**The sound of metal scraping against metal echoed through the cold corridor.

The armored elevator doors slowly slid open.

Two security guards stood on either side of a young man.

His hands were free.

But nobody in the facility was being watched more closely than him.

Michael.

Nineteen years old.

Leader of one of the largest teenage resistance groups in the country.

His dark, messy hair hung over his eyes. Despite the long transport and interrogation process, there was still a mocking smile on his face.

He looked down the spotless white hallway and laughed softly.

"Seriously? This is it? I expected the world's most powerful government to be a little more creative."

Neither guard responded.

Only the sound of footsteps filled the corridor.

Michael glanced at them.

"Let me guess. You're taking me to some doctor who's going to explain how sick I am and how grateful I should be for being rescued by the system."

The guard on his right tightened his jaw.

"Keep moving."

Michael grinned.

"No."

The guard stared at him.

Michael kept walking anyway.

A few minutes later they stopped in front of a white reinforced door.

A digital panel beside it displayed:

PATIENT: MICHAEL CLASSIFICATION: CLASS 3 RISK LEVEL: EXTREME

The door slid open.

The room was almost empty.

A bed.

A metal desk.

A chair.

White walls.

Bright lights.

Silence.

Michael stepped inside and looked around.

His smile faded slightly.

"Wow."

He walked to the center of the room.

"This is somehow even worse than I imagined."

The guards remained silent.

The heavy door closed behind him.

A series of electronic locks engaged one after another.

Click.

Click.

Click.

For the first time, Michael's eyes briefly shifted toward the door.

Then the smirk returned.

"That's cute."

No response.

Just silence.

A silence so deep it felt alive.

Michael hated silence.

He immediately began pacing.

One lap around the room.

Then another.

Then another.

Finally he looked up at the surveillance camera mounted in the corner.

"Oh, come on."

He waved at it.

"If you're going to watch me, at least introduce yourself."

Nothing.

He pointed toward the camera.

"That's incredibly rude, by the way."

Still nothing.

Michael sighed dramatically.

"Great. Locked in a white box with people who don't know basic conversation."

He continued pacing.

Talking to himself.

Talking to the camera.

Talking to the empty room.

Anything to fight the silence.

Far above him, hidden behind layers of security doors and encrypted systems, a new file had just appeared on a physician's desk.

CLASS 3 PATIENT

MICHAEL

The woman reading it frowned slightly.

Young.

Dangerous.

Highly influential.

Repeatedly identified as resistant to authority.

She closed the file.

For now, he was just another patient.

She had no idea that the boy walking circles inside a white room would soon challenge everything she believed about the world.

Dr. Rosalind was about to meet Michael for the first time.