“Welcome,” she said. “Please, take a seat. You won’t feel a thing.”
She closed the file. The next passenger was already waiting outside the airlock—a woman with tired eyes who had falsified climate data to expose a corrupt corporation. Her crime: economic sabotage. Her sentence: migration. migration chamber
Elara helped him into the chair. The obsidian surfaces drank the light. She adjusted the cranial clamps herself, softer than the automatic system would. Her fingers brushed his temple. “Close your eyes,” she said. “Welcome,” she said
The old body exhaled for the last time. Elara unstrapped him. Two orderlies in sterile suits lifted the corpse onto a gurney. It would be liquefied by evening. The next passenger was already waiting outside the
“That’s sad.”
“That’s not migration,” Kael said. “That’s murder.”
The migration chamber was the last place anyone wanted to be, yet everyone had to pass through it.