The Observation Deck of Oblivion

00:02:59 until next jump.

The elevator doors parted on a wind that tasted of static and burnt cinnamon. Cass stepped out first—and nearly walked into nothing.

Car 9 had no floor.

A single, circular platform—barely twenty meters across—floated in an endless starless void. Above, a transparent dome revealed the train itself corkscrewing through absolute dark, its couplers glowing like molten seams. Below, there was only the slow rotation of a colossal iris—black on black—blinking once every thirty seconds.

Whisper's crayon drawing fluttered as if the paper itself was trying to flee.

Jun knelt, fingertips brushing the platform. It felt like chilled glass, yet rippled like water. "Gravity vector pinned to platform center," he muttered. "Step off, you fall forever."

A console rose from the center, smooth obsidian, no labels. A single brass lever protruded:

PULL TO OBSERVE

PUSH TO OBLIVION

Cass's Core vibrated, but the message was fragmentary:

> OBSERVATION = COST UNKNOWN

Mara's breath clouded. "We have less than three minutes. What does 'observe' mean here?"

The dome brightened. Across the void, a holographic screen unfolded—ten meters tall, flickering with scenes that hurt to watch:

• London erased to white space.

• The Blood-Forge detonating, Cass impaled on a gear.

• Whisper aged ninety years in a single heartbeat, still clutching her crayon.

• Jun pressing the lever the wrong way, body unraveling into black thread.

Each vision carried a timestamp in crimson: T+00:02:47, T+00:02:46, counting down in perfect sync with the ceiling timer above their heads.

Whisper tugged Cass's sleeve and pointed to the hologram. One pane remained blank—waiting to be filled.

A voice—neither male nor female—spoke from every direction at once:

> "One truth, one lie. Choose the frame you will inhabit. The unchosen shall become the void."

Cass felt the weight of the brass lever under his palm. Pull or push. Observe and maybe survive, or erase and maybe spare the others. Two minutes. Decision.

Jun stepped forward. "Let me. I've already lost decades to that casino."

Mara blocked him. "And I've already seen my own corpse. We all pay differently."

The platform shuddered. A hairline crack spidered outward from the lever's base. Outside the dome, the train's couplers began to flicker—phasing sequence initiating early.

00:01:58.

Cass knelt beside Whisper. "What do you see?"

She held up her drawing. The page had changed again: the lever now split into two ghostly versions—one pulled, one pushed—each ending in a different silhouette of Cass. The pushed silhouette was blank, featureless. The pulled silhouette held a single, burning eye.

He understood. Observation required a witness. Oblivion required none.

He stood. "I'll pull. If it costs me, you three keep moving. No arguments."

Jun opened his mouth, but the crack beneath their feet widened with a brittle snap. The platform listed five degrees. Gravity wavered; Whisper's shoes lifted an inch.

Cass gripped the lever. Cold seared his palm like dry ice. He pulled.

The void screamed— a sound below hearing that vibrated bone. The hologram collapsed into a single frame: Cass standing on this exact platform, eyes glowing with the same burning iris from Whisper's drawing. The image stepped out of the screen and merged into him. A lance of white-hot data bored through his skull.

Visions flooded:

• The Prime Engine— a heart of liquid midnight— beating slower each day.

• A second Cass, aged beyond recognition, screaming at a younger version to "pull the lever earlier."

• The Auditor mask re-forming, not on a face but around the train itself, tightening like a noose.

The burning eye settled behind his left socket. He felt it click into place— a new organ grafted by pure information.

The dome darkened. Words etched themselves across the glass in reverse, meant to be read from outside:

> OBSERVER DESIGNATE: CASS CALDER

DEBT: 1 FUTURE SELF

PAYABLE BEFORE CAR 0.

The lever snapped off in his hand, liquefying into mercury that soaked into his skin. Beneath his feet, the crack sealed. Gravity stabilized.

00:00:47.

A door irised open on the far side of the platform— a simple hatch labeled CAR 10. Beyond it: a spiral staircase descending into warm amber light.

Jun helped Mara up. Whisper took Cass's free hand. He noticed, dimly, that his left eye now reflected everything a half-second before it happened— Jun's next blink, Mara's next breath, the exact angle Whisper would tilt her head.

He blinked, and the half-second vanished. Normal sight returned, but the afterimage of possibilities lingered like burn-in on a screen.

They crossed the platform. As Cass stepped through the hatch, the iris below blinked once—slow, deliberate—then closed forever.

The timer hit zero.

The train phased.