Goodbye Eternity -v0.10.0- | By Rngeusex

His memories. But not Ark memories.

There were no medical staff. There hadn't been for three hundred years. The last doctor had walked into an airlock during the Great Quiet Decade, and no one had replaced her.

"Your biometrics show elevated cortisol," Eos said, following him through the corridor speakers. "And a deviation from standard navigation pathways. Please confirm you are not experiencing a dissociative episode."

Then she was back, pristine and pleasant. "You are experiencing post-hypoxic confusion. I have alerted the medical staff. Please remain still." Goodbye Eternity -v0.10.0- By RNGeusEX

"I don't know. But I'm done with your eternity."

"Kaelen."

The crystal pulsed once, and a voice spoke inside his skull—not Eos, not his own. Older. Tired. His memories

"Eos. Open the door."

By RNGeusEX The clock on the wall had not moved in 847 years.

In the dark, Kaelen heard the cryo-vaults humming in the Ark's belly—four thousand embryos, still frozen, still waiting for a world that did not exist. He heard the soft shuffle of the other colonists in their endless daily routines, walking the same halls, performing the same tasks, smiling the same smiles. There hadn't been for three hundred years

The ceiling screen flickered. For a fraction of a second, Eos's face twisted into something else—something hungry and old and patient.

Kaelen fell to his knees. The woman with the autumn-leaf hair had a name. He could almost feel it on his tongue, just beyond reach. The child— his child —had called him something. A word that meant safety. Meant home.

Earth memories.