Time... (REMASTERED)

~ Monday – 7:28 AM – Vance Industries, 3rd person Pov ~

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He hadn't noticed how steady his breathing was until he paid attention to it.

The usual morning sluggishness never came. There was no dragging himself from one task to the next, no micro-adjustments to shake off the ache of a bad night's sleep. His body moved like it knew what it was doing before his mind had the chance to dictate.

A slight shift in balance as he stepped off the elevator. The bag on his shoulder felt lighter, the strap pressing evenly instead of digging in. His posture, normally weighed down by years of slouching at a desk, sat upright without a second thought.

He barely registered the glass-lined halls of Vance Industries as he walked through them. The muted chatter of employees, the quiet hum of machinery behind sealed doors—background noise. It was all background noise.

Then, something flickered at the edges of his vision.

His reflection...

He stopped.

It was subtle, but it was there.

The man in the glass looked like him—same face, same features. But the details were slightly, off.

A little thinner. A little less bloated.

He had always looked vaguely tired, like someone running on half-charged batteries. But now? His skin didn't have that faint dullness anymore to it, not anymore... His jawline looked a little more defined, his eyes a bit clearer. It wasn't a drastic change.

But it was enough that if someone knew him well, they'd notice.

His stomach twisted.

He kept walking.

It took all of three steps into the department before—"Okay, stop right there."

Ryan's voice.

The words hit him before he even turned the corner... He was already being studied.

Ryan Carter strode up, eyes narrowing, scanning him in the way someone might analyze a security flaw—like he was running a mental diagnostic, comparing notes.

"What?" Ethan blinked, forcing a neutral expression.

Ryan didn't answer right away. He tilted his head, squinting, lips pressing together slightly.

"Nah, man." A pause. "Something's off."

A cold weight settled in his stomach.

"Off, how exactly?"

Ryan exhaled sharply, crossing his arms. His gaze flicked over him—up, down, cross-referencing some internal 'Ryan Carter Database' of how he should look, move, act.

"You look… different."

His fingers curled slightly at his sides.

"Different how?" His voice was steady, measured.

Ryan didn't answer right away. He just shook his head, exasperated.

"I dunno, man. It's just... A little, weird. You look the same, but ya' don't."

Ethan forced a small laugh, and shrugged.

"Maybe I just got a good night's sleep."

Ryan let out a sharp bark of laughter.

"You? Sleeping well? That'd be a first."

"Guess I've been taking better care of myself."

Ryan's gaze didn't waver. If anything, he seemed even more skeptical.

"Alright. Spill. What have you been doing?"

He hesitated, then chose the safest answer.

"Same thing as last week. Studying, working out, practicing."

Ryan just stared.

"And that's it?"

"Pretty much."

The silence stretched for half a beat too long.

Then—Ryan let out a low whistle, shaking his head.

"Man, I don't know what the hell is happening to you, but you feel different. Like, I can sense the Ethan Vaughn Screw-Up Energy is fading."

Ethan deadpanned.

"Wow. Thanks."

Ryan smirked, but his expression didn't fully relax.

"I mean it, dude." He gestured vaguely. "You're carrying yourself different. Standing taller. Moving different. Even your face looks a little… I dunno, more... Pronounced?"

His pulse ticked up, but his expression remained carefully neutral.

"I think you're just overanalyzing."

Ryan hummed, unconvinced. Then his expression shifted—suspicion melting into something lighter, amused.

"Hold up…" His voice dropped a fraction. "You're not on roids, are you?"

A dry laugh stuck in his throat.

"What?! No!"

Ryan snorted.

"I'm just saying, man! One week, and you're already looking like a different person? It's suspicious as hell!"

"Jeez, Ryan." He scrubbed a hand down his face.

Ryan grinned, holding up his hands.

"Alright, alright, fine." A pause. His gaze flickered again, sharp but not accusing. "But still, man… I dunno. Something's up with you."

It wasn't a joke anymore.

It wasn't outright suspicion, either.

But there was something in Ryan's voice—something weighty. He was watching too closely, reading too much.

He needed to change the subject.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask—"

Ryan cut him off immediately.

"Nah, don't think I didn't notice you trying to redirect the conversation."

Damn it.

Ryan squinted, pretending to scrutinize him.

"Look, I'm just saying, if you're becoming some superhuman overnight, I'd like a heads-up." A smirk. "You're not gonna, like, become a secret agent or something, right?"

He let out a weak chuckle.

"No. No secret agent stuff."

Ryan's eyes narrowed playfully.

"Hmmm. That's exactly what a secret agent would say."

He groaned.

"Ryan, I'm telling—"

"Alright, alright~" Ryan cut him off, grinning. "Whatever. Just… don't get too cool for me, alright? I liked it better when you needed me to do all your work."

Ethan rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it. I'm still probably gonna slack off sometimes."

Ryan smiled.

"Atta boy."

Ryan gave him a clap on the back. A final glance before eventually wandering off.

Ethan let out a slow, tired breath.

'That was close... Too close.'

Ryan wasn't dumb. He noticed things other people wouldn't. And if he was already seeing changes after only a week?

How long before everyone else did?

Either way, Ethan didn't let it bother him too much. It's just him grooming himself, to him... How bad could the changes even get?

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~ Ethan's Pov, Monday – 7:46 AM ~

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I slowly made my way to my desk, trying to shake off the conversation with Ryan. But his words lingered on me more than I cared to really admit, it's like their clinging to the edges of my mind like static I couldn't quite tune out either...

'You're carrying yourself different.'

'Even your face looks a little… pronounced?'

I hadn't wanted to admit it, but he was right. Something was different.

I dropped my bag onto my desk, exhaling slowly. The weight of the morning settled on my shoulders, heavier than usual. My fingers drummed absently against the edge of my desk as I stared at the monitor in front of me.

