Page 108 of I Am Your Monster Now


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“—pressure stable. All systems nominal?—”

There’s a hitch in the audio. A warble. Then the voice smooths out again.

And underneath it,there.

That sound.

Soft. Persistent. Almost comforting.

My scalp prickles.

I clamp my jaw shut and force my breathing slow. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Count the seconds. Countanything.

Jillian. Jillian. Jillian.

I say my name in my head like it’s a rope I can cling to.

Outside the lab’s reinforced glass, I see it spreading.

Crew members greet the newcomers with warmth that borders on reverence. Hands linger too long on forearms. Smiles widen. Conversations trail off into shared silences where no one seems uncomfortable.

Within an hour, the hum is everywhere.

In the corridors. In the lifts. In the mess hall, where people eat without tasting, chew without blinking. Someone spills a tray and laughs—not embarrassed, not annoyed. Just…pleased.

Within two hours, half the station is infected.

No one calls it that, of course. They don’t call it anything.

They justwelcome.

I watch an IHC lieutenant escort Ciampa down the corridor, chatting animatedly. The lieutenant’s posture is perfect, uniform crisp—but his eyes have that same glassy sheen I’ve seen a hundred times now. The same absence of friction. Of doubt.

They pass my lab cell.

The lieutenant glances in at me and smiles.

My stomach drops.

He doesn’t look at me like a prisoner.

He looks at me like aproblem that will soon solve itself.

The pressure starts behind my eyes not long after.

At first, it’s subtle. A tightness. Like the early stages of a migraine. I shift in the chair, rolling my neck, trying to ease it. No luck.

The song is louder here.

Not louder in volume—clearer. Like the station amplifies it. Metal and circuitry carrying the vibration farther, cleaner, stripping away interference until the melody—if you can call it that—presses right up against my thoughts.

It’s not words.

It doesn’tsayanything.

Itsuggests.

Images drift through my mind uninvited. Warmth. Belonging. The relief of letting go. Of not having todecideanymore.