Anomaly

Chapter 418 – Human limitations

(POV – Victor Hale)

Victor had never felt this uneasy before. Anyone could say he was being paranoid, and honestly, they’d probably be right. Victor himself knew that better than anyone. Still, in the world as it was now, paranoia seemed like one of the few ways left to preserve your sanity.

With the constant fear of anomalies hanging in the air like an invisible yet suffocating fog, living on edge was no longer an overreaction, it had become a basic necessity. If you weren’t at least a little unhinged to keep moving forward in this new world, then sooner or later, it would swallow you whole.

Victor unconsciously tightened his fingers, feeling his nails lightly dig into his palm. Something big was about to happen. Call it intuition, instinct, or pure irrational fear, it hardly mattered.

He couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that massive, ancient gears, far beyond human comprehension, were turning relentlessly somewhere just outside his perception.

An indifferent, inevitable mechanism operating at full speed, as if preparing the stage for something far greater. Something final. And in Victor’s mind, he couldn’t get rid of the image of those gears inching closer and closer to completing their cycle, slowly approaching an unavoidable climax.

As he walked through the facility’s corridors, Victor let out a long sigh, the kind that seemed to carry the accumulated weight of sleepless nights and endless thoughts. He ran a hand through his hair out of habit, almost as if such a simple motion could somehow dispel the tension that had been building in his shoulders over the past few days. Nothing had happened... yet. And maybe that was exactly what bothered him the most.

Lately, Victor had been carrying the persistent feeling that something was on the verge of falling apart at any moment, like being trapped in the seconds leading up to an inevitable explosion. The fact that nothing had happened so far brought him no peace, if anything, it only made things worse.

Victor was good at predicting when things were about to go wrong. Irritatingly good, to be honest. Almost like a cursed talent acquired after spending enough years watching situations spiral into the worst possible outcomes. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a skill he felt any gratitude for.

After all, sensing that something bad was coming didn’t mean having the ability to stop it. In practice, all this so-called instinct ever gave him was preemptive anxiety, constant paranoia, and the deeply unpleasant feeling of waiting for a tragedy whose script had already been written while being powerless to change even a single line.

Still lost in his thoughts, Victor crossed the corridor located on the upper levels of the facility. His footsteps echoed softly against the impeccably polished floor while the cold recessed lights in the ceiling cast an impersonal glow across the space.

As he approached his destination, the door ahead recognized his presence and slid open with a quiet mechanical hiss. On the other side, Victor stepped into the organization’s cafeteria.

The place was spacious and surprisingly well-designed, far different from what one might expect from a facility dedicated to research and operations.

Long tables were neatly arranged throughout the hall, some occupied by agents speaking in hushed tones, others by researchers still absorbed in tablets or paperwork even during their meals.

The pleasant aroma of freshly prepared food lingered in the air, making the atmosphere feel unexpectedly welcoming. If there was one thing Victor had to give the organization credit for, it was definitely this cafeteria.

The food was genuinely good, good enough to feel almost out of place. The dishes were on par with those served in five-star restaurants, featuring fresh ingredients, impeccable presentation, and a level of culinary care that clearly received generous funding.

Of course, there were meals on an even higher level, true gourmet experiences that could easily be described as unforgettable, but those came at a price. And naturally, all of those “gourmet” meals had to be paid for.

Because of that, the overwhelming majority of agents and researchers stuck to the free meal options provided daily. Even so, calling those meals “basic” would have been almost insulting. The difference in flavor between them and the premium dishes wasn’t nearly as dramatic as Victor had initially expected.

The organization seemed to understand that keeping its employees at least moderately satisfied was far more efficient than feeding them bland, flavorless garbage. On top of that, the prices for the specialty meals weren’t outrageous.

Not cheap enough for everyday consumption, but affordable enough that anyone particularly picky about food could indulge in one of those luxuries a few times a month.

Victor occupied a strange middle ground when it came to food. Some days, he felt a nostalgic craving for well-made meals, hot dishes, properly seasoned, and at least somewhat appetizing. On others, anything remotely edible was enough to silence his stomach without further ceremony.

After briefly scanning the available options, he picked a few dishes that seemed acceptable, nothing extraordinary, but pleasant enough for the moment, and made his way to one of the empty tables in the cafeteria.

The room was busy as usual, filled with the occasional clinking of silverware, trays scraping against metal surfaces, and the constant murmur of dozens of overlapping conversations. Victor began eating in silence, chewing slowly while letting his attention drift through the random discussions happening around him.

For the most part, the conversations were predictable: agents commenting on sudden transfers to other divisions, speculating about new security protocols, or quietly complaining about particularly demanding superiors.

