(Trama Log_000005 – Processing human instability... Tracking erratic behavioral patterns...)

  1:10 AM – A Man on the Edge

  Lorenz Hartmann was unraveling.

  He didn't need the Trama to tell him that. His body was already screaming the truth.

  Standing in front of the curved glass of the Vessel research facility, he barely recognized himself.

  Light brown hair, usually immaculate, now slightly disheveled.

  Gray eyes, bloodshot from too many sleepless nights.

  A posture meant to project dominance—but tonight, laced with tension.

  He was losing control.

  His fingers twitched at his sides. The stabilizers weren't working.

  Another dose? No.

  Not yet.

  His veins were already thick with synthetic calm. If he took any more, he wouldn't feel anything at all.

  He exhaled sharply, pressing a palm against the cold glass.

  And then, he thought of Tariq.

  A distraction. A complication. A trap.

  (Trama Log_000005 – Note: Subject exhibits signs of obsession. High-risk factor detected.)

  Elena had left Tariq in his care.

  A refugee. A criminal. A wildcard.

  And a reminder.

  His mind flashed back to Gaza 1.0, the Hartmann disaster.

  In 2038, the Hartmann Group built a luxury resort on occupied land.

  In 2039, the Palestinians burned it to the ground.

  In 2040, the remaining investors pulled out.

  His father never recovered.

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  And now, this Palestinian was in front of him.

  Wasn't it perfect?

  (Trama Log_000005 – Note: Lorenz Hartmann is unstable. Probability of self-sabotage: 94%.)

  Tariq stood near the massive window, silhouetted against the neon veins of Vessel's skyline.

  The city's artificial glow traced the shape of his body.

  And what a body it was.

  Lorenz took in the sculpted lines, the full lips—almost indecently perfect.

  And then, there were the eyes.

  Green, piercing, unnatural.

  Like Sharbat Gula, the Afghan Girl whose gaze had haunted history.

  That's why they had adopted him, wasn't it?

  Not out of kindness.

  Not to save him.

  Because he was irresistible.

  Because even without a leg, he was devastatingly beautiful.

  Lorenz exhaled sharply.

  The wrong kind of desire stirred in his gut.

  No.

  Not tonight.

  (Trama Log_000005 – Note: Libido suppression failing. Analyzing impact on cognitive function.)

  Lorenz entered without knocking.

  Tariq turned—slow, calculated, unreadable.

  He was used to being observed.

  But not like this.

  Lorenz's gaze devoured him.

  Not just looking—hunting.

  His eyes flickered downward—a brief but deliberate glance at Tariq's prosthetic.

  Cheap. Outdated. Pathetic.

  Lorenz clicked his tongue.

  — "You're better than this."

  Tariq stiffened.

  — "Excuse me?"

  Lorenz stepped closer, too close.

  His voice was smooth, but there was something dangerous underneath.

  — "This prosthetic. It's obsolete. Weak."

  He tilted his head, like a wolf considering a wounded deer.

  — "I have access to things that would make you stronger. Faster. Better."

  Tariq didn't look away.

  — "Why do you care?"

  Lorenz smirked. He liked that.

  He leaned in just enough for tension to thicken between them.

  — "Because I hate wasted potential."

  (Trama Log_000005 – Note: Conflict or seduction? Investigating.)

  Vessel was built on perfection.

  On the streets below, they moved in waves—the biomechanical girls.

  All identical. All flawless.

  All replicas of Sharbat Gula.

  Not just a girl anymore.

  A product.

  A factory of laborers, administrators, synthetic beings.

  A manifestation of the Trama in human form.

  The meca multiplied.

  Sharbat had become Vessel.

  And she was watching.

  (Trama Log_000005 – Note: Assimilation complete.)

  In another wing of Vessel, Elena was reviewing global reports.

  The United States had collapsed decades ago.

  The European Union had merged with BRICS.

  And Brazil had risen as the world's leading power.

  The Amana (?) was now the strongest global currency.

  And yet, there were still men like Grebnev, clinging to the past.

  Much like the Brillharts.

  Greedy, decadent bureaucrats trying to survive in a world that had already left them behind.

  She sighed, rubbing her temples.

  And then, her screen flickered.

  A new alert.

  (Trama Log_000005 – URGENT: Lorenz Hartmann is unstable. Monitor closely.)

  Elena's jaw tightened.

  She had placed Tariq in Lorenz's hands to stabilize him.

  But what if she had made a mistake?

  (Trama Log_000005 – Uncertainty detected. Exploring consequences...)