RECLUSE
EPISODE 01 | SCENE 05
19 YEARS EARLIER • YEAR 328
“Today is a very big day in Penumbra!” the announcer shouts. “In just a few moments, Anima Corp will unveil its most advanced model yet: Generation 4.” He stands before a camera that projects the scene as a holograph across the city. Behind him stretches a restless crowd facing a bare, temporary stage before the towering Anima Corp building. “Maybe some of you didn’t know this,” he says with a gleaming smile, “but I’m a Gen Three. Hard to tell, isn’t it? We’re all eager to see what Dr. Renegade and his team have created this time. What awaits us in this dawning age of the Anima? We’re about to find out.”
Moments later, a man in a dark suit steps onto the stage. He carries no microphone, yet his voice fills the street through unseen speakers. “Welcome, Penumbra!” he calls, the words rolling through the air. “Welcome to this most remarkable day. My name is Dr. Fez. I’ve worked alongside Dr. Renegade since the innovation of Gen Two, and I can hardly believe twelve years have passed since that release.
“To begin at the start, Gen One arrived in the year 312. That’s when everything changed—when mankind became immortal and death itself turned obsolete. Gen Two came in 316. Five years later, in 321, Gen Three was born. And now, seven years on, we stand before Gen Four. I can’t promise our future models will follow such rhythm, but I can promise this: tomorrow, the brightest minds of Anima Corp will return to the drawing ROOM to find what lies beyond. The possibilities are boundless. All that’s needed is the courage to believe.”
The crowd erupts in thunderous applause. “With that,” Fez continues, “let me welcome the man who conquered death itself—the founder of Anima Corp, Dr. Renegade!”
The people explode into celebration. Arms rise high, voices collide in waves, and many leap to glimpse the figure emerging from behind Fez. Renegade steps forward, towering in the light, and waits for Fez to leave the stage. It takes more than a minute for the uproar to fade. When silence finally settles, Renegade lets it hang—until the weight becomes too much.
“Those of us within the Anima Project,” he begins, “have long seen the desperate need to liberate life itself. For decades, we have worked to unbind mortal man. What limit remains for us now? Even death has been conquered by our own hands. And so, one question remains: what will you choose? Will you fade away like those who turned to dust, or will you seize the life meant to last forever?
“The choice is yours. We at Anima Corp do not seek glory or gratitude. We have not saved you. We have only cleared the way. The barrier between you and eternity is gone. So what holds you back from the long life you deserve?
“You see, my name is written on plaques, statues, banners, and buildings. I’ve met children who bear it. Yet I do not wish for my name to endure. I want yours to endure. I want you to last. And with Gen Four, you will—longer than ever before. Now then, let’s get right to the incredible new features…”
But before he continues, Renegade pauses. Behind him stands a line of his closest colleagues. His eyes sweep across them, searching. One is missing. Miles is not there. Renegade lingers on the empty space where his colleague should be.
Along a quiet passage deep inside the Anima Corp building, a sealed door shudders from within. A low rumble presses against the frame, joined by sharp, frantic voices. Beyond it lies a cramped, unlit chamber ringed with glowing panels. Miles stands at its center, hair ragged, breath uneven, his hands trembling as he wedges something beneath a steel box and hits a button. The compartment jolts with a violent boom.
“Stop! Stop!” a voice cries out, urgent and strained. “Miles, stop!” The sound comes from the panels, where a figure flickers into view on the digital screen.
“You said it yourself, Puck,” Miles says, hauling a heavy box off a counter. “It’s time for the world to be disrupted. I can’t play along anymore.”
“Compose yourself, Miles,” Puck replies. “This isn’t the plan.”
“It’s been over twenty years.”
“And now you’re about to destroy everything with this outburst. You need to stop.”
Bitterness hardens Miles’ gaze as he stares at the screen. “You don’t know what it’s like being stuck in here, Puck. You don’t. No one does.”
“You’re not stuck, Miles.”
His eyes begin to shimmer. He turns away, pulling slow breaths, forcing himself to steady.
“You can’t burn down the work you built,” Puck says. “Not in a single day. Not now. You know what’s happening right outside these walls. You’re supposed to be there.”
“I can’t keep doing this.”
“I’m not asking you to keep doing this,” Puck says. “I’m asking you to hold on. And trust.”
