"Because I will interface with it," I say, my eyes locking onto his. "But not to regulate the energy. To test its safety."
Sterling’s eyes widen slightly. "Luna, the machine is calibrated for a biological generator. If a non-generator interfaces with it, the feedback could be... severe."
"Then you shouldn't have built it," I reply, my voice dropping a fraction, letting the cold, hard steel of my tactical experience bleed into my tone. "Bring out the machine."
Sterling hesitates, then nods to his aides. The velvet tarp is pulled away, revealing the Genesis Regulator.
It is a masterpiece of brutalist engineering, a sleek, angular monolith of polished titanium and dark, sustainably harvested blackthorn wood. But beneath the polished exterior, I can feel it. A cold, parasitic hum. A vacuum
