The shuttle smelled like cleaning fluid and cold metal.
Joseph sat near the rear, hands folded in his lap, watching the Earth fall away through the window. The interior was sleek—quiet, smooth, clinical. No pilot up front. The whole thing was automated, like most transport craft these days. Even so, he couldn't shake the sensation of being watched.
His foot tapped the floor. Left, right. Left, right. Restless rhythm to mask a deeper anxiety.
Fifty thousand credits, he reminded himself. That's the number. You need that number.
But the feeling wouldn't go away—that crawling tightness along his neck. The silence inside the shuttle was too complete. No hum of human conversation. No idle music in the background. Just the hiss of circulation vents and the faint pulse of navigational guidance lights.
Something about it made his skin itch.
He'd heard rumors about Gentech, of course. Everyone had. They were one of the few remaining megacorporations left with deep ties to both Earth's United Council and the Terran Military. People joked that Gentech ran entire sectors of the solar system. Others whispered that they were far more than just tech and medicine. Black projects. Weaponized genetics. Human augmentation trials that never made it to public record.
Joseph had always thought those stories were just conspiracy-laced nonsense. Some part of him still hoped they were.
He swallowed hard and stared out the window again.
Below him, the ground disappeared as the shuttle accelerated through the upper atmosphere. Earth's surface turned to cloud, then blur, then a streak of blue and black. The stars blinked into view.
And then came the Gate.
He didn't see it until they were nearly through.
The Helix Gate wasn't so much a structure as it was a distortion. A fracture in space. A hole wrapped in machinery. It shimmered in his vision like a heat mirage, an impossible spiral of concentric rings twisting against the fabric of reality. For a moment, Joseph felt like he was staring into an eye—a vast, ancient one, older than anything human hands could've built.
What the hell did I just agree to?
The shuttle surged forward. Light bent. Space folded inward.
And then Earth was gone.
The Arrival
The world that greeted Joseph on the other side felt too alive.
The Helixian sky was pale green, overcast with high clouds that moved in silent currents. Beyond the landing zone stretched miles of jagged cliffs and winding rivers, glowing faintly with bioluminescent algae. Strange birds wheeled through the sky, their wings long and translucent. Towering black trees loomed in the distance, their branches curved like bone and dotted with pulsing red fruit.
The base itself was a sharp contrast—metal, concrete, synthetic lights. It jutted out from the land like an invading force. Towers of steel and glass pierced the air, cables running between them like veins. Drones hovered silently at regular intervals, scanning the perimeter with flickering blue optics.
Joseph stepped off the shuttle and was greeted by two guards in grey armor. No insignia. No words. They didn't even ask for ID—just motioned him to follow.
He walked between them, his boots echoing on the landing pad. The air was cool, but not unpleasant. Still, he couldn't shake the pressure building behind his eyes. Like something just past the edge of perception was whispering to him. He tried to ignore it.
The facility's interior was exactly what he expected—and somehow worse.
Sterile white walls. Smooth, spotless floors. Cold air that smelled like sterilizer and static electricity. Every corridor looked the same. Doors without markings. Lights without warmth. Even the people—techs, researchers, and assistants in tailored uniforms—all moved with the same mechanical rhythm, eyes fixed ahead, voices low, if they spoke at all.
Joseph was shown to a waiting room. Empty, except for a table with a tablet, a stylus, and a thick stack of legal forms on a glossy black display.
A woman entered a moment later. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, her eyes sharp behind thin glasses. She wore the kind of suit that probably cost more than Joseph's entire debt history combined.
"Mr. Humbridge," she said, tone precise. "Please begin reviewing the documentation. You may tap to accept each page. I'll be just outside when you're ready."
She turned and left before he could speak.
Joseph sat.
The screen lit up.
GenTech Voluntary Agreement – Trial Participation Waiver
His fingers hovered over the stylus.
There were over seventy pages.
He tried to read the first one. The legal jargon folded in on itself, dense and impenetrable.
Subjects waive all claims to bodily autonomy during Phase One…
Genetic ownership to remain with GenTech throughout the duration of the trial and any unforeseen mutations…
Subject may not withdraw from the program once Phase One has been initiated…
Joseph's brow furrowed.
That didn't sound like a medical trial. That sounded like—
Slavery.
He hesitated.
Then he tapped [ACCEPT].
Then the next. And the next. A rhythm set in. Tap. Accept. Tap. Accept.
He stopped thinking. Stopped reading.
Fifty thousand credits. Just hold on to that.
When the last screen blinked green, the door opened.
A new man entered—mid-fifties, graying hair, wearing a lab coat too long for his height. His steps were quick, his eyes too bright.
"Joseph!" he said, cheerful. "You can call me Doctor Git. And don't worry, I'm not here to shove anything into your orifices. Not yet, anyway."
Joseph blinked.
"Git?" he asked.
"Short for 'Git outta here!'" The doctor laughed, clapped his hands, and added, "Most folks around here don't appreciate my presence. Or my humor. But you'll learn to love me."
Git motioned for Joseph to follow.
They passed through another series of halls, this time lined with clear walls. Behind one, Joseph caught sight of something submerged in green fluid. It looked like a ribcage—human-shaped, but far too large, with branching bones like insect legs curling from the sides.
He didn't ask.
He didn't want to know.
Examination
The exam room was white.
Too white.
Every surface gleamed. The lights were bright enough to wash out color. There was a padded table, a tray of instruments, and nothing else.
Git adjusted his glasses and began the usual tests—blood, saliva, reflexes. He hummed to himself as he worked, muttering phrases like "fascinating" and "impossible retention rate."
"You're healthy," he said at last, "remarkably so. Though…"
Joseph raised an eyebrow. "Though?"
Git frowned. "You've been using stims. A lot of them. And not the cheap kind, either. Your blood chemistry looks like a pharmacy threw up."
Joseph shifted in his seat. "That a problem?"
"Yes," Git said. "Especially the gene-altering ones. They twist your DNA to heighten effect retention. Normally harmless. But in this case…" He tapped his chin. "Problematic. The machines don't like mixed genetics. They prefer things… pure."
"Machines?" Joseph asked.
Git just smiled.
"Don't worry. I'll keep you alive. You're far too interesting to kill."
Before Joseph could question him further, the guards returned. One of them held a black case—the one Joseph had packed.
He opened it.
Pulled out a stim injector.
Joseph's breath caught.
"Those are mine," he said quietly.
"Not anymore," Git replied.
Deeper Into the Labyrinth
They led Joseph to his quarters next—if they could be called that.
A small room. One bed. No windows. A screen on the wall. A toilet in the corner. That was it.
His game pod was missing.
No stim. No distractions. Just silence.
Joseph stood alone, staring at the door after it locked behind him. He pressed his palms to his face, breathing hard.
Then something… shifted.
A soundless ripple at the edge of his thoughts. A presence, watching.
A whisper in the back of his mind.
Joseph.
He staggered, hand gripping the wall.
"What—who—?"
You opened the door. Now I am here.
The voice wasn't loud. It wasn't even spoken aloud.
It was inside.
I am Carl. I am the key. I am the last memory of a dead civilization. And you, Joseph Humbridge, are the only one who can wake it.
Joseph sank slowly onto the bed.
His hands were shaking.
He didn't know whether to scream, cry, or laugh.
So instead…
He just whispered to the empty air:
"…What the hell have I gotten myself into?"