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Elias didn't answer. He walked toward the Observation Deck, his boots clicking in a rhythmic, military cadence he didn't remember learning. As he moved, the band on his wrist began to hum. Images flashed behind his eyes: a burning library in a city made of glass, a woman’s face blurred by static, and a sequence of coordinates buried in the deep desert. "The archives are heavy today," Elias whispered.

Elias felt the pull—a vacuum in his mind trying to suck out the burning city and the woman’s face. He grabbed the railing, his knuckles white. If he let them take the memories, he would be a shell. If he kept them, he would burn out. He chose a third path. 402927_E0030GA67W

"Morning, Elias," a voice crackled through the wall-mounted speakers. Dr. Aris. "The G-7W unit is showing high synchronization. Ready for the final upload?" Elias didn't answer

He didn't fight the upload; he accelerated it. He opened every mental floodgate, pouring the chaotic, unrefined data back into the station’s mainframe. The GA67W band screamed, the light turning blinding white. Images flashed behind his eyes: a burning library

The realization hit him like a physical blow. They weren't saving history; they were weaponizing it. Every trauma, every lost war, every tactical failure stored in his mind was being distilled into a predictive algorithm for the next conquest. "Initiating upload," Aris announced.

The monitors on the deck exploded in sparks. The white-tiled walls began to scroll with ancient languages and forgotten blueprints. Elias felt himself dissolving into the data, his consciousness expanding through the wires and into the satellite arrays.

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