The wingless, robed angelic being, its ancient eyes like chips of glacial ice, regarded them with an unnerving stillness. "Initiate 731, Module Alpha. Initiate 732, Module Beta." Its voice, a dry mental whisper, assigned each of them a destination down the long corridor lined with translucent energy fields. Kenji, designated Subject 734, was directed to Module Delta.
He approached the indicated cubicle. The energy barrier shimmered, then dissolved with a faint hiss, revealing a stark, ovoid chamber perhaps three meters across. The walls were the same seamless, near-black stone, faintly luminous. A single, ergonomically shaped chair, clearly not designed for human comfort, faced a blank section of the opposite wall. Once Kenji crossed the threshold, the luminous entry field behind him ceased its shimmer and became an unyielding barrier, its closure a soft, almost inaudible thud that nevertheless sealed his immediate fate. Inside the module, the profound stillness that had characterized the outer passage seemed to condense, evolving into a heavy, confining stillness that pressed from all sides. Expectation hung in the ensuing silence. Kenji, after a moment, transferred his weight to the room's only protuberance designed for sitting; it gave little, its substance dense and cold to the touch. His visual survey of the stark interior was a systematic inventory of its barrenness, seeking any deviation or potential mechanism within the unembellished enclosure.
Then, the blank wall before him rippled, not with light, but as if the stone itself had become a liquid display of immense depth and resolution. Images, sounds, and something else – direct emotional imprints – began to flood his senses. It wasn't a screen he was watching; it felt like the information was being poured directly into his consciousness, bypassing his eyes and ears to some extent.
The "lesson" began with the creation myth of Aethel, a sanitized, glorious epic of a benevolent Sky-Sovereign who, through immense wisdom and sacrifice, had uplifted a primitive, chaotic world into an era of unparalleled order and serene perfection. The Aethelwings, their eagle origins barely touched upon, were portrayed as a chosen people guided towards a divine metamorphosis into the Seraphim Ascendant, the flawless guardians of this perfect peace. There were no mentions of lost arms, brutal conquests, or the crushing weight of millennia that Kenji's fragmented historical knowledge hinted at from his own world's speculative fictions about gods and angels.
Images of breathtaking, impossible celestial cities, harmonious geometric patterns of energy, and legions of beatific, powerful Seraphim moved in perfect synchrony, all underscored by a soundtrack of soaring, ethereal music designed to evoke awe and reverence. Direct emotional pulses accompanied these visuals: a sense of profound safety under the Sovereign's gaze, a feeling of joyful submission to the Grand Design, a deep-seated revulsion for anything that represented "chaos" or "individuality."
Kenji gritted his teeth, his mind recoiling from the intrusive emotional manipulation even as he tried to absorb the factual data stream. He attempted to mentally wall off the emotive content, to analyze the information objectively, dissecting the propaganda. His System interface was useless here, unresponsive, or perhaps actively suppressed. He focused on his breathing, trying to maintain a core of his own thoughts amidst the overwhelming psychic and sensory barrage. He noted the recurring symbols, the cadence of the narration (a calm, genderless voice that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere), the specific historical events that were emphasized, and, more importantly, those that were glaringly omitted.
Hours seemed to pass in this state of forced absorption. His head throbbed, a dull ache spreading behind his eyes. Just as he felt his mental defenses beginning to fray, the flood of information ceased. The wall returned to its blank, stony state. The silence was a relief, but it was heavy, laden with the residue of the "lesson."
A small panel slid open near the base of the chair, revealing a single, grey nutrient bar and a bulb of water. His System interface flickered briefly:
[Cognitive Assimilation – Module 1A: Complete. Retention: 78%. Emotional Compliance: 42% (Sub-Optimal).]
[Physical Conditioning Mandate: Initiating.]
Before he could process the "Sub-Optimal" rating, the floor beneath the chair began to glow with a network of lines. The synthesized voice from the classification chamber echoed in his mind: "Subject 734. Assume Conditioning Stance Alpha."
The chair retracted into the floor. The glowing lines formed a complex pattern. He had no idea what Stance Alpha was, but a jolt of unpleasant, static-like energy shot through his legs, forcing him into a specific, awkward crouch. Another jolt corrected his arm position. For the next hour, the automated system guided him through a series of physically demanding, often painful, exercises. Incorrect movements or insufficient exertion were met with increasingly uncomfortable energy pulses. It was less about building strength and more about enforcing absolute obedience and testing his physical limits.
Finally, exhausted, aching, and mentally drained, Kenji was allowed to collapse onto the bare floor as the conditioning lights faded. The energy barrier to his module remained firmly in place.
[Physical Conditioning – Cycle 1: Complete. Exertion Level: Nominal.]
[Rest and Nutrient Intake Period: [01:00:00] Standard Hour.]
[Next Cognitive Assimilation Module: 1B. Subject: The Sacred Hierarchy and Your Purpose Within.]
One hour. Then it would begin again. Kenji closed his eyes, the "Sub-Optimal" compliance rating a cold knot in his stomach. He was a data point, an anomaly, and this place was a factory designed to reshape him, or break him. The first lesson had been brutal. He had a sinking feeling that the lessons to come would only intensify.