Hart wasn't thrilled with the glowing guy's talk about trips and seeing stuff. To him, trips meant hitting the road with his step-father Liam and eating gas station junk food, not being stuck in some alien body in a place called zatheria. And as for seeing things? He'd seen plenty already. He'd seen a body that wasn't his, a room with blue goo pods, and some dude who looked like a walking light. What he really wanted was to see his own face in his own bathroom mirror.
As the glowing figure who didn't even bother to say who he was turned to float toward a shiny doorway that appeared out of nowhere. Hart saw his chance to get away. They were too busy trying to be all wise and glowy to think a Seed would just run. So he did. His new legs were fast, even though he'd been clumsy before. The shiny floor was slick, and he almost slipped as he ran around a huge, crystal pillar. He looked back real quick. The glowing dude had stopped and tilted his head, seeming a little surprised, like a parent catching a kid stealing cookies.
"Kai'len-7," he said, sounding a bit bummed out. "This isn't right."
"The only right way is the one that takes me back to Earth!" Hart shouted, his voice bouncing all over the big room.
He ran back down the corridor, trying to find his way back to the cryo-chamber room. Maybe he could find another blasted Sphere and find another way to get out of here. But this time, the corridor felt super long, and the humming of the walls seemed to be mocking him. When he got to the chamber, he was breathing hard.
The cryo-chambers were still lined up against the walls, unresponsive with tubes in their mouths ingesting whatever is being fed to them, the thought that this body he's in was one of them, makes bile rear up in him. He looked all over the room, his eyes jumping from thing to thing, but everything was just impossible to understand technology. No shiny ball. Just more blue goo coffins. Great. Panic started to build again, hot and suffocating. He was stuck. Really stuck.
Then, the shimmering panel he came through slid shut with a soft whoosh. He hammered on it with his alien fists, but it stayed sealed tight. Let me out! he yelled, his voice cracking. I want to go home! A part of the wall shimmered, and two figures appeared, not as bright as the first one, but still glowing faintly their robes flowed, and their faces showed nothing. They didn't seem mad, just tired. Like they always handled Seeds that didn't want to listen.
"Kai'len-7", one said, its voice a softer copy of the first. What you're doing isn't helping."
"Helping what?" Hart shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your little interdimensional get-together? I want to leave!"
They didn't answer but moved toward him with scary smoothness. Hart stepped back, fear growing in his gut. He didn't know what they could do, but their calmness was scarier than shouting.
He tried to slip by, but they were way faster than they looked. Before he could react, they grabbed his arms with hands that were strong but surprisingly gentle. He fought back, his alien muscles putting up a good fight, but they were stronger.
"Let go!" he yelled, kicking with his legs. They didn't hurt him, just held on tight. They steered him back to the corridor, ignoring his shouting. He got dragged through the shimmering archway and back into the big, domed room.
The first glowing figure was waiting, still looking a little bummed. "Kai'len-7," it said, its voice sounding like the end of the line. "Since you won't cooperate, we need to temporarily recalibrate you."
Recalibration? That didn't sound good. The two figures holding him led him towards another shimmering archway, one he hadn't noticed before. It pulsed with a faint, blue light. He tried to resist, digging his heels into the starlight floor, but their grip was too strong. He was pulled through the archway, and the world dissolved again, this time into a dizzying swirl of colors and sensations that made his stomach churn.
When it settled, he found himself in a small, circular room. The walls were smooth and featureless, made of the same obsidian-like material as the Sphere. There were no windows, no visible doors, just a soft, pervasive light emanating from the walls themselves. In the center of the room was a platform, and nothing else.
He was alone. He tried the walls, pushing against them, but they were solid and unyielding. He yelled, his voice echoing in the small space, but no one answered. He was trapped. A section of the wall shimmered, and the first luminous figure appeared, its form radiating a gentle light that did little to soothe Hart's frayed nerves.
"Kai'len-7," it said, its voice softer now, almost apologetic. "This is a temporary holding cell. It is for your own benefit, and for the stability of the Convergence preparations."
"My own benefit?" Hart scoffed; his voice laced with bitter sarcasm. "How is being locked in a glorified closet for my own benefit? I want to go home!"
"Your resistance creates disharmony, we don't want the others to act the same. It will push our hand into doing worse." the figure explained patiently, like it was explaining something to a particularly dense child.
There are others? Of course, whatever they're planning it needs to be of a massive scale. He sighs, and glared at the unwelcome figure, trying to calm him down.
"We require your cooperation, Kai'len-7. You were chosen for a reason."
"What happened to my human rights? I didn't choose anything!" Hart yelled, his frustration reaching a boiling point. "I was minding my own business in my grandpa's basement! You dragged me here! And now you're telling me it's for my own good that I'm locked up? That's rich."
The figure remained impassive. "You will be released when you are ready to cooperate. When you understand the importance of the Great Confluence and your role within it."
"My role is to be back on Earth, eating pizza and arguing with my mom about video game time!" Hart retorted, pacing the small cell. "That's my role! Not whatever this cosmic mumbo jumbo is! I'm stuck in a nightmare."
"Consider this time for reflection, Kai'len-7," the figure said, its light seeming to dim slightly. "We hope you will come to see the wisdom of our path."
With that, the figure shimmered and disappeared, leaving Hart alone in the silent cell. He sank onto the platform, his head in his hands. Reflection? All he could reflect on was how much he missed his old life. He missed the smell of rain on asphalt, the feel of his worn-out sneakers, the sound of Liam's ridiculous laugh. He missed the simple, ordinary normalcy of it all. He tried the walls again, kicking them in frustration. They remained stubbornly solid. He yelled until his throat was raw, but no one came.
He was alone, trapped, and all because he didn't want to play along with their ridiculous game. Days blurred into a monotonous cycle of confinement. He had no concept of time here. The light in the walls remained constant, offering no indication of day or night. He ate the bland, nutrient-rich paste that materialized on the platform at irregular intervals, his appetite dwindling with each passing cycle.
His thoughts were a constant loop of longing for home, interspersed with bursts of anger and resentment towards his captors. He replayed memories of his life on Earth, clinging to them like a lifeline in this alien world. He remembered his grandpa's stories, his mom's comforting hugs, the thrill of finally beating that impossible level in his favourite game.
Sometimes, the luminous figure would reappear, its serene presence a constant reminder of his predicament. It would ask if he was ready to cooperate, and each time, Hart's answer was a defiant, "No! I want to go home!"
With each refusal, the figure's light seemed to dim a little more, its patience wearing thin. Hart didn't care. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of breaking him. He wouldn't pretend to care about their Confluence or their destiny. His only destiny was to get back to his own life. One cycle, as he sat on the platform, staring at the smooth, featureless walls, a new emotion began to simmer beneath the surface of his anger and despair: a cold, hard determination. They wanted him to cooperate. Fine. He would cooperate. But not in the way they expected. He would cooperate just enough to find a way out. He would play their game, learn their rules, and then he would use it all against them.
He would get back home, even if it was the last thing he did. The Seed might be resisting the bloom, but a different kind of seed was taking root within him now: the seed of rebellion. And it was starting to sprout. He just needed an opportunity, a crack in their perfect, glowing facade. And he would be ready.