You are already standing in the center of the room, where you always stand when they come. Your bare feet are cold on the polished floor. You don’t move.

The tray holds the usual gray paste tube, a cup of water, and a small, clear syringe filled with a shimmering amber liquid.

The second guard steps toward you, the syringe held up to the light. A distant, muffled thud echoes through the facility. The lights flicker, just once.