She was walking again, but this time with a destination. Why did the men stop? They stood in someone’s office, windowless but generous, minimalistic in furniture and decor. But, unlike the eternal boring place, there was something here: a room with objects, a chair to sit on, an abstract vase to throw in frustration, a desk to cry on. Had it always been here, so close? She had settled in for a long march, but the men barely dragged her twenty paces when the room appeared.

Linuka needed to convince the man that she was not a threat. By telling a simple story, not bending the truth too much. She found one, but then it was gone. She couldn’t hold on to a single convincing thought. Her mind turned into the ocean, and her words floated away, got pulled underwater, sank into a dark abyss. A muffled thud. Forehead pain. Dull paralysis. She never lost consciousness, but consciousness lost her.

“Are the others prisoners? Military?” “I don’t know about military, but were they prisoners before they came here? Absolutely yes. Convicted criminals, most of them.” The man hesitated. “And now you.” “What about me?” “Even the convicts in the group didn’t have an encapsulated segment without console access. You got transfer protocols turned off, no memory bus access.” “I told you they made a mistake.” “Or they wanted to make sure you stayed put.”