The light of the office cast long shadows across the walls, filled with the quiet hum of distant machinery and the occasional rustle of paper. Roland sat across from the Doctor, his face etched with concern and curiosity as he relayed what he knew about M Corp's singularity, the source of 'moonlight stones'—mysterious artifacts reputed to offer protection from psychological attacks.
"The singularity isn't just used for creating those stones," Roland explained, his voice low and cautious. "It's integral to M Corp's rehab and reeducation centers. But honestly, I wouldn't recommend it." He paused, searching the Doctor's face for any sign of reaction. "It leaves people psychologically 'metastable.' It doesn't resolve their issues, just... masks them, in a way."
The Doctor nodded, his expression unreadable, his mind racing. "And the version the Arbiter used? Could it interact with amnesia, perhaps stirring up forgotten memories?"
Roland leaned back, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It's possible. The properties of the singularity could resonate with latent memories, dredging them up unexpectedly."
...
Alone in the bathroom, the Doctor stood hunched over the basin, staring at their reflection in the mirror. Their face, usually so composed, was now a mask of turmoil. The reflection seemed to move independently, its lips parting as if to speak.
"You can calmly, happily, and safely wait for the Originium to give birth to a future that does not have to end," their reflection whispered, its voice a ghostly echo.
The Doctor's eyes widened. "No," they muttered, their voice a mix of defiance and fear. "That's not the way."
The reflection continued, relentless. "Originium will become the starlight that guides the next civilization. It will preserve everything—from intelligent life to the vortex of light and stars in the universe. Even if time itself will cease to exist."
"Remember what Priestess said. This was the only way to let Originium cover the earth, to let matter and time, tides and wonders, light and crying all return to the vast sea of information. Only then can we find change, breakthroughs, and even avoid the fate of the end."
The Doctor's breathing grew ragged, their mind a tumult of memories and revelations. "This is not a transformation, this is death."
"Not extinction, but survival."
They whispered to themself, a litany to anchor their fraying sanity. "I want to cure Oripathy. I want to end the misery of the Sarkaz. I want to wander in this civilization, to experience the vitality of new life we once had but lost for so long."
The reflection, now almost pitying, stared back at him. "Even though, in hundreds and thousands of years, all the familiar and nostalgic things we see will no longer exist."
"If the Originium Project ends in failure, no, even if it is just delayed for a while... The few known forms of life on this planet are but a fleeting bubble. I have been deceiving myself for a long time. But...how can I explain this to Kal'tsit? To Amiya?"
"How can I tell them, 'The torture you are going through is the only way to save you, you should give up resistance'? How should I tell them, 'Terran civilization is just a short-lived illusion. Only by being accepted by the Originium can we have a chance to reverse our fate'?"
The toll of watching the lives of those infected disappear like smoke was not lost on him. "This is a common sight in Terra, but it is ultimately the passing of life, sad and cruel. They followed the process of Originium assimilation, and through death became parts of the internalized universe, becoming an opportunity for life to break through the ultimate darkness." their reflection countered.
The Doctor's fist collided with the mirror, shattering the glass as blood seeped from a glove. Their fractured reflection continued its relentless monologue, even as the sharp pain momentarily grounded their spiraling thoughts.
"I killed Theresa. I killed Theresa. I killed Theresa!"
The reflection stared back at him, unblinking and severe. It spoke with a voice that was their own, yet twisted by a harsh, unforgiving truth. "She was kind-hearted, but naivety doesn't save anyone. We did the right thing, betraying Babel to Theresis."
The words hung heavy in the air, a suffocating cloak of justification draped over an act that could never truly be justified. The Doctor's hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails digging into palms, the physical pain a mere shadow of the torment wracking their soul.
"Because, sometimes the greater good demands sacrifices that are neither clean nor kind. You know this."
"I'm sorry, Theresa," they whispered, their voice breaking. "I am so, so sorry."
But there was no forgiveness to be found in the silent room, no absolution from the shadows that watched and whispered.
Their voice broke, choked with emotion. "...Amiya...Kal'tsit...Priestess...what should I do?"
Another memory, dredged up from the dark depths.
Her words echoed, haunting in their solemnity, as if the very walls were leaning in to listen.
"...How could it be! How could I blame you?" she whispered, her voice a blend of frustration and incredulity.
She paused, her silhouette framed against the vast window that looked out upon the swirling cosmos. "I understand your uneasiness. What we are arguing about is far beyond the scope of what a small life form like 'human beings' should interfere with."
Priestess's gaze turned back to the Doctor, intense and piercing. "But this is the only way. You and I should all believe this. If... we still have time, we can imagine and realize together, and depict the boundaries of the universe and the shapes of all things."
In the dim light, her features softened. "And in those vulnerable moments, I hope you can stand by me. You will, right?"
The vision faded, an echo of a time long past.
"The Originium Project has been the work of many generations. During that time, hundreds of billions of our compatriots died, and all they got in return was a wait of tens of thousands of years... Why give it up for the sake of a race that has no knowledge of the stars?"
The Doctor scoffed at themself, a bitter sound. "But is it true that the races here really have no chance of winning? No, how could I be so naive. They are not united, they are not ideal, they are not developed... just a life that survived by chance."
Their face was wet with tears. Had they been crying the whole time? At what point did these tears begin to flow out?
"It is just a minor inconvenience, something like this." their reflection, the Ghost of Babel, let out a hollow laugh. "If you bothered to cry for every time regret came calling, you would just spend all your days weeping."
The door burst open and Roland entered, his presence a sudden intrusion into the solitude of his contemplation. "Doctor?! Give me a sec!"
Without waiting for a response, Roland slung the Doctor's arm over their shoulder, his grip firm and unyielding. He began to carry them out of the bathroom, his urgency a stark contrast to the Doctor's introspective paralysis.
His past self continued to mutter in his ear, relentless.
"Put aside your remorse, your regrets. Finish the plan, for Priestess, for everyone. Put Terra out of its misery."