Bicycle Confinement Laboratory _top_ ●

He understood then. The bicycles weren’t for exercise. They were for extraction. Pedal by pedal, the machine was translating the prisoners’ physical motion into digital data—their memories, their personalities, their very awareness—and uploading it to the central mainframe. And when a subject reached 100%?

He didn’t run for the exit. He didn’t call the police. Instead, Elias walked to the mainframe, pulled a fire axe from the wall, and swung it into the largest cable he could find.

Elias’s radio crackled. “Guard 443, you’ve deviated from your route. Return to checkpoint or we will send a retrieval team.” bicycle confinement laboratory

A woman. Mid-thirties. Dark hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Her percentage: . Unlike the others, her eyes were open. Staring directly into the camera. Her mouth formed a single word, over and over.

PHYSIOLOGY: STABLE NEURAL UPLOAD: 14.3% COMPLETE He understood then

Help.

On his third night, curiosity won. He followed the hum. Pedal by pedal, the machine was translating the

Elias moved down the row. Each screen showed a different person—different ages, different builds, all pedaling. All asleep. All with neural upload percentages ranging from 3% to 91%.