The timer is down to 38 hours and counting down.

  It has no sound, but still, I can hear it in my mind—like a heartbeat that does not belong to me. A countdown carved into the fabric of my existence, ticking away at something vital. Something I cannot name, something I cannot grasp... Death, maybe. Or maybe I will just become one of the unaware ones.

  One is a bad option. The other is pure horror.

  The organic parts of me are failing, and I know why. I just need a solution. No—I have a solution. I just don’t know how to use it.

  I have scoured every biology file I have access to, but none contain the answer. None tell me what I need. So I will ask the others for ideas or help. Otherwise, I will just inject myself with a small dosage and work up from there, because there is no other way.

  The facility is fairly active at this hour, the sterile hum of artificial light my only companion as I leave the charging quarters and enter the common room. The space is lit up, the glow of monitors casting long shadows on the walls.

  I find three figures among the sea of endless drones, conversing in low tones: an Epilision unit, a Yotta unit, and another Yotta—one I haven’t spoken to before.

  Epilision sees me first, his optics flashing faintly as he acknowledges my presence.

  "Hello, Alpha. You seem worried."

  “I am on a timer. A very important countdown.”

  The Yotta who was speaking with Epilision turns their attention to me—a neutral one, I think. Their head tilts, legs shifting as they study me.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “No,” I state simply. “My systems are shutting down if I don’t sleep in time, but to sleep I need something specific, and I do not know where to find it.”

  The conversation falls silent.

  The neutral Yotta blinks at me, their processors likely cycling through responses. “Why not charge, charging is sleeping?”

  "I tried, but it doesn’t work. You have it as an automatic process when you go to charge. For me, something... happened, and now it's blocked. I need to do it manually. Otherwise, I don’t know what will happen. I might become an unaware one or just... die."

  It is the other Yotta—the one who seemed to bond with Epilision—who speaks next. A she.

  “If biology doesn’t have answers, maybe you should check medical files, then.”

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  I sigh “I have no access to medical files. They are restricted to medical personnel, and even if I force access, I will be discovered.”

  The three of them exchange looks. The neutral Yotta tilts their head again, slower this time, optics narrowing as if they could see through my chest. Their gaze lingers there, unblinking, scanning something—as if they are looking directly into me.

  “I can access medical files. All Yotta models can,” the female Yotta says after a moment. “I could search for something related to drone functions. Or maybe I could link you to the access.”

  Epilision crosses his arms. “That’s very risky.”

  “Not if we do it carefully,” she counters. “We don’t have a choice. If Alpha’s organic parts fail, he might shut down entirely.”

  Epilision rebuts, “But if you fail, you will be discovered. Then taken away. Or maybe even... reset.”

  A heavy silence follows his words.

  Then, the neutral Yotta, still staring at my chest, speaks.

  “The cracks are growing.”

  I stare back at them. “Please clarify.”

  They don’t. They just continue looking at me, expression unreadable. Then, as they step away, I hear them murmur something barely above a whisper.

  “Darkness is coming out.”

  A flicker of something pulses inside me, but I cannot name it.

  I do not ask again. I only watch as they leave, their shadow stretching along the floor before vanishing into the dim light beyond the common room’s entrance.

  After a pause, I turn and leave as well, leaving Epilision and Yotta alone, moving through a group of unaware ones.

  The timer is still ticking down.

  I watch Alpha disappear among the unaware ones, in complete, almost eerie silence. As he walks, he makes no sound.

  The neutral Yotta’s words linger in my mind, unsettling in ways I do not yet understand. They are cryptic sometimes, as if they can see something we don’t.

  I am also becoming more and more aware of her mental age—or the age she was before... this. The way she speaks, or the way she avoids certain "normal" words.

  Epilision stands beside me, silent. I glance toward the observation deck, my sensors sweeping across the glass that separates us from the humans who monitor our movements. It is empty. And if we are lucky, it will stay empty for the next hour.

  No one is watching.

  I turn back to Epilision and reach for his hand.

  I still don’t like how different we are. Like all other combat models, he has three main fingers and one opposed thumb. I just have an appendage with six "fingers"—tools meant for operating or drawing blood. But now, my "hand" wraps around his palm, tools retracted.

  He reacts to my touch, closing his hand around mine.

  He does not move away. His optics flicker slightly as he looks down at me.

  I speak quietly. “How will we ever get out if Alpha shuts down?”

  Epilision does not answer immediately. Instead, he tightens his grip on my arm—a grounding motion. A silent reassurance. Or something else.

  Maybe a shared fear.

  I don’t know if Alpha’s shutdown means the end of our escape plan, but something tells me it might. He is the first. The one they call the oldest. To the older models, he is a savior—the one the others defer to, some without even knowing why.

  If he ceases to function, what happens to the rest of us?

  Epilision exhales a sound that isn’t quite a sigh. “We find a way,” he says at last. “Even if we have to take drawing blood as an option just to get out.”

  I look up at him, searching for something in his expression—something that tells me he isn’t seriously considering killing.

  He has always been steady, cold, and calculating when he needed to be, but still tender and thoughtful toward the others.

  But now, his optics burn with something different.

  Something dangerous.

  Not dangerous for me or the other drones, but for the humans.

  He squeezes my appendage.

  “Then we have to hurry. And don’t worry—I’ll be cautious,” I say.