Why Are You Here?

Karthis Junction

Dr. Veyr Talan disliked working around Arena veterans.

Not because they were violent.

Violence was normal.

The Grand Galactic Games had existed for thousands of years. Entire economies depended upon them. Entire cultures had formed around them. Children wore miniature pilot uniforms during festival days while wealthy families hosted betting parties during major fleet engagements. War had become spectacle long before Veyr was born.

No.

What unsettled him was how comfortable the veterans were afterward.

The Torthrak scientist stood silently behind the reinforced observation glass while a Human pilot laughed loudly somewhere behind him. The man was missing most of his left arm and half the flesh around his jawline, replaced by cheap industrial cybernetics stamped with sponsor logos. Across the medical bay, a Gumihardra racer sat calmly reading betting statistics while surgeons regrew tissue along her spine following a high-speed crash less than six hours earlier.

Nobody here seemed disturbed by any of it.

Not even the doctors.

Especially not the doctors.

Veyr lowered his datapad slightly.

“Run the emotional response comparisons again,” he said quietly.

One of his assistants blinked. “Again?”

“Yes.”

The younger Torthrak hesitated before nodding and returning to the console banks lining the laboratory wall. Around them, holographic neural scans rotated slowly through the dim light — Human, Sylvani, Vexari, Gumihardra, Grukk’nar, dozens more.

All different.

All wrong in the same way.

Veyr stared at the highlighted structures glowing inside the projections.

Enlarged aggression and thrill-response regions.

Reduced empathic distress processing.

Reduced aversion reactions to observed suffering.

The same pattern.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Across species separated by millions of years of evolution.

“That’s impossible,” whispered another assistant.

Nobody answered her.

Because they had already said it twelve times today.

The laboratory sat deep beneath the university district of Karthis Junction, far from the Core Systems and even further from Senate attention. The station itself drifted quietly above a dim mineral world surrounded by refinery platforms and cargo traffic. Safe. Forgettable. Unimportant.

Exactly why Veyr had chosen it.

He slowly moved toward the central archive terminal while old historic scans appeared beside the modern results.

The room grew quieter.

Ancient neurological records from nearly six thousand years ago rotated beside modern scans.

The differences were subtle.

But undeniable.

The aggression centres had grown larger over time.

Empathic distress regions had diminished.

Not destroyed.

Changed.

Redirected.

The scans showed preserved emotional bonding:
family attachment
social loyalty
cooperation
pair bonding

But weaker responses toward:
public suffering
mass casualty events
spectacle violence

One of the younger researchers shifted uneasily.

“It almost looks selective.”

Veyr finally looked away from the displays.

Because that was the part terrifying him most.

Natural corruption should damage systems randomly.

This did not.

This was precise.

The Human pilot behind the observation glass suddenly burst into laughter again as another veteran showed him combat footage from a recent Arena match. The recording displayed a bomber disintegrating mid-air while commentators screamed excitedly over the broadcast.

Several medical staff nearby glanced toward the footage.

One quietly smiled.

Veyr felt something cold settle beneath his shell plating.

Not fear.

Recognition.

Because he had watched the same footage earlier that morning.

And enjoyed it.

The thought made him physically ill.

“Doctor?”

Veyr looked up slowly.

His senior assistant stood beside the archive terminal holding a frozen comparison screen.

“Sir… I expanded the historic datasets.”

Veyr moved closer.

The assistant swallowed carefully.

“It’s not recent.”

More scans appeared.

Older.

Older again.

The pattern continued backward through recorded history.

Thousands of years.

The room became completely silent.

One of the researchers finally spoke.

“All species?”

Veyr answered without emotion.

“Yes.”

Nobody argued after that.

The scientist slowly lowered himself into the command chair while the displays continued rotating around him.

Human.

Sylvani.

Gumihardra.

Grukk’nar.

Vexari.

Every species exposed to the Shimmer long-term showed the same corruption pattern.

Not evolution.

Not adaptation.

Corruption.

The realization spread through the room like poison.

A younger researcher suddenly shook her head violently.

“No.”

Everyone looked toward her.

“This has to be wrong.”

“It isn’t,” another scientist muttered.

She pointed angrily toward the displays.

“You’re saying the entire galaxy has brain damage?”

“No,” Veyr said quietly.

That frightened them more.

Because he sounded completely certain.

The Torthrak scientist stared at the scans for several long moments before finally speaking again.

“I think…” he said slowly, “…the Shimmer changes emotional processing over time.”

Nobody moved.

“It preserves social stability,” Veyr continued. “Family attachment. Cooperation. Loyalty.”

Another scan rotated slowly.

“But it reduces aversion toward suffering.”

The Arena footage still played beyond the observation glass.

Burning aircraft.

Cheering crowds.

A child somewhere outside the medical ward laughed excitedly as a pilot exploded across the screen.

Nobody else in the station reacted.

One assistant sat down heavily.

“Oh gods…”

Veyr closed his eyes briefly.

Because the worst part was not the data.

The worst part was understanding what the data meant.

The Games.

The Senate.

The entertainment culture.

The endless public violence.

The galaxy had not become cruel.

It had become comfortable with cruelty.

And suddenly every smiling broadcast host in the galaxy felt horrifying.

One of the assistants finally spoke again.

“What do we do?”

Veyr opened his eyes.

“The Senate.”

Several researchers immediately looked uncertain.

“The GGS needs this information immediately,” Veyr said firmly. “If this corruption continues unchecked—”

“Unchecked?” another scientist interrupted nervously. “Doctor… this has been happening for thousands of years.”

The room fell silent again.

