Zerahk_Williams

In a future where time is currency and the poor sell years of their lives just to survive, Elian Voss is nearly out of time—literally. With only a few years left on his lifespan, the weary technician stumbles upon a mysterious device that could unravel the system stealing futures from billions. Hunted by enforcers and haunted by visions of fragmented futures, Elian joins a resistance cell determined to take down the Time Credit System and expose the truth behind the Vault—a secret facility where stolen time is hoarded by the elite.

But every use of the device accelerates Elian’s own countdown. As the city teeters on the brink of collapse, he must decide: die quietly, or give up what little time he has left to rewrite humanity’s tomorrow.

Fragments of Tomorrow is a high-stakes sci-fi thriller about sacrifice, inequality, and the true cost of a life well-lived.

The Continuum Protocol

System Integrity: 3%

Containment Status: Breached

Echo Stability: Decentralizing

The Vault's inner walls flickered like old film stock—scenes from lives long buried bleeding into each other, playing over shattered consoles and the cracked containment glass.

A soldier knelt, whispering a forgotten prayer in another.

None of it was real—and all of it was true.

Elian stumbled over a support beam as the Core trembled again. Kaia had one arm under Seren's shoulders, dragging her toward the emergency lift tunnel now pried open by the echo surge.

"She's losing blood," Kaia said, her voice tight. "And the shock—"

"She's breathing," Elian said. "That's enough. We get her out. We get clear."

The Vault around them was distorting, walls warping into looping corridors, recursive architecture collapsing in on itself. Not just a system crash—

A cognitive implosion.

The simulations—once segmented, tidy loops—were flooding into shared consciousness.

It was no longer a prison of individuals.

It was becoming a hive.

Layered. Threaded. Male. Female. Human. Nonhuman.

Kaia spun. "The Vault's broadcasting?"

"No," Elian said. His throat was dry. "It's waking up."

Another pulse surged from the Core. The echo of Aelia—no longer whole, no longer her, but still luminous—stood inside it, arms outstretched, body fragmenting into light and code.

A path opened through the debris—hallways realigning just long enough to make an exit.

But the walls whispered as they passed:

"We were possible people."

By the time they reached the upper level, Kaia's legs were shaking and Seren was barely conscious. Elian overrode the manual hatch and forced it open.

Behind them, Coldroot collapsed inward.

An implosion of identity.

A singularity of memory, folding forever into itself.

Outside, the snow was falling again.

Kaia let Seren down gently beside the perimeter beacon. She keyed the distress flare. A pulse shot skyward.

They didn't speak for a long time.

Then Kaia said, "You know Lorne's not dead."

"He'll come back. With something worse."

Elian nodded. "Then we'll be ready."

They both looked back at the remains of Coldroot—nothing but frost-covered ruins now, pulsing faintly beneath the snow.

Kaia whispered, "Do you think... she knew what would happen?"

But in the stillness, he heard the Vault's last whisper—his mother's voice, not simulated, not scripted.

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