didn't. What exactly does he want from you? Money?"
Ethan sighs before answering, "He wants a date."
Marie raises an amused eyebrow. "Oh? Why did you reject him? He seems like a handsome boy, and his father is a powerful man, isn't he?"
"Because a lame personality isn't sexy to me," Ethan shrugs.
Marie chuckles. "How is his personality lame?"
"He dumped his girlfriend for Charles—the same Charles he took from J—" Ethan stops mid-sentence, correcting himself. "Jayson… And now that he has Charles, he's already chasing after someone else. I mean, come on."
Of course, Marie knows Ethan isn't talking about Jayson. She has already gone through all of Jacques's messages. She saw how desperately Jacques had been texting Charles—pleading for him to communicate, asking where he was—yet receiving no response. A one-sided conversation, unanswered messages filled with heartbreak.
It doesn't take much for Marie to piece things together.
This is a love triangle.
Mourice stole her son's boyfriend. That's why Jacques was furious. That's why he lashed out at Mourice, leading to him being perceived as dangerous.
Was Jacques's anger understandable? Absolutely.
Was his anger valid? Yes.
But did Mourice deserve what happened?
Marie isn't so sure.
She believes Jacques should have sought a different kind of revenge—by moving on, by proving he was better than all of them. If he hadn't let his emotions take over, he could have shown them all how bright his future was meant to be.
"Ethan," Marie speaks as they enter the gas station. "Why do you care so much about Jacques, if I may ask?"
Ethan really doesn't want to answer, but knowing that Marie has already read through all of Jacques's messages, he can tell she already knows how he feels about her son. And Ethan isn't the type to pretend to be someone he's not.
Honestly, Ethan doesn't even know how to explain it when someone asks that question. How do you put it into words without sounding delusional or crazy? He isn't sure if other people realize what's actually been happening all this time—that they're all trapped in something...
"Because he's my best friend," Ethan answers simply.
"Just a friend?" Marie parks the car in the lot, then looks at Ethan and smiles.
"Yeah," Ethan nods.
"Ethan, my friend is scheduled to call soon, but I need to go to the bathroom. Please hold this for me," Marie says, handing him her phone.
Ethan raises his eyebrows as he takes it. "B-but..."
"The passcode is 9321. Don't give it to anyone, especially the police," Marie winks at him before stepping out of the car.
She trusts him. She gave him her phone! Ethan doesn't know how to feel about it.
He's tempted to enter the passcode, but he stops himself. "It's her privacy. Just because she let me hold it doesn't mean I should look."
Ethan slips her phone into his jacket and leaves the car to buy a chocolate bar from the mini market. He leaves his own phone behind, locking it with an easy-to-guess pattern—as if silently telling Marie that he trusts her too.
As Ethan steps into the mini market, he doesn't realize that someone has quietly sneaked into the car, hiding in the back seat... waiting patiently.