The Portal

The portal

The hallway opened to a balcony overlooking the work floor below.

Daniel crouched behind the rail.

Four clear cartons were rolled onto a brightly lit stage.

Someone shouted, “Clear!”

A high frequency whine dropped rapidly in tone until he felt it in his chest. The lights dimmed.

The cartons vanished.

Another pallet was wheeled beneath bright white lamps. Bodies lay packed side by side, limp and breathing, wrists banded with plastic tags. Men. Women. Young. Old. Whoever they could take.

A handling machine rolled forward on ceiling tracks.

It had no face, no voice, no hurry.

Four padded arms unfolded with the precision of something built to move fragile glass. One arm slid beneath a woman’s shoulders, another beneath her knees, a third steadied her head, and the fourth pinned her wrists gently against her chest.

It lifted her from the pallet.

A clear carton lay open beside the stage. The machine lowered her inside, then raised the carton upright and locked it into position.

The box was just wide enough for shoulders, just deep enough for heels and spine. Restraints settled against ankles and hips. A curved back panel adjusted to fit her body. The front door sealed with a soft hiss.

Three more cartons clicked into place, forming a tight square.

A printer spat out a label. Another arm peeled the tag from the woman’s wrist and fixed it to the carton wall.

“Stage load complete,” someone called.

Daniel’s stomach tightened.

Another pallet was dragged in and left unattended near the shadows below the balcony. Guards shouted somewhere down the corridor behind him.

Now.

He slipped down the service ladder, hit the floor without a sound, and crossed into the dim edge of the loading lane.

A man lay nearest the corner, breathing slow under whatever they had given him.

Daniel tore the tag from the sleeper’s wrist, shoved him gently into the darkness behind stacked crates, then dropped into the empty space on the pallet.

Bodies pressed warm against both sides of him.

He forced his hands limp. Slowed his breathing. Closed his eyes.

Wheels clattered.

The pallet began to move.

Somewhere ahead, the decreasing tone of the portal started to sing.

A scanner passed over Daniel’s face.

The woman frowned at the display.

“Conscious,” she said softly.

She scanned again.

Then her expression changed.

“Yield index nine-point-eight? Impossible.”

She snatched a needleless injector from the tray and stepped toward him.

“Hold still.”

Daniel let his head sag.

When she leaned close, he exploded upward.

The restraints tore loose. He caught her wrist, slammed it against the frame, ripped the injector free, and drove it against her neck.

A sharp hiss.

Her eyes widened.

She collapsed before she hit the floor.

Daniel stood in a large room—twenty-four people strapped into the extraction frames. Clear lines ran from their arms into the machine. Silent. Routine.

He took the tech’s ID card and lab coat.

On the lab table there was a M.2 memory blade marked “KEY”. He took it and slipped in his harmonica.

At the door, he paused.

A long corridor stretched in both directions. Identical doors lined the walls. At the far end, a single sign glowed:

EXIT.

His body wanted to run toward it.

He didn’t move.

Then he turned away.

He walked instead into the opposite direction.

Room after room passed him.

Some were full—people connected, motionless, being harvested.

Some were empty, waiting.

The system never paused. It only rotated.

He kept walking.

Daniel burst through the door at the end of the corridor.

Two men seized him before he took a second step.

The room beyond was warm, quiet, almost elegant. A wide desk faced the loop chamber windows.

Dr. Vey looked up from a screen.

“You’re late,” he said. “I’ve been expecting you.”

They forced Daniel into a chair.

Vey studied him with mild interest.

“You are disruptive, valuable, and tiresome. So I’ve chosen a humane solution.”

He put a stack of crisp bills into a satchel on the desk.

“Two thousand dollars, printed to period specification. In 1900, you’ll be a wealthy man.”

Daniel lunged. The goons crushed him back into the chair.

They stripped him, searched every seam, every pocket, every stitch.

Vey had him dressed in rough wool trousers, suspenders, boots, and a plain shirt and coat.

“No devices. No proof. No language anyone will believe.”

Vey lifted Daniel’s old harmonica between two fingers.

“This?”

“A toy,” Daniel said.

Vey smirked and tossed it into Daniel’s lap.

“Keep your toy.”

The portal ring began to hum.

Vey leaned close.

“You wanted to save the future. Try surviving the past.”

They shoved Daniel into the light.