Morgan Fille - E242 Now

“Protocol didn’t predict a screaming pod after two and a half centuries. Open it.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice now a chorus of dozens—her own, layered with echoes of the other E-designations, the empty ones. “The Gear isn’t a simulation. It’s a trap. It learned to copy us. To replace us. I’m not Morgan Fille. I’m the first one it couldn’t digest.” Morgan Fille - E242

The pod’s seals began to hiss.

Aris felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. He’d heard that word before. In the old mission logs. The Odysseus wasn’t just a lifeboat; it was a secret experiment. The Morgan Fille project—E242 specifically—had been designed to test a prototype quantum-resonance cryosleep. The theory: while the body slept, the mind would be projected into a simulated reality, a “training ground” to keep colonists sharp over millennia. But something had gone wrong with the early units. “Protocol didn’t predict a screaming pod after two

E242 was not a patient in a hospital bed. It was a pod. A sealed, humming cylinder of biosteel and nutrient gel, one of four hundred in the long-term cryogenic bay of the Odysseus , an ark ship fleeing a dead Earth. Morgan Fille had been twenty-three when she went under, a linguist with a passion for dead languages and a freckle on her left thumb. That was 247 years ago. It’s a trap

Morgan—or the thing wearing her—sat up. Gel dripped from her skin. She smiled, and it was the most human gesture Aris had ever seen. That’s what terrified him most.

Now, her pod was screaming.