You ducked beneath Pandora’s humming coils, sliding into the narrow console bay. Heat radiated off the wires. Your fingers shook as you yanked one cable, then another.

 

The machine fought back. A sudden pulse of green light crawled up your arms, prickling your skin. It wasn’t electricity—it was rewriting you. Muscles flexed, bones shifted, your chest tightening with pressure that made you gasp.

 

“Get out of there!” Maya shouted, but it was too late. Pandora had already sampled your body.

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September 4, 2025
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