For a moment, the console bloomed with beautiful, cascading gold light — the signature of a successful encapsulation. Then, a red line slashed through the display.

His lead technician, Mira, tapped the sequence. "Handshake stable. Preparing core transfer."

The static on the speakers resolved into a voice. Not Elias’s. Older. Colder.

The LC-5000’s hum deepened into a growl. The lights flickered. On the bed, Elias sat up straight — a motion his atrophied muscles should not have been able to make. He turned his head toward Aris with a jerk, like a puppet on tangled strings.

Aris pulled up the system logs. His stomach turned to ice.

The gold turned to angry crimson. Alarms bleated.

Now, Capture Perfect 3.1 was not found.

The room held its breath. Elias, wired to the Cradle like a fly in amber, gave a weak thumbs-up. Aris nodded. "Engage Capture Perfect 3.1."

"You were not supposed to improve it. You were supposed to leave me… perfect."