The news about Eli's "danger-sensing" skill quietly spread through the facility's science crew. It wasn't something they'd expected, or anything that fit their usual idea of recovery. Eli, though, mostly stayed out of the loop on the debate his existence was causing. He was too caught up in his own growing unease.
The biodome thing, while a moment of unsettling clarity for Aris Thorne, just made Eli feel even more like a walking contradiction. He was useful, sure, but only because he could spot the flaws in their perfection, the cracks in their peace. His very usefulness just highlighted how out of place he was. He was a tool for destruction, even when all he did was point out a dying air vent.
Aris started spending even more time with him, often bringing in new researchers. Their faces were a mix of academic curiosity and a subtle nervousness. They'd watch him, run simulations, and throw out theoretical scenarios, trying to figure out how his "conflict-tuned perception" worked. Eli just put up with it, giving short, practical answers, his eyes always scanning, always looking for the next potential flaw in their spotless environment. He found plenty. A tiny vibration in a support beam, an almost invisible hiccup in a water filter, a subtle shift in the outside air pressure hinting at weird weather.
Every observation, which the researchers carefully logged, only made him feel more like an alien. They saw patterns, but not the threat hiding in them. They saw data; he saw danger.
One day, while walking through the central communal plaza – a huge, open space bathed in natural light, full of people doing various calm, harmonious things – Aris asked a question that cut right through Eli's guarded attitude.
"Eli," she said, her voice softer than usual, "do you ever… miss your old world? Even with all the suffering?"
He stopped, turning to her. The plaza was bustling with peaceful life, a symphony of gentle movements and soft murmurs. It was everything his world wasn't.
"Miss it?" he scoffed, the word tasting bitter. "I longed for it to end, Aris. Every damn day. But at least there… at least I knew what I was fighting. I knew who I was. Here…" He waved a hand around the plaza, taking in the perfect, alien peace. "Here, I'm just… a ghost. A weird thing. I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to be".
Aris looked at him, and for the first time, Eli saw something in her eyes that wasn't just detached curiosity or scientific interest. It was a flicker of real empathy, a recognition of deep loss. A shadow passed over her calm face, a ghost of doubt in her own perfect world. He had shown her hell, and it had stirred something in her, something that might turn out to be more dangerous than any failing air vent. For the first time, Eli felt a fragile sense of hope that someone, just maybe, truly got his trauma. But that hope was unsettling, because it meant pulling someone else into his darkness.