Because nobody had an answer to that.

Veyr slowly rose from the chair.

“Record everything,” he ordered. “Full backups. Every dataset. Every comparison archive.”

Around the laboratory, researchers immediately began moving between terminals.

The Torthrak scientist walked toward the communications console near the centre of the room.

His hands trembled slightly as he activated the priority channel.

For the first time in decades, Doctor Veyr Talan felt afraid.

Not of death.

Of implication.

The Senate response arrived faster than expected.

A polished symbol of the Grand Galactic Senate rotated slowly above the communications field before resolving into the image of a seated Feldrinian.

For several seconds, Veyr did not recognise her.

Most Feldrinian looked almost identical to non-Feldrinian species — tall grey-skinned beings with oversized hairless heads, vast black eyes, and unnaturally thin bony limbs that appeared too fragile to support their bodies. Their fingers were long and skeletal, every movement controlled with unsettling precision. Even their expressions rarely changed enough for outsiders to distinguish emotion properly.

Only after several moments did Veyr finally recognise the woman from previous Senate conferences.

Director Hestra.

She sat motionless within a pristine white chamber, thin fingers folded neatly together beneath soft overhead lighting. Her enormous black eyes reflected the holographic displays like polished glass, revealing absolutely nothing.

“Doctor Talan,” she said calmly.

Veyr exhaled slightly in relief.

“Director Hestra.”

“I understand you requested immediate scientific oversight authority.”

“Yes.” Veyr nodded quickly. “Director… we discovered a neurological corruption pattern linked to long-term Shimmer exposure.”

The Feldrinian woman remained perfectly still.

Veyr continued speaking rapidly.

“It affects empathic distress processing across all major Senate species. We confirmed it against historic datasets. The pattern is identical across unrelated evolutionary lines.”

Several members of his staff watched nervously nearby.

“The corruption appears selective,” Veyr continued. “Aggression and thrill-response centres increase over time while aversion responses toward violence diminish. Not entirely. Specifically.”

Director Hestra remained silent.

Veyr leaned forward.

“I believe prolonged Shimmer exposure may be altering cognitive development across the galaxy.”

Still nothing.

The Feldrinian woman finally spoke softly.

“Doctor… are your findings verified?”

“Yes.”

“No possibility of archive contamination?”

“We checked everything twice.”

The woman nodded slowly.

“I understand.”

Relief flooded through the laboratory.

Veyr straightened slightly.

“Director, if this reaches the public without preparation—”

“It will not.”

Her response came immediately.

Calm.

Controlled.

Professional.

The Feldrinian folded her hands neatly together.

“Doctor Talan, you and your team are to secure all local data immediately.”

Veyr nodded.

“A Senate scientific recovery team is already en route to Karthis Junction.”

Several researchers visibly relaxed.

“Do not distribute the findings further until central verification is completed,” Director Hestra continued. “The implications of your discovery may affect public stability across multiple sectors.”

“Yes, Director.”

“You’ve done well bringing this directly to us.”

For the first time since the discovery began, Veyr felt the pressure inside his chest ease slightly.

The Senate understood.

The call ended.

The laboratory remained quiet for several seconds afterward.

Then one of the younger researchers laughed nervously in relief.

Another sat back against a console.

“We’re not insane.”

“No,” Veyr murmured quietly.

Outside the observation glass, the Arena veterans continued laughing at the burning aircraft on the screens.

Nobody in the laboratory noticed anymore.

The Galactic News Network theme echoed brightly across millions of screens throughout Senate space.

Golden holographics spiralled elegantly above the anchor desk while soft orchestral music played beneath rotating images of emergency response craft and burning city districts.

The female host smiled professionally toward the camera.

“Breaking news tonight from Karthis Junction, where authorities have confirmed a catastrophic illegal Shimmer Gateway event resulting in the destruction of much of New Carth Vale.”

Behind her, footage displayed collapsing towers beneath violent waves of purple-white energy.

“Current casualty estimates now exceed eleven million citizens, with emergency response fleets continuing rescue operations throughout the system.”

Another image appeared beside the host.

Doctor Veyr Talan.

Smiling during an old Senate science conference.

The caption beneath the image read:

FORMER GGS SCIENCE DIVISION RESEARCHER

“Authorities have identified the lead scientist behind the illegal experiment as Doctor Veyr Talan, a respected former member of the Grand Galactic Senate Science Division.”

The image changed again.

This time showing wreckage drifting through burning skies.

“Investigators now believe Talan’s private research expanded far beyond authorised scientific limits in recent years.”

The broadcast shifted toward a live studio interview.

A Human senator sat calmly beneath soft studio lighting, hands folded neatly together.

“This tragedy is precisely why independent Gateway experimentation remains prohibited throughout Senate space,” he said evenly.

“Not for political control.”

“For public safety.”

The host nodded sympathetically.

“Many viewers are asking how experienced scientists could risk something this dangerous.”

The senator sighed softly.

“Doctor Talan was brilliant. But brilliance without oversight can become recklessness.”

Images of emergency crews continued playing behind them.

Burning districts.

Collapsed transit lines.

Body counts scrolling quietly beneath financial market updates.

The host gave a small laugh.

“Well… if even the space orcs stopped trying to tamper with unstable Gateway systems, you know it must’ve been a terrible idea.”

The Human senator smiled faintly.

“Even humans learn eventually.”

Soft studio laughter followed.

Then the host turned smoothly back toward the camera.

“In other news tonight, betting markets surge ahead of the Celestine Spiral semi-finals as Team Selura continues dominating the Helios Reach qualifiers…”