The ward rattled as the chronal engines cycled.
Due to “administrative efficiency,” the hospital registered soldiers as dead five minutes before their actual demise to save on logistics.
“I'm still breathing,” the corporal wheezed, watching his own name appear on the casualty list.
“The system doesn't make mistakes,” the nurse whispered, her eyes flickering like a dying bulb.
“Time doesn't exist; it's just a trick of the mind, right? Please...” He willed the clock to reset.
The room shuddered. Time looped, but his body didn't. He was now a conscious corpse, trapped in a five-minute window of endless, agonizing paperwork.
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alt="Phantom by Liam Dragan"
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width="1200"
height="630"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Neuroluxe Implant no 3Z82M99B64 by Bryanna Botham"
class="motion-reduce"
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alt="Blindly Following Orders by Chris Tattersall"
class="motion-reduce"
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alt="Donor by Collette Night"
class="motion-reduce"
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>