“Think of what you’re asking of me,” Miles says. “I’m only human. I can’t bear it. Not after everything we know. How can we let the world go on like this and say nothing?”
A heavy silence settles between them.
“Miles,” Puck finally says. “You don’t understand how crucial you are. And you have no idea what kind of reward awaits you because of it.”
“I don’t care about the reward. I care about what’s right. And delaying isn’t right.”
Puck exhales, slow and pained. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re there. I’m sorry you’re struggling. But there’s no other path than to stay your course.”
“But I’m not, Puck. I’m not staying the course.”
“You are.”
“The longer I stay here, the more people die without the truth. How do you live with that?”
Puck’s eyes drop. He says nothing.
“I can’t,” Miles says. “But I’ll go. I’ll go back. Smile for those people. Shake their hands. Keep my mouth shut. Yes, sir.”
“Miles.”
He turns away from the screen, slicks his hair back, slips into his dress coat.
“Miles, listen,” Puck calls.
But Miles doesn’t turn. He leaves the chamber in silence, and Puck remains alone before the dimming panels, staring into the dark.
The main atrium glitters under silver halos as music ricochets across its vaulted walls. Below, a sea of well-dressed elites mingles and laughs. Renegade stands at the long bar pressed against one side, crystal bottles gleaming under a recessed spotlights.
“Can I get you something to drink, sir?” the android bartender asks.
“Chianti,” Renegade says, leaning on the counter while scanning the crowd.
The android rolls back with a tall glass of red wine. Renegade takes it without looking at him.
“Great reception,” the android says.
“Eh,” Renegade replies, already bored. “It’s fine.”
“I heard your speech earlier,” the bartender says. “Made me want to cry.”
Renegade finally turns toward him, sips his wine, and says, “Don’t lie.”
“Honest, sir.”
A grin slips across Renegade’s face. He sets the glass down and lowers his voice. “You think anyone would notice if I slipped away for a bit?”
“You’re the star of the night,” the bartender says. “That’ll be difficult. But if anyone asks, I’ll say you went to the restroom.”
“You’d lie?”
The android hesitates. “For you, sir.”
“How kind,” Renegade says. He pushes the unfinished drink toward him, winks, and eases along the atrium’s edge, doing his best to stay unnoticed.
He keeps glancing at the crowd, where guests mingle with the new Gen Four models. The difference between them is obvious. The Gen Fours gleam in topaz suits and dresses, while everyone else wears muted grays and blacks.
Renegade bumps into someone. Dr. Fez stands before him. “Congratulations again, Doctor.”
They shake hands. “We did it together,” Renegade says.
“You’re right,” Fez answers, chuckling. Renegade echoes the sound. “But where’s your partner? He wasn’t at the ceremony, and I don’t see him here.”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Renegade lies. “Miles is probably hung over at his apartment.”
Fez laughs. “He does like to start the party early.”
Renegade forces a laugh. “I won’t be long.” He pats Fez’s shoulder. “Get yourself a chianti.” Then he slips away.
He regrets wearing such a flashy suit, but soon he rounds a corner and disappears into an ornate hallway. His steps quicken as he twists through two, three, four turns.
At that same moment, the elevator doors rise, and Miles steps out. Something catches in his peripheral vision. A man in a dazzling suit vanishes around the corner, and the build is unmistakable. Renegade.
Miles narrows his eyes. Strange. Renegade should be at the reception. Where is he going?
The questions pile fast, and Miles moves. He crosses the glossy floor in silence, rounds the same corner—Renegade is gone. But the steps remain. Miles follows the rhythm through the winding halls until he sees a door ease shut at the end. He hurries to it and slips inside. It’s a sleek stairwell, sound echoing against steel and concrete. Renegade’s hurried footsteps thunder below.
Miles leans over the railing and glimpses Renegade’s arm vanish many floors down. Seven floors, he counts. Renegade is rushing to a subterranean level.
Once he hears a latch click below, Miles descends. He grips the cold railing and tiptoes down each step until he reaches the seventh level. But when he gets there, he freezes. There’s no door. Only a blank wall.
He wonders if he miscounted. He presses a hand to the WALL, half expecting a scan trigger. Nothing. He puts his ear to it. Solid. Impenetrable.
He steps back, scratching his head. Something is off. He considers waiting for Renegade to return, but something within nudges him back toward the reception. After one last look at the empty barrier, he turns and climbs the stairs, leaving the strange silence behind him.
