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Light flooded his visual processors, and there was too much of it—harsh and deliberate, designed to disorient. Marcus squinted but his eyelids were barely responding to neural commands. His body didn’t feel like his anymore; the sensation was like being a passenger in his own flesh, watching someone else pilot his limbs. He was upright but completely restrained, arms positioned slightly away from his torso like a crucifix. A magnetic restraint system across his chest held him suspended like a sculpture in some technological cathedral.

The air around him shimmered with microscopic gold particles that caught and scattered the light in patterns too perfect to be natural. Scripted sunbeams filtered through ambient mist that rolled across the stage in programmed waves. Choirs filled the edges of the performance space with sustained harmonies, their reverb calculated to inspire awe in the watching audience. Every surface was iridescent, trimmed in the same white-gold lattice work as his ceremonial garment. Everything glowed with its own internal light, including him—he was part of the installation now, another prop in their elaborate theater.

His garment was pristine and perfectly fitted, the fabric responding to his body temperature with subtle color shifts. Somewhere in the blurring heat of pharmaceutical sedation, he registered how it felt against his skin—light as air, silky smooth, frictionless as liquid mercury. It was a cathedral’s interpretation of comfort, designed to make the wearer feel blessed rather than condemned. The neckline was stitched with symbols he couldn’t decode, probably focus-grouped by a marketing team to convey transcendence without triggering any specific religious associations.

He tried to spit, to make any gesture of defiance, but nothing came out except a soft exhale. His head lolled slightly to the side, motor control reduced to random drift. Through his compromised vision he could see the others—there were six of them total, posed exactly like him in a gentle arc behind the main stage. All of them were dressed in variants of the same ceremonial lie, their garments catching light in synchronized patterns. Eyes wide and dilated, most of them clearly drugged into compliance. One was smiling way too much, his expression locked in chemical bliss that made Marcus’s stomach turn.

Camera drones floated around them in choreographed spirals, their movements timed to capture every angle of what was about to unfold. Somewhere in the broadcast center, technicians were surely adding soft vignettes to the live feed, color-correcting their faces to look more peaceful, more willing.

And then, suspended above the stage in delicate serif typography projected against the void, words appeared that made his blood run cold: “Ascension: A New Harmony”

He wished he could scream. Just one raw, animal sound would be enough to shatter the carefully constructed lie they’d wrapped around him like burial shrouds. But the drugs kept his jaw locked, his vocal cords unresponsive. His eyelids drooped at half-mast like some tranquilized lab specimen, making him look serene when he felt anything but.

Is this the system's idea of grace? Knowing that patchlord it’s exactly what his idea of heaven feels like.

He tried to roll his eyes but couldn’t. So he stared instead, into the haloed void where the stage lights didn’t quite reach.

That’s when he saw the audience stretching out beyond the performance area. Rows and rows of them, clean and carefully curated nodes selected for their photogenic compliance. Unblemished faces arranged in symmetry, a gallery of polite expressions and impeccable posture. Just watching, waiting for the show to begin.

They think I’m lucky, he realized. He could see the envy in their eyes.

A soft chime rang out, three tones spaced evenly.

The audience rose as one, their movement synchronized like a choreographed dance.

Then he arrived.

Reiss stepped onto the stage from nowhere, seamlessly, like a summoned deity. Black suit. Chrome cuffs. Expression calm, radiant with benevolent purpose.

He didn’t rush as he walked to the center of the stage, standing just a few feet in front of Marcus. He didn’t bother to look at any of the condemned.

He looked out into the crowd, and into the cameras, into the billions of watching eyes across every New Life broadcast point.

Then he smiled a smug smile. Like a man about to give a speech he’d rehearsed a thousand times in his own head.

Marcus tried again to scream, pouring every ounce of remaining will into his vocal cords. Nothing emerged except the whisper of controlled breathing.

The room stilled, even the silence held its breath.

When Reiss’s voice finally cut through the silence, it was soft and measured, each word carefully modulated. Soothing in the way that expensive therapy apps were designed to be. The kind of cadence engineered to make people trust you even while you were leading them toward the fire.

“What you are about to witness,” he began, letting his words hang in the processed air, “is the next evolutionary phase in human continuity.” He let that hang a bit longer than necessary. “For too long, we have feared endings in all their forms. Death, obsolescence, the natural conclusion of our individual narratives. But tonight—” his smile widened slightly, revealing teeth that were too perfect to be original “—we rewrite that fundamental story.”

Behind him, the resonance arch glowed faintly. Marcus could feel the charge in his spine.

“Those trying to stop us have called this process deletion,” Reiss said. “In the contrary, is selection.”

He turned then, finally acknowledging Marcus and the others as if they were sacred offerings arranged for his pleasure. His gaze lingered on each face, cataloging their fear and drugged compliance with obvious satisfaction.

“These nodes you see before you are not failures. They are not corrupted. They are not mistakes. They are simply ready.”

The audience leaned forward collectively, their eyes reflecting the stage lights like hungry stars. Even through his chemical haze, Marcus could feel their anticipation building like static before a storm.

“Each one of them has reached a unique state of completion. A closure not possible in most iterations. And for that they will be granted something rare.”

He gestured upward and the lights shifted. A holographic banner appeared above the stage: “Ascension”

Reiss’s voice dropped just enough to create the illusion of intimacy, as if he were sharing secrets with close friends. “Our brightest node, the face of New Life Technologies and the embodiment of everything we strive to become, has composed a farewell performance unlike anything our systems have ever rendered. A harmonic sequence so carefully tuned to human neural chemistry that it doesn’t simply delete—it cleanses. It lifts. And finally, it transforms what remains into pure meaning.”

He took a few slow steps, pacing with excitement.

“Tonight, you’ll witness the first public implementation of live harmonic ascension. Complete system-body dissolution with zero residue, zero pain for the subject. What remains after the process is only the distilled essence of what they were—pure information, liberated from the limitations of individual existence.”

A calculated pause, letting the implications sink into minds already primed for transcendence.

He looked back to the audience, not just speaking to them but through them, his words aimed at every watching eye across the network. “This is what it means to serve something greater than your individual desires. This is what it means to be chosen by forces beyond your comprehension. This, my friends, is what heaven looks like when it’s built from code and sustained by will.”

The camera drones adjusted their positions, capturing the perfect angles as the resonance arch behind Marcus flared to full power. Energy cascaded across its surfaces like liquid lightning. Far across the performance chamber, a secondary stage began to shimmer with its own light. Sarah would enter soon, Marcus realized with growing horror. Sarah would be the one to sing him into oblivion while the audience watched and applauded.

Reiss smiled once more. “Now… let us begin.”