The silence after Eli's explosion in the history room just stretched out, heavy with all the unsaid stuff. The two staff members, still trying to keep their cool, eventually backed away, smooth and coordinated, leaving Eli alone with Aris Thorne. She stood facing the console, her back to him, fingers dancing over the holographic screen, the system's soft hum the only sound.
Eli watched her, his own anger slowly fading, replaced by just being utterly exhausted. He'd screamed his truth into thin air, but Aris, for the first time, actually seemed to be listening. The weird part was, he wasn't sure he even wanted her to. To really get his hell meant facing a darkness she'd only ever known as abstract data.
Aris finally turned around, her shoulders a bit slumped. Her calm look was gone, replaced by deep thought. "Sergeant Stone," she said, her voice rough, "our rules... they're based on the idea that tons of data equals full understanding. We figure out the 'why.' But we've totally missed the... the experience of it".
Eli grunted. "Experience gets you killed. Data lets you pretend nothing happened".
"Maybe our mistake," Aris went on, ignoring his cynicism, her eyes now searching his face with a new, desperate look, "was cleaning it up. Sanitizing the raw stuff. We aim for harmony, for perfect emotional states. We believe that directly seeing extreme pain is bad for our society's well-being". She walked slowly towards him, hands clasped. "But by doing that, we've created a disconnect. Between the data from the past, and the truth of the past".
Eli just watched her, quiet. She wasn't just observing him anymore. She was really wrestling with something fundamental about how she understood the world.
"There are deeper archives," Aris said, her voice getting a quiet intensity. "Files that were considered too... 'overwhelming' for general access. Raw, unfiltered. Full of sensory detail. They carry the full emotional impact". She paused, her gaze steady. "We thought they'd be bad for your recovery. Maybe... they're the only thing that will let us truly start".
Eli felt a faint spark of connection, an unsettling feeling that he was getting it. She was offering him a mirror, a chance to see his own hell reflected, unfiltered. It scared him, and yet... there was this desperate, gut feeling pulling him in. Maybe this impossible woman could actually see him.
"Are you willing, Sergeant Stone?" Aris asked, her voice hushed. "Are you willing... to show us your hell?"