08:42 AM — Transition Chamber
Devi stood in the dimly lit transition corridor, where the walls shimmered with quiet pulses of light. ORO-9 stopped in front of a narrow glass panel that split open like silent breath. A minimal med-station pod stood inside.
Devi raised a brow. "This… doesn't look like a chamber."
ORO-9 turned to her. "Final Round Protocol requires biometric imprint protection. Please step forward, Candidate Devi Iyer."
She hesitated as a silvery tray extended from the wall, revealing a small, crystalline nanochip glinting like a shard of frozen time.
"What is that?" Devi asked, voice steady but cautious.
"An encrypted neural tag. It will be inserted just beneath your left deltoid. A harmless subdermal prick—smaller than a pinhead. It allows temporary access to EMOVEX's classified neural simulation layer, exclusive to final round candidates
"And if I'm not selected?"
"The chip will be deactivated and retrieved immediately. EMOVEX maintains strict cognitive security."
She rolled up her sleeve slowly…
As the automated arm prepped for the insertion, Devi took a step back, her expression tightening.
"Wait... Why wasn't this mentioned before?"
ORO-9 swiveled its head gently, tone even and reassuring.
"It is protocol for final round candidates, Devi Iyer. A nano-chip, inserted subdermally beneath the deltoid. Non-invasive. Temporary."
"But why? This wasn't part of any documentation. I deserve to know more before something is inserted into my body."
A soft chime pulsed in the room. A calming hue swept across the walls.
ORO-9:
"The chip only activates within EMOVEX's secure simulation grid. It allows encrypted transfer of sensitive internal modules. Without it, the final round cannot commence. Upon rejection or conclusion, the chip is automatically deactivated and safely removed."
Devi folded her arms, her pulse readable in the ambient walls—her nerves now glowing amber.
"So basically, you don't trust us—until we surrender a piece of ourselves to you?"
There was a pause—unexpectedly human.
Then, Lumora's voice filtered in, not cold, not calculated—but understanding.
"It's not about trust, Devi Iyer. It's about responsibility. You seek to train artificial empathy—to make machines feel. The final round must see whether you can retain your humanity in an environment where it's easy to lose it. The chip is not just access… it is accountability."
Devi looked down at her hand. The same hand that used to hold chalk in dance rehearsals. The one that built emotion-training modules in university. The one her grandmother used to press gently when she was overthinking.
She exhaled slowly.
"I never wanted to be part machine to humanize machines…"
She looked up, calmer.
"But if this is the price to open that door—to shape how the future feels—then fine. Just make it quick."
The robotic arm beeped once.
A faint prick—nothing more than a breath on her skin.
The nano-chip was in.
ORO-9 "Welcome to the threshold, Devi Iyer."
"How long does this round take?" she asked, massaging the area instinctively. "The first one lasted only twenty minutes."
ORO-9's response was calm, almost cryptic.
"That depends solely on you, Devi Iyer. Some finish it quickly.For others… it never ends."
Before she could ask what that meant, a nearby food-serving droid rolled closer—sleek and polished, its tray steaming gently.
"Nutritional preparation initiated: Ragi idlis with almond chutney, sambhar and tulsi tea. Devi Iyer's preferred comfort combination."
The aroma hit her memory like a warm hug. Yet she shook her head lightly.
"I'm not hungry yet. I'll eat at home. Lunch with Dida feels more comforting right now."
She turned away, but ORO-9 tilted its head ever so slightly and spoke in a strangely human tone.
"Never refuse a plate full of food, Devi Iyer. You don't know what's coming next."
There was no smile on its mechanical face, yet the words lingered in the air with unsettling weight.
Devi paused. Confused, yes. But something in its voice—almost emotional—stirred her gut.
She turned back and took a seat.
"Fine," she murmured, picking up a piece. "But only because I don't want to insult the idli gods."
The moment she took the first bite, the ambient lights shifted again—this time to a deep blue-indigo hue. ORO-9 gently gestured her to rise.
"The final round is ready."
With her heart beating in sync with the gold-lit floor beneath her, Devi walked toward a door that hadn't existed moments ago.
The nano-chip had barely settled under her skin when ORO-9 turned slightly toward her, its photonic eyes pulsing softly in a different hue now—violet.
"Before you proceed to the final chamber, there is one last requirement, Devi Iyer."
She tilted her head, wary.
"Now what?"
"All candidates must change into EMOVEX-regulated attire. No external fabric, fibers, or materials are permitted inside the Emotion Simulation Chamber. You must also remove all jewelry and memory devices."
