Somewhere in the 22th Century

“What happened? You’re going to tell us everything!”

The voice cracked like a whip, tearing through the silence. The bare room reeked of mildew and burnt oil. Somewhere, droplets fell, rhythmic, like a deranged heartbeat.

A harsh lamp, hanging above, cast a narrow halo too feeble to pierce the shadows. These shadows, denser than they should have been, huddled in the corners, inhabited by indistinct silhouettes.

There were three of them. Two imposing figures, broad-shouldered, swaying, almost blurred… and between them, a more graceful silhouette. Almost motionless. Dressed in a pristine white suit with a strict cut. A clinical gleam that seemed to absorb the slightest speck of dust around her.

Her face, half hidden by the cone of light, revealed a fine chin, a hairline pulled tightly back. She did not move. She observed.

The man, bound to a chair, his wrists clamped in metal too icy to be ordinary, remained still. His ribs protruded beneath a shirt damp with sweat. At times, a dull hum seemed to rise from the floor—or resonate in his head. The male voices still thundered.

“Answer! What were you doing there?”
“Who sent you? Who’s behind you?”

He could barely distinguish their features, but he knew they couldn’t see his either. His eyes gleamed like extinguished embers.

“I’ve already told you. Three times, I think…”

Then, the woman inclined her head. Just that tiny movement, and the light quivered. Her voice sliced through the air, bare of all emotion:

“Begin again!”

Dave felt the bite of his restraints, but even more so the sting of that hidden gaze. His answer weighed heavier than all that metal. He inhaled, and his rasping voice drifted like a breath cut short:

“It all goes back so long ago… long before this 22nd century.”