The Incident

Dr. Eleanor Finch's Daily Record

Date: October 20, 2037

Location: Project Epsilon, Facility Depth 6

Something happened last night. I wasn't on shift, but I received a call at two in the morning to come in. A breach alarm had gone off, and no one knew the exact details yet. When I arrived, the security staff wouldn't speak directly to me, only murmuring to each other in tense, hushed tones. They led me down to Depth 6 without explanation, a strange, frantic energy thickening the air with each floor.

As I approached Cell 14, I felt the oddest sensation — like a buzzing just below the skin, a kind of vibration I'd never experienced before. It only intensified as I neared Harlan's cell.

"Subject 14 — he… he did something," a security guard mumbled as we walked. He didn't meet my eyes, and the shadows under his looked deep. "We're not even sure how yet."

"Did something?" I asked, and the guard's eyes flickered nervously.

"You'll see."

---

When I reached Harlan's cell, the door was open, an unusual sight in itself. Two armed guards stood at the doorway, both visibly shaken, their hands hovering over their weapons. They looked more like they were preparing for a firefight than standing watch over a nine-year-old boy. I stepped inside, and what I saw made my breath hitch.

Harlan was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his back against the wall, his gaze distant, almost serene. But around him… everything else was in disarray. The walls, reinforced to withstand even seismic shifts, were visibly warped, bending inwards as though subjected to an incomprehensible force. The ceiling tiles were cracked, dangling at odd angles. Most alarmingly, the entire room seemed to bear the imprint of a tremendous weight, like the hand of a giant had pressed down, reshaping the very architecture of the cell.

On the ground before Harlan lay three of our own — two guards and one scientist, Dr. Kepler. They were unconscious, yet their bodies had no marks, no bruises. Just lying there, as though sleep had overtaken them. Harlan looked up at me as I entered, his expression unperturbed, his dark eyes clear and focused.

"What happened?" I murmured, more to myself than to him, as I crouched beside Dr. Kepler, checking for a pulse. It was strong, steady, but he was unresponsive, as if he'd simply shut down.

The silence was unnerving, broken only by the shallow breathing of the unconscious bodies.

"Harlan," I whispered, looking up at him. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening, and I could see the faintest shadow of concern there. Then he raised his hand, pointing to the corner of the room, where a dull metallic glint caught my eye.

It was a small, silver device, wedged into the ceiling panel, almost invisible against the stark whiteness of the walls. I recognized it immediately — a neural dampener, an experimental piece of equipment designed to inhibit the brain's ability to focus, disrupt thought patterns. We use them on Depth 6 as a last resort for containment, should a subject's powers go out of control.

But this dampener wasn't part of Harlan's standard cell setup. Someone had placed it there without logging it in the official records. Its purpose was clear: to hinder his mental concentration, weaken his control. Anger surged within me as I realized what had happened.

"They wanted to test your limits," I whispered, my hands tightening. "To see what would happen if they forced your abilities out of your control."

Harlan didn't respond. He didn't need to. The quiet comprehension in his gaze told me he understood everything. He had likely felt the dampener's interference, sensed the danger, and reacted instinctively.

"Dr. Finch." A sharp voice broke through the silence. Dr. Brenner stood at the doorway, his face pale but resolute. "I need you to step outside."

My chest tightened as I glanced at him. "Dr. Brenner, there was an unauthorized neural dampener in his cell. You know what that means — he was provoked, forced to defend himself. This isn't—"

"That's enough, Dr. Finch," he snapped. "This is beyond your jurisdiction. You are to leave now and let the security team handle this."

"But he's just a child!" My voice was sharper than I intended, echoing in the warped room. Harlan's eyes flicked between Brenner and me, a flicker of understanding and perhaps something akin to gratitude in his gaze. Brenner's face tightened, the thin veneer of patience slipping away.

"This isn't up for debate," he said icily, stepping forward. "Subject 14 has clearly demonstrated a volatile reaction. We need to assess if he is becoming a threat to the facility."

"Becoming a threat?" I laughed, a bitter, frustrated sound. "You pushed him. You tampered with his cell without notifying anyone. This—this wasn't his fault."

Brenner's jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might respond, but he simply turned to the guards. "Escort Dr. Finch out of this level."

The guards hesitated, looking between Brenner and me. I glanced back at Harlan, feeling a rush of guilt and helplessness. He watched me with an unsettling calm, his small form dwarfed by the chaos around him, yet somehow more powerful than all of us.

As the guards took my arms, I leaned down to him one last time. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

But Harlan only looked at me, his eyes steady, unwavering. There was no fear in him, no blame. Only understanding. And that, more than anything, haunted me as the guards led me from the room.

---

Personal Notes (Encrypted):

It's been hours since the incident, and I can't shake the image of Harlan's face, calm and resolute even as everything around him crumbled. This wasn't a case of uncontrolled power or a dangerous ability spiraling out of control. This was a child defending himself. He knew exactly what was happening, and he acted in self-preservation — not out of malice, but out of necessity.

I've heard whispers among the staff about containment protocols, about relocating Harlan to a deeper, more isolated level. They talk as though he's an uncontrollable force, a threat to be locked away. But I know that's not the case. He has more control, more awareness, than anyone realizes.

And the most troubling part? I can't shake the feeling that Brenner wanted this to happen. That he orchestrated this entire incident to justify further experimentation, to push Harlan into revealing new aspects of his power.

I don't know what to do. My instincts are screaming that this is wrong, that we're not dealing with just a "subject" or a "test case." This is a child with an intelligence and a power we can barely comprehend. And I fear that if they keep pushing him, we'll find out what he's truly capable of — in ways we can't undo.

The guards are monitoring me closely now, and I suspect my access to Harlan will be restricted after today. But I can't let this go. Harlan needs someone to protect him. And if I have to risk my career, even my safety, to expose what's really going on here, so be it.

I have a plan. Tomorrow, I'll make my move. I can only hope Harlan knows that I'm on his side — and that he'll trust me when the time comes.