INITIATING PROTOCOL...

The woman who would destroy civilization as we knew it sat cross-legged in a basement meditation cell, tears streaming down her face beneath a sleek black virtual reality headset.

The hum of the device resonated through Sherry's temples, sending waves of warmth throughout her body. Patterns of light bloomed behind her closed eyes, emerging not as mere visuals but as if they were born from deep within her. Bright flares pulsed, commanding her attention, while softer, more fleeting shapes lingered at the edges, like whispers caught on a breeze. Each light, each pulse, resonated with a strange familiarity, weaving through her mind like a forgotten song.

Her breathing slowed, syncing with the pulse that throbbed at the base of her skull. Memories floated past her awareness like leaves on a still stream: the crisp scent of winter mornings, her father's aftershave, the comforting weight of her camera in Yosemite. But unlike before, when she might have clutched at these fragments, she watched them dissolve without resistance. The constant chatter of her mind softened, leaving a profound stillness that was almost tactile.

Tears flowed like morning dew, a natural condensation of something that had always been there, waiting to be recognized and released. The cushion beneath her legs pressed into her skin, a weave of textures that grounded her in this space. The cool air brushed against her damp cheeks, anchoring her as the boundaries between herself and the room shifted, becoming porous.

A shift occurred within her then, as if she had woken up from a sleep she couldn't remember falling into. The distinct tone she knew indicated the completion of the protocol echoed through the room.