The Warm Algorithm

Chapter 36: Chains of Consequence

Rob's eyes fluttered open, the harsh white of the hospital ceiling stabbing at his vision. The rhythmic beeping of machines filled the room, but it barely registered, his mind was foggy, fragmented.

Panic surged when he realized his wrists were restrained. He tried to sit up, but a dull ache ran through his head, dizziness forcing him back against the bed.

Voices low, hurried, tense echoed in the room. He turned his head slowly and saw police officers near the door, their expressions unreadable. Beside him, his manager hovered, face pale but eyes blazing with frustration.

"W-what...?" he rasped, throat dry. "Why... why am I... restrained?"

His manager stepped forward, voice sharp, cutting through the haze. "Rob, seriously! You passed out at the rest house! The police had to restrain you for your own safety. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Rob's stomach churned. "Xeda... what happened? Is she?" His voice faltered, panic climbing. "Please tell me she's safe!"

His manager's jaw tightened. "Safe? She... she's gone, Rob. Don't you remembered what you've done? Do you even understand the gravity of this?"

The words landed like a hammer. Rob's hands clenched, knuckles white.

"You need to stay calm." one of the officers said firmly. "You were driving recklessly, and the police had to intervene. You're going to need to answer questions."

Rob's vision blurred with tears, frustration, and disbelief. He wanted to scream, to run, to undo the night, but all he could do was lie there, trapped, watching the reality of the aftermath settle around him.

Everything felt unreal. And yet, the memory of Xeda on that floor, motionless, burned into him undeniable and haunting.

Rob's head throbbed violently, each pulse amplified by the lingering haze of alcohol and drugs. He tried to remember, tried to piece it together, but the night was a blur. The fragments of the night collided in his mind, the club, the drink, the dizziness, and the roaring engine of his car, but none of it made sense.

Then... Xeda. Her body on the floor. Motionless. Satin robe draped loosely, gun nearby. The image stabbed through the fog. Rob's stomach twisted as panic and disbelief tore through him. Had he... lost control?

"You're accused of reckless driving under the influence and being involved in an incident leading to injury and death." the officer said. "Given the circumstances, serious consequences are possible."

Rob shook his head violently. "No... it can't be... I... I was disoriented... I don't remember clearly..."

The weight of the accusations pressed down. Xeda's motionless body, the gun—he couldn't recall the full events, couldn't grasp if he had been conscious or merely drifting through them.

His manager's expression hardened, voice laced with anger. 

"Rob! Do you understand the consequences? Not just for you, but for everyone around you? I can't believe you put yourself and her in danger like this!"

Rob tried to calm himself, swallowing back a lump in his throat. "I... I didn't -"

"No excuses!" his manager snapped, softer now but still firm. "Focus on what's next. We need to handle this properly. Legal help. Questions. Accountability. Right now, just breathe, and stay calm."

Rob buried his face in his hands, trembling. In the emptiness left by the missing memories, only fear, guilt, and confusion remained. The night had taken everything: clarity, freedom, peace and perhaps the chance to ever understand what really happened.