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The Caelum Research Center wasn’t just abandoned—it was forgotten. Like even the wind and dust wanted nothing to do with it anymore. It didn’t just stand in the middle of nowhere, it lingered, a scar on the earth, a monument to a mistake too big to bury but too shameful to remember. It was the kind of place that made even the silence feel heavy, like the world itself was holding its breath, hoping no one would ever come back to stir up the ghosts.

The building loomed ahead, a concrete monolith cracked and crumbling under the weight of its own sins. Vines snaked up its sides like nature was trying to strangle it out of existence, eager to erase the last evidence of human arrogance. Windows shattered into jagged teeth, staring out like hollow eyes. Doors hung off rusted hinges like broken limbs barely clinging to their sockets. The Caelum logo, once polished and proud, was now a ghost of letters—barely legible beneath layers of grime, dust, and the slow decay of corporate hubris turned to rot.

"Well, here we are," I muttered, stepping out of the car and slinging my rifle over my shoulder. The wind tugged at my coat, cold fingers pulling me back like it knew better. "Home of the miracle that killed the world."

"How poetic," Her voice chimed in, her tone as dry as desert bones. "Shall I prepare a eulogy while you search for the remnants of human hubris? Or would you prefer a funeral march? Perhaps something in a minor key?"

"Just keep an ear out," I sighed, pushing open what was left of the front entrance. The door groaned like it resented being disturbed, like even the building wanted to stay dead.

The inside was worse. Darkness swallowed most of the hallways, only broken by the erratic flicker of dying emergency lights—somehow still clinging to life after all this time, as if refusing to admit defeat. Papers littered the floor like snowdrifts of forgotten ambition and broken promises. Broken glass crunched underfoot with every step, a reminder that something here had shattered long before I arrived. The air was thick with mildew, rust, and something else—something sharp and metallic, like the ghost of blood spilled in the name of progress.

I moved through the halls, every footstep echoing too loud, bouncing off the walls like accusations. Most rooms were gutted—servers smashed beyond recognition, desks overturned as if people had fled in panic, or worse, never made it out. I passed lab coats crumpled on the floor, stained with time, dirt, and things I didn’t want to imagine. It smelled like fear that had been left to ferment.

It felt like walking through a mausoleum built for ideas, grand dreams that had rotted into nightmares.

But eventually, I found it.

A lab. Mostly intact. Dust coated everything in a thick, suffocating layer, but the equipment was still here—monitors dark and lifeless, except for one computer in the center that flickered faintly, humming with stubborn defiance.

"Jackpot," I whispered, pulling out the chair and sitting down. My fingers hovered over the keyboard like I was afraid it would bite back, or worse, answer questions I didn’t want to ask. I tapped a few keys, half-expecting it to die on me out of spite.

It didn’t. Obviously. Maybe I wanted it to explode or something, so I’d give up and go back home. But, despite my fears, I press on. "Hey, I need you to handle this. Think you can pull whatever’s useful?"

"Of course." she replied smoothly, like I’d just asked her to fetch the mail. I plug my phone in to the computer, feeling a little déjà vu as I do it. "I should warn you, the encryption is... dense. Caelum's paranoia is impressive, even by corporate standards. This will take... considerable time."

"How long is considerable?" I asked, already bracing for disappointment.

"Weeks. Perhaps months. Assuming you don’t die of boredom first, or madness. Both seem equally likely."

I leaned back, staring at the ceiling stained with water damage, spiderwebs, and the weight of every bad decision ever made under this roof.

"Great."

So I set up camp. What else was I going to do? The world outside was empty, and this place, this tomb, was as good a prison as any. Better, maybe. At least the walls here didn’t pretend to offer hope.

Days bled into each other, colorless and slow. I raided vending machines for stale snacks with expiration dates that didn’t matter anymore. Found a storage room with emergency rations that tasted like regret but kept me alive. Fixed up a broken generator I found buried in the basement to keep the lights running, because sitting in the dark felt too much like surrender.

The hum of electricity became my only heartbeat. Her occasional sarcasm, the only proof I hadn’t gone completely deaf to the world.

I talked to Her more than I should have, about nothing, about everything, about things I’d forgotten mattered. Just to hear a voice that wasn’t my own echoing off these hollow walls. Sometimes she replied with sharp wit, sometimes with silence heavy enough to crush me.

I counted cracks in the ceiling until I saw patterns that weren’t there. Memorized every groan and creak the building made when the wind pushed against it, pretending it could still collapse and put me out of my misery. I read old research notes I found scattered around, half written in jargon designed to confuse, the other half clear enough to make me wish I couldn’t understand.

I dreamed of Seraphin—of what it showed people, of what it hid, and of the fools who thought they could control it.

By the second month, I stopped bothering to track the days. Time didn’t live here anymore. I wasn’t living. I was waiting. Waiting for answers. Waiting for the inevitable.

And then, somewhere between wondering if the shadows in the corner were moving and deciding whether I cared—

"Decryption complete."

Her voice cut through the fog in my brain like a scalpel. I jolted upright, heart racing like it had remembered how.

"You got it?"

"I have a location," she confirmed, as calm as if we hadn’t been marinating in decay for months. "The scientist’s personal residence. Remote. Mountainous. Exactly the kind of place someone who doomed humanity would crawl to when the consequences arrived. Coordinates uploaded to your map."

I didn’t waste time. My body screamed in protest after months of neglect, but adrenaline dragged me forward. I packed what little I had, shut down the generator, and took one last look at the lab—the birthplace of the end, and my unwilling sanctuary.

As I stepped outside, the sunlight felt like an interrogation lamp. The wind colder, sharper. Or maybe it wasn’t the world that had changed.

I glanced at my watch.

Three months.

It had been three months since I walked through those doors. Three months since I’d spoken to another living soul. Since I’d remembered what it felt like to move because I wanted to—not because I had to.

"Let’s finish this," I muttered, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

Her voice crackled in my ear, steady as ever. Steady enough to remind me that nothing else was.

"Onward to disappointment, Gabe. As always."

I couldn’t tell if she was joking.

I wasn’t sure it mattered.