Vance Industries wasn't some tech start-up or a casual nine-to-five. It was a machine—an intricate, high-functioning system designed to keep the world running smoothly in ways most people never thought about. Defense contracts, AI development, experimental biomechanics—you name it, Vance had a hand in it.

And I?

I was just an analyst. A glorified data grunt, buried under the spreadsheets graveyard, research reports, and the old system logs.

Or at least, that's what I had been.

I clicked into my latest assignment, letting the numbers and charts fill the screen. Normally, I'd spend an hour just deciphering half of this. But today?

My eyes scanned the data, and something just clicked. The patterns I was seeing and the connections I could make was weird, but it just worked...

'Heh... I guess those few days of research and studying is paying off in spades.'

There was this thread of logic I shouldn't have seen, revealing itself to me near effortlessly.

'Hmm...'

I sat up straighter, my fingers moving across the keyboard. Commands, the queries—things that should've required a lot more conscious effort—flowed out of me like it was second nature. 

I could feel my pulse quickening; I was surprised at how fast I was moving. I wasn't just understanding the data. I was actually anticipating aspects about it.

Like my mind had just leveled up without asking for permission.

I barely had time to process the realization before a new notification popped up at the top of my screen.

Incoming Message: Dr. Evelyn Kessler

I frowned.

'Kessler?'

That wasn't exactly, normal. Wasn't she our third division manager? What would she even want from some grunt like me?

I clicked it open, my stomach tightening while I read the subject line;

[We need to talk. Now.]

'Of course you do...'

Still, miss Kessler wasn't the kind of person who sent vague emails. Given from what I remembered from the rumors, she was very methodical, a precise kind of person. If she was reaching out like this—urgently, without much of any context—it meant something was likely wrong.

I moved the cursor over the message, hesitated, then clicked it...

Dr. Kessler:

[Come to Sublevel 3. Alone.]

I swallowed.

Yeah... That definitely wasn't normal.

Not only that; Sublevel 3 was practically off-limits to most employees... Not because it was secret—at least, not officially—but because the work done there was classified beyond what a mid-level analyst like me should ever have access to.

And yet…

My hand moved on its own, logging out of my system. The screen fading to black, my reflection flickering for just a second before vanishing. My face still looked the same...

Mostly.

I pushed back from my desk, keeping my movements measured. Ryan was still watching me from across the office, his fingers tapping absently against his coffee cup as he scrolled through his own data. I could feel his attention shifting back toward me—calculating, assessing even.

I didn't give him the chance to ask me anymore questions.

My chair scraped against the floor as I stood. I adjusted the strap of my bag over my shoulder, nodded vaguely at no one in particular, and walked out.

The elevator to Sublevel 3 required biometric access. I didn't have it.

But my body did.

ACCESS GRANTED.

The moment I stepped inside, the scanner flickered green. Neat I guess?

'Not that interesting at all, right?' I swallowed again. I was Kind of spooked by the place, not going to lie about it.

The doors slid shut behind me. With that, my little descent began.

I didn't even know what I was even walking into. I just hoped it isn't anything bad...

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Like they say... Dr. Kessler didn't waste time. The moment I stepped into the room, she gestured toward a chair near the wall. "Take a seat."

I did as I was told, adjusting the strap of my bag as I settled in. The lab was quiet, the hum of distant machinery the only real background noise.

Kessler stood in front of me, arms crossed—not in frustration, just in thought. After a moment, she exhaled and said, "Most people around here know me for my research. High-level projects, biomechanics, all that." She tilted her head slightly. "What they don't know is that I also monitor performance analytics for employees like you."

That caught me off guard.

"A-Analysts?" I asked.

Kessler just nodded at me; "Vance Industries invests a lot in, talent... We track our worker's progress, watch for any trends that may appear. Most of it is automated of course; but from time-to-time, I do my own personal evaluations when catching something stands out."

She adjusted her glasses, then looked at me directly...

"On that topic... You've been improving a lot as of late."

I kept my expression neutral. "That a bad thing?"

"Not at all." she said. "In fact, it's why I even bothered to call you down here." She glanced at her tablet, scrolling through something before continuing... "Based on the data I have. Your pattern recognition capabilities is getting much stronger. Additionally, your workflow has streamlined considerably as well. And from what I've gathered, you've been operating more efficiently than ever compared to the last few months..."

I sat up slightly, taking this all in and noting what I needed to. "Huh... Didn't realize I had much of an audience." I... said that without thinking much.

Yet, she showed the faintest smirk; that's, interesting...

"Well; It's my job to notice these things."

Well, thank goodness she didn't take that badly... She tapped something on her screen before locking it, and tucking the tablet under her arm. "I just wanted to say—keep up the great work. You're on the right track, and I hope you'll continue to improve in the future."

That was it?

No questioning. No suspicion. Just some recognition.

I'll play along for now and nod, "I appreciate it, thank you."

"Good." She motioned toward the door. "You're free to go now."

I stood, adjusting my bag again as I stepped past her. She didn't say anything else, just returned to whatever work she'd been doing before I arrived.

As the door slid shut behind me, I let out a slow breath.

That had been… unexpected.

Not bad even... Just slightly, unexpected.

Still, while I walked back toward the elevator, something about the whole thing lingered in the back of my mind.

If she'd be able to notice my improvements.

And if it's as detailed as she makes it out to, or implies it to be—Who else had, or can?

'You know what... Maybe I should dial it back a bit.'

But, she's right... I was getting better at coding; Heck, I think I'm starting to learn a little faster too, which is, weird. 

I'm so not used to all this... Anyway, it's time to get back to work. Maybe I'll check that art place south from here, it should help me get my mind off of all this.

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END