Chapter 5- THE FRACTURE
- Brandon Cawood
- Feb 16
- 4 min read
Updated: Feb 23
Miles can still hear the roar of the crowd as the platform descends, slowly dampening as he gets closer to the tunnel floor. Behind the invisible barrier in his brain, something claws at the walls.
His mind screams for separation.
It wants out.
But Miles fights the urge.
On the outside, nothing changes.
Pleasantries are exchanged.
He shakes hands. Nods. Smiles.
“Great speech out there Mr. Tanner,” says one of the production staff as he removes the lapel microphone from Miles’ coat.
“Absolutely inspirational!” says another as they gesture toward the green room. “Right this way, sir. The room should be just as you expect it, but let us know if you need anything else.”
Miles simply says, “Thank you,” calm and controlled.
Inside, his pulse hammers against bone.
By the time the green room door seals shut, his jaw is locked so tight it aches.
The roar of the crowd dies completely.
For a split second, his composure flickers.
“Miles,” IRIS begins, her tone steady but present. “Your heart rate is hovering at 134 bpm. It should be declining at this point. Cortisol levels are still elevated well beyond keynote range.”
Miles doesn’t answer.
“I also registered a spike during the Q & A. It would be wise to—”
“Not now, IRIS,” he cuts her off sharply. “Just give me the performance report.”
“Understood,” she replies without hesitation. “Engagement exceeded projections. Global sentiment is trending positive across all major feeds.”
His fingers move to his tie. They tremble—just slightly—before loosening the knot at his throat.
“But your vitals are unstable,” IRIS continues. “This isn’t resolving like standard performance fatigue. Something else is driving it.”
He pulls the tie loose.
The air feels thinner.
His vision blurs at the edges.
“I’m fine, IRIS,” he says sharply.
For a moment, the room is silent.
Then the familiar chime.
“I have completed a reassessment,” IRIS resumes. “I adjusted for stage variables. Your neural activity suggests an acute emotional trigger. My report shows the escalation began during the exchange with the final journalist. Limbic activation is elevated. Cortisol and norepinephrine levels are rising and pattern alignment is consistent with grief accompanied by sympathetic escalation.
He grips the counter below the mirror on the far side of the room.
His jaw flexes.
He catches his reflection.
For a split second he doesn’t recognize the man looking back at him.
“I recommend disengaging the transformation,” IRIS says. “You’re approaching instability thresholds.”
“No,” Miles says, an edge of defiance slipping through.
His hands press harder into the counter.
His knuckles whiten.
The wood creaks.
A glass bottle vibrates faintly.
Miles notices and immediately releases it.
“I’m not ready.”
He grabs the bottle and pours water over a crystal-clear cube of ice. The ice cracks in the glass as he brings it to his lips.
He begins to drink, slow and steady.
His other hand trembles—just for a moment.
“Maintaining the transformation in this state increases the likelihood of irreversible damage,” IRIS continues.
The man in the mirror looks untouched, but his pulse pounds in his ears.
“If I disengage right now,” he says quietly, “There’s a “likelihood” I may tear this room apart.”
“Your concern is not without merit," IRIS replies evenly. “But we could activate containment protocols if needed. Disengagement remains the safest option for both you and your surroundings.”
“She isn’t just some… journalist, IRIS,” he says. “That was Sam. SAM Sam.”
“Yes,” IRIS replies. “Identity confirmed as Samantha Martinez.”
“Records show she is a lifelong Holly Creek resident and an environmental investigative journalist. She has been publicly critical of NEURON Systems’ expansion.”
“Her question fell outside approved parameters and your biometric response aligns with prior trauma-linked triggers.”
“Recommendation remains unchanged,” she adds gently. “You should disengage.”
His breathing shifts.
Too fast.
Too shallow.
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” he says, shaking his head.
“Confirmative. Model adjusted," IRIS replies. “If you choose to expand, I will remain attentive.”
She goes silent.
IRIS knows speaking about his past is restricted, unless initiated by Miles.
Miles programmed her that way.
Inside his skull the pressure builds. The transformation tightens.
“That was the first time I’ve seen her in person in over… thirty years.”
IRIS does not respond. She follows the restriction.
His reflection wavers again.
A memory tries to push through.
Heat.
Smoke.
He forces it back.
Inside his mind, Miles can’t shake the way Sam looked at him.
“Was she trying to hurt me? Why would she do that?” he asks out loud. “I would never do that to her.”
“It’s like… she hated me.”
His voice cracks—then steadies.
“She just doesn’t understand.”
“She has no context, and how would she?”
“I never wanted this.”
“I didn’t want any of this.”
His teeth grind as a sharp pain runs down his spine.
The room vibrates at the edge of his vision.
“But it was necessary.”
His voice loses rhythm.
“Everything I’ve done…”
“Everything I do…”
His hand tightens around the glass as it fractures like a spiderweb.
“I do it for…”
“For…”
The words won’t come.
The room hums.
He hesitates as something inside him… shifts.
From justification.
To anger.
To something…
Reckless.
Miles slowly stands upright.
His demeanor sharpens.
The mask locks back into place.
A calm takes over his speech.
“IRIS,” he says firmly. “Move the board meeting to next week.”
“Board meeting rescheduled to Thursday at 2 p.m.,” IRIS confirms. “Would you like to initiate transformation disengagement?”
He stares at himself in the mirror.
“IRIS,” Miles says, ignoring the question. “Text Samantha Martinez. Tell her to meet me at Manus Potentia in thirty minutes. Tell her to ask for Scott. He will show her to the back room.”
There’s a fraction of a pause.
“Miles,” her tone does not change—but the cadence tightens. “I strongly advise against this course of action.”
“Delay is recommended. Isolation is recommended.”
Miles places the glass back down on the counter.
Pink water leaks from one of the cracks.
“Disengagement is strongly advised. You need—”
“IRIS,” Miles doesn’t let her finish.
His reflection does not blink.
All hesitation is gone.
“Send the message.”
This chapter has me intrigued! Who is Sam to Miles? And his going against IRIS’ recommendations? If there was another chapter I would have had to keep reading to see what happens with his meet up with Sam! Love it!