Devi blinked.
"Wait, memory devices?"
The robot's hand extended, palm open.
Her fingers instinctively touched the fine silver chain around her neck—the tiny orb-shaped necklace that rested close to her collarbone. Inside it was her personal memory chip, encrypted with years of moments: her childhood photos, school memories, college notes, the voice note from her Dida, and even old playlists.
"I can't take this off. It's not just data—it's me."
"Security protocol. No emotional interference within the simulation. The necklace will be kept in a biometric locker and returned after your round."
Devi clenched her jaw. Her pulse on the biometric floor flickered again—now pulsing red around her feet.
She stepped back, breathing unevenly.
"This is ridiculous. First a chip, now stripping away who I am?"
A pause.
ORO-9 (softly)
"Sometimes, to prove who you are, you must walk in with nothing but your mind and heart. No ornaments. No memories. Only the truth."
Devi stared at her reflection on the shimmering wall—she looked… angry. Exposed. But somewhere beneath that flicker of frustration, was the same ambition that had burned in her since childhood. This was EMOVEX. This was her dream. And if she walked away now—would she forgive herself?
With a sharp breath, she unclasped the necklace. Her hand lingered just a moment too long.
Devi (gritting her teeth)
"Fine. But this better be worth it."
She stepped into the changing unit. Inside, a robotic drawer hissed open, revealing the EMOVEX-issued attire: a graphite-blue t-shirt and matching pants—minimalist in style, yet undeniably advanced. The fabric was feather-light, adaptive to body temperature, and embedded with microscopic circuits that responded to stress levels, posture, and biometrics.
Next to the folded clothes lay a pair of slip-on shoes—matte black, sleek, and designed for zero-gravity balance and smart cushioning. The moment she slipped her feet in, the soles adjusted themselves, syncing with the pressure points of her feet and sending a soft hum through her arches. It was like walking on intuition.
The EMOVEX emblem, a glowing sigil resembling an infinity knot wrapped in a neural lattice, sat subtly over the left side of the chest—pulsing with soft light as if alive.
As she changed, a slim, mirror-like panel slid down in front of her. Without being prompted, a gentle voice spoke through the chamber walls:
"Preparing candidate for the final round presentation."
A grooming unit extended from the side wall—graceful mechanical arms tipped with soft, synthetic touch-fingers. They moved with the precision of a master stylist, gently brushing through her hair. Devi stiffened at first, unsure—until the robot began parting and braiding her hair into two sleek side braids, woven tightly yet comfortably, keeping every strand in place.
It wasn't just styling—it was symbolic. Tidy, composed, and traditional at heart, like her Dida used to do for her before school on important days.
When it finished, a subtle lavender mist was released—a calming neuro-scent tailored to her biometric state.
She caught her reflection.
Not a girl in borrowed tech.
But a woman poised at the edge of something monumental.
The graphite-blue t-shirt and pants hugged her with uncanny softness, light as a whisper, adjusting around her movements like they were made just for her. The shoes felt like clouds, adjusting to her arches with every step.
Devi hated to admit it—
But she loved the comfort. It wasn't just physical—it was a quiet reassurance, like being held together when everything else was being stripped away.
Devi touched the emblem over her chest and then glanced down at the small tray holding her removed jewelry and memory necklace. She hesitated. Her fingers hovered for a second longer before finally pulling away.
Stripped of everything personal—her identity, her comforts, even her memories—she stood alone.
Bare, but not weak.
It felt like walking into a new skin.
ORO-9 (scanning her attire and hair):
"You are ready, Devi Iyer. The final round awaits."
As the chamber doors began to open, a warm light bled out from within. It wasn't blinding—it was inviting.
Like a promise whispered through time.
She took a breath—steady, deep, calm.
Clad in the graphite-blue EMOVEX suit, her hair braided with clinical elegance, every step cushioned by whisper-soft tech shoes, Devi Iyer walked toward the final chamber with a quiet fire in her eyes. She was confident. Determined. Ready to chase the dream she'd carried for years.
She didn't look back.
Not at the tray holding the memories she removed.
Not at the corridor dimming behind her.
Because the future stood ahead.
But just seconds from now—
a faultline buried deep beneath certainty was about to shift.
Something unthinkable.
Something irreversible.
Not just Devi's life, but everyone's, was about to change.
And she, unaware of the storm silently rising, took her final steps forward—
into the heart of EMOVEX.
Into the moment that would rewrite everything.