Uncharted | JOHN-117

03

At that moment, the door to the lab hisses open and Halsey strides in. "Ready?"

Adun nods his head with a small, "Mm-hm."

Halsey looks over the clone with a critical eye, ensuring that all the equipment is calibrated correctly before moving to stand behind where the technology is primed and ready over her head.

Adun moves from the control panel, falling into place beside me. We both observe Halsey as she presses the ready button on the screen, sliding her finger in a circular motion to fully activate the procedure.

The machine hums to life, scanning the anatomy of the woman's face with precision. With a soft click, a slender needle emerges, poised at her eye. As I stand in my spot, my mind is screaming at me, howling into the abyss that what we're doing right now is utterly despicable.

I can't bear to watch the needle as it finds its mark. I turn my head away just in time with a wince, but it does little to ease the horror. The sound of her discomfort echoes in my ears, mingling with the beeping of the monitor, which only seems to grow more urgent by the second. As the cacophony reaches a crescendo, the rhythm of her heartbeat abruptly flatlines.

Dead.

The flat line persists, unyielding and relentless like a damning verdict. My fists clench as frustration and helplessness simmer within me.

"Turn it off, god damn it," I bark, my ire directed at Adun.

Adun jumps in his spot, but without hesitation, he strides over to the control panel. With a decisive flick of his wrist, the unnerving symphony comes to a grinding halt. Silence fills the room, until there's a subtle whizz. I can't help but look over in irritation, drawn to the source of the sound.

It's a mistake.

Below the neural substrate implant now displayed on the machine is the clones lifeless body. Crimson blood trickles from her nostrils and ears, forming a winding pathway of red. I can no longer deny the enormity of what we've done.

My mind races with chilling questions which send shivers down my spine. If this procedure with John and Cortana proves successful, how many more times will I be called upon to perform such acts? How many more clones will I watch be subjected to this fate, their lives sacrificed in the name of progress? I find myself imagining an endless row of clones, their faces etched with the same fear that I had seen reflected in the clone shortly before injecting her with a sedative.

Bystander.

Murderer.

The weight of my complicity presses down on my chest, suffocating me. Every fibre of my being screams to leave this lab, for solace from the guilt that threatens to consume me whole. With each second that passes, the haunting image of her dead body etches itself into my memory with a searing intensity.

I can't stay here for a moment longer.

I need to leave.

Now.

With trembling hands and a heavy heart, I turn away from the lifeless form, striding purposefully towards the exit.

Halsey's voice cuts through the tense air, her tone sharp. "And where exactly do you think you're going?"

As I turn to face my mother, the floodgates of the emotions I've been struggling to contain fully burst open, washing over me with such an intensity that leaves me raw and vulnerable.

"You know damn well I wasn't comfortable with this project. That's why Adun was your understudy. Not me." I jab my index finger in his direction, allowing the anger, frustration and guilt to sweep me up. "Yet, you still forced me to be here today. You forced me to be apart ofthis."