⠀⠀⠀"Subject Alpha 6-3-8. Connection successful. Duration maintained at 29 hours. Deceased. Cause of death: Heart attack."

⠀⠀⠀A lithe and calloused finger relinquished the depression it had placed upon a sole toggle, though lingered in a gentle massage of flesh on plastic, as thoughts proceeded to tarry and permeate the dense zephyr. One could say it was the steady percentage of cadavers that filtered through this lab alone that presented such virulent breath, but it was done in the name of science, and therefore, overlooked. The implore for a single vent once more consumed these thoughts, tangling amidst the very stagnation that brought them forth in the first place, and were once again thwarted through reason and understanding, yet still, such a minor luxury in the face of such degradation would be a welcome respite. Pale was the hand that set aside the small recording device after the results were properly logged, as the zipper of the HRP was pulled, sealing what remained within devoid black. Blue were the eyes that found the device responsible for yet another snuffed life, the sounds it adorned so mechanical, yet somehow reenacted the very pace of human lungs almost perfectly.

⠀⠀⠀"This thing should be unplugged...."
⠀⠀⠀"And why is that, Miss Fallia?"
⠀⠀⠀The tensity that stole sharp features framed in auburn was grossly apparent, garnering audible breath from observing nostrils.
⠀⠀⠀"Are you not pleased with the advancements we have made?"
⠀⠀⠀"I-- it's not that, sir."
⠀⠀⠀"Then please, enlighten me."
⠀⠀⠀To be put on the spot, a tactic this man used far too often, for one knew it was almost always a psychological success. Many were never properly prepared or capable of maintaining themselves enough to skirt by with whatever lie they opted to tell. And she was no different, despite her intellect, so she opted for the truth, a dangerous attempt.
⠀⠀⠀"I see very little use in registering more corpses than successes. There has to be another way that we can properly screen these individuals instead of, for lack of a better phrase, sending them to the slaughter. We don't even know what's causing them to perish. If their connection is successful, then they should be able to maintain it. We need to run some diagnostics, sir. Something is wrong and you know it."

⠀⠀⠀Could stagnant air grow even more still? Strangling what remained and silencing all sound? For it sure felt that way, to all involved. The opinions were all the same, yet none had approached their Administrator with their concerns, until now. The gaze that befell her was practically serene, coupled with the subtleties of a smile as hands remained held at his back. Yet, no response surfaced. He merely stared, causing the corner of her lips to twitch in an awkward manifestation of a mimed expression, for she knew not much more to add, especially considering the circumstances. He spoke naught, turning from her then and approaching the exit of the lab containing their prized S.T.E.M. system, before tossing back a glance.

⠀⠀⠀"Thank you for voicing your concerns, Miss Fallia. We will begin a proper investigation into these matters."
⠀⠀⠀Before relief could properly take her, the man snapped his fingers, calling upon two security figureheads to approach her. The grip in which they stole her very physical essence from where she stood was the most solid and painful she had ever experienced, and they did not quell in the slightest as her form was stripped of its badge and surface cloth. The pair then delivered her into one of the chambers situated along the perimeter of the machine's core, strapping her down and holding her still as the needles inserted into her neck, penetrating muscle and bone. It wasn't until the serum had taken affect that their hands left her now bruised and motionless body, the man still maintaining that expression as he left the room.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"Sir?"
⠀⠀⠀"I assume you agree with her?"
⠀⠀⠀"Yes and no. While I believe our research calls for sacrifice in such a degree, the increase of failed connections is a concern. There is talk of malfunction in the machine itself, for everything on our end receives the green light. Perhaps we should consider nullifying tests, and instead sending in recon."
⠀⠀⠀The Administrator turned towards his advisor, inviting him to carry on as they entered the elevator to his office.
⠀⠀⠀"We can use the same methods, and even perform our normal surveillance and research during the trial, but the subject must be chosen carefully, and with the advancements we've made in being able to intervene with what happens inside the system, we should be able to protect such a subject."
⠀⠀⠀"Do you have one in mind?"
⠀⠀⠀"The file is already on your desk, sir."
⠀⠀⠀"Thank you."

⠀⠀⠀The second rescinded on the next floor, leaving the man alone to ascend to the top, and enter his rather lavish office, strewn with modern stone decor and art pieces. For many would step foot here, and it needed to be rather inviting. The file was plucked as he sat down, tilting his head slightly upon reading the hand written tag on the manilla's display tab; ████████.
A few moments were spent reading through the pre-gathered knowledge all collected and organized so cleanly that it was difficult to believe this was truly a person. People were... messy, their lives a spider web of bad choices and unruly decisions that placed them on ever winding and dimly lit pathways. He then picked up the phone, and dialed out.

⠀⠀⠀"Hello, is this ████████? I have a proposition for you."