Pene lay in the bed Chris had set up for her, her thin body now frail and pale, the familiar ache returning, a slow, relentless tide that crept up her spine and settled into her joints. The lab had a cold sterility to it, everything white and clinical, like a place where nothing ever lived—except now, Pene. Her eyes, the same shade of dull amber, flicked around the room, lingering on the unfamiliar instruments, the machines that beeped softly in time with her slowing heart, as though they were counting down to something. 

Chris had been quiet most of the time, focused on her work, moving in and out of the small living space like an echo in the sterile room. The air was thin, the light too bright, and the silence stretched on between them. There were no sounds of children running around, no wind blowing through an open window. Just the rhythmic pulse of the machines, and the gentle creaking of the bed beneath her.

Pene had never imagined dying would feel like this. The first time, when she'd closed her eyes in her home, in the sun, surrounded by those she loved, there had been an easy peace, a letting go, like slipping into the cool embrace of a deep, dark ocean. There had been no fear then, no lingering doubts. It had felt like a release, like a long-awaited exhale after a lifetime of pain. 

But now, as she lay here in this strange room, with no warmth in her bones and nothing to soothe her soul, the fear crept in.

It wasn’t the dying that terrified her. It was what came after. The unknown. 

She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the faint hum of the lab equipment. Had she chosen wrong? Was this her final death, or would something call her back again? Was there even an end to this torment? Could there be more than just nothingness waiting for her? The thought gnawed at her—what if this wasn’t the final release she sought? What if there was more to endure, more to suffer through before she could truly let go?

The quiet click of a door opening drew her from her thoughts. She turned her head slowly, finding Chris standing there, holding a clipboard in her hands. The researcher’s expression was soft, patient, as always. 

“You’re fading,” Chris said gently, setting the clipboard down on a nearby counter. She moved toward Pene’s bed, checking the monitor that beeped steadily by her side. “I’ll need to take a few more samples.”

Pene nodded, too weak to speak. She didn’t feel the need to explain her fears to Chris. The woman was kind, respectful, and yet so distant in her own way. She was there for the research, there for the data. And in the end, that’s all Pene was now: a subject to be studied. 

Chris moved with precision, attaching electrodes to Pene’s chest, her hands cool against Pene’s burning skin. She was careful, gentle, almost tender in her ministrations. Pene had no doubt that Chris cared for her, at least in the way that someone might care for a specimen, a thing to be kept alive long enough to reach an answer. But that was it. 

Pene could feel herself growing heavier, the weight of her own body pulling her down as her illness gnawed at her from the inside. Each breath was harder than the last, and the machines beside her whined softly in protest. 

“Why do you do it?” Pene asked, her voice barely a whisper, weak with exhaustion. Her eyes fluttered closed again, but she fought to keep them open, to hold onto the fleeting moment. “Why do you do this research?”

Chris paused, her fingers stilling as she worked. For a moment, the hum of the equipment filled the space between them. 

“You wanted to die,” Chris said simply, her voice soft but firm. She continued with her work, steadying the monitor as she adjusted the settings. “And now you have a choice. A chance to choose something different. I want to understand what it is to be human. To be mortal. You don’t have to do this alone anymore. Now we go together.”

Pene couldn’t argue with that. She had a choice. It was all she had now. 

But what was the cost of that choice? The possibility that this was all she could hope for now? A life lived, over and over? Was it without end? 

“Do you think I’ll ever be free of this?” she asked, her voice barely audible, the words slipping out in the silence that followed.

Chris didn’t answer right away. She simply watched Pene, her eyes distant as she finished her task. 

“I don’t know,” she said softly, and Pene could hear the weight of the truth in her voice. “I don’t know if any of us can.”

Pene let out a breath, her chest heaving in a shallow gasp. She wanted to close her eyes again, but there was a gnawing fear that held them open, forcing her to face the uncertainty of what came next. 

“Then what’s the point?” she whispered, but Chris was already moving away from her, the quiet rhythm of the lab filling the space once more.

There was nothing more to say. Pene could feel her body slipping further away, the chill sinking into her bones, but still the fear lingered. She thought of Essence, of the years they had spent together, of the pain that had driven them apart. She thought of Chris, the woman who had promised her a new ending, a chance to escape the life she had once known. 

But none of it made sense anymore. She couldn’t make sense of any of it.

As the world grew dim around her, Pene wondered if this time, finally, she might be free. Or if she would find herself waking up once more, only to be pulled back into the same endless cycle. 

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t know if she had the strength to find out.

And that was what truly terrified her.