Further down, researchers voiced their frustration with long, exhausting projects, grumbling about sleepless nights, endless reports, and experiments that seemed incapable of producing results. In the end, they were just routine complaints, small everyday vents shared among coworkers trying to survive another work shift.

Or at least, as ordinary as anything could possibly be in a place like this. After all, the concept of “normalcy” took on some rather peculiar meanings when you worked for an organization where practically everyone, without exception, dealt on a daily basis with situations capable of making any ordinary person seriously reconsider their life choices.

It was in the middle of the whirlwind of thoughts consuming his mind that Victor was abruptly pulled from his trance by a dull thud right in front of him. The sound echoed across the table, making him lift his gaze almost on instinct.

When his eyes finally focused, he was met with Rupert staring back at him, a faint amused smile tugging at his lips: “I thought you were ignoring me on purpose, but apparently that’s not the case”

Rupert let out a quiet breath through his nose and shook his head, his relaxed expression sharply contrasting with the obvious tension hanging in the air around them. Without much ceremony, he pulled out a chair and sat down across from Victor, resting one arm casually on the table.

“Things don’t seem to be going too well lately” His voice lost part of its casual edge, dropping into something quieter and more serious: “People are scared. There are rumors everywhere... a lot of people think a mass anomaly breakout is about to happen”

Rupert paused briefly, watching Victor’s reaction before continuing: “And honestly? Some people are convinced this could be the beginning of the end. That this time, there won’t be containment, no possible response... just enough chaos to drive humanity to extinction”

Victor watched Rupert begin eating his lunch while intrusive thoughts continued circling in the back of his mind. Eventually, however, they were all scattered when he let out a long sigh heavy with frustration, lightly resting his elbow on the table: “I can’t really blame them for thinking that way...” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face before continuing: “What happened a few weeks ago was pretty... discouraging”

The words lingered in the air for a few seconds before Victor fell silent. His gaze then shifted toward Rupert, who remained fully focused on calmly devouring his meal as if the outside world simply didn’t exist.

There wasn’t a trace of worry, tension, or even discomfort on his face, just the casual dedication of someone whose greatest concern at the moment was finishing his own plate.

Victor raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued: “By the way, you seem weirdly calm about all of this” He leaned forward slightly, studying him more carefully: “I figured you’d be... less sane and considerably more paranoid. I mean, that’s usually your natural state even when we’re not on a mission” There was a faint teasing tone in Victor’s voice, subtle but enough to reveal the familiarity between the two.

Rupert shrugged without pausing his meal for even a second. He kept chewing with the ease of someone completely unbothered: “I guess so... I mean...” He paused briefly, bringing another bite to his mouth as though he were more focused on the taste of the food than on his own words. Only after swallowing did he continue, still in the same casual tone.

“What exactly am I supposed to do? I’m just human. We all are” Rupert set his utensils down on the plate for a moment, leaning back slightly in his chair: “Even if something does happen, the most we’d realistically be able to do is evacuate a few civilians before everything goes to hell. And that’s being optimistic”

His voice carried neither despair nor fear, only a quiet sense of acceptance: “I guess I’ve just started thinking that whatever’s going to happen, there’s nothing I can do to stop it. So... why should I waste energy worrying about it?”

Rupert shrugged again, a simple automatic gesture, before finally looking up at Victor. There was a strange serenity in his gaze, like someone who had already made peace with his own insignificance in the face of greater forces: “My dear Victor” he said with a faint half-smile: “whatever will be, will be” Rupert folded his arms over the table, leaning forward just slightly: “No matter how much we mere humans try to interfere, there are some things simply beyond our ability to control”

Rupert returned his attention to his food immediately afterward. A subtle smile rested lazily at the corner of his lips, making it seem as though he was genuinely savoring every bite and enjoying this rare moment of peace.

Victor, on the other hand, released another sigh, so low and restrained that hardly anyone nearby would have noticed it. He slowly leaned back against his chair, letting it creak softly beneath his weight as his gaze drifted upward until it settled on the cafeteria ceiling. His mind, however, was elsewhere.

Thoughts branched in countless directions, sketching scenarios, possibilities, and probable futures in rapid succession. Conflicts, losses, decisions, roads with no return. Victor analyzed each one almost compulsively, as if repeatedly going through the exercise might somehow reveal a hidden way out.

But there wasn’t one. Unfortunately, in none of those mental projections could he see any real way around what was coming. No matter how many variables he considered or how many strategies he mentally constructed, the outcome always seemed to converge toward the same inevitable conclusion.

As Rupert had pointed out, at the end of the day, they were only human. And humans, no matter how resilient, intelligent, or stubborn they might be, were still limited creatures, fragile organisms made of flesh, bone, and blood, destined to break under enough pressure.