Saints in a Chip

The hospital corridors stretched out, eerily silent, save for the quick footsteps of a few nurses and a lone doctor darting from one side of the hall to the other—never pausing.

Jude sank into the plastic chair, its edges digging into him as he shifted, trying to ease the dull ache in his lower back. The sterile walls around him seemed to close in while the flickering fluorescent lights cast a harsh, unnatural glow that weighed on his eyelids.

The ER, devoid of the usual bustle of crying children, the hum of machines, or whispered conversations, felt wrong. Yet, he couldn’t say he was surprised. Why would a simulation even need a hospital? It didn’t make sense.

He had lost sight of the Eidolons the moment the staff rushed the apes into the ER. After that, there was nothing—just the disturbing emptiness of the halls. Rows of vacant chairs lined the waiting room, untouched.

It was funny, in a twisted way, how the silence was more unsettling than the chaos he was used to in the real world.

As a distraction, Jude’s mind churned, piecing together the puzzle of the past few days. He started with his arrival—how soldiers like Bart, Tom and Delila had rushed in with their weapons blazing, pretending to fight off the Eidolons. It had seemed real at the time, but later, the truth emerged: mere projections, illusions crafted to deceive.

He’d been thrown into the SiC’s strange system, a game where every move mattered. The rules were clear: solve the puzzles, unlock the map, level up and don't be a jerk. Even good intentions had a way of sneaking up and biting him in the ass. Jude knew that well enough by now.

The more Jude mulled over everything, the clearer it became: the way he approached and cracked each problem directly influenced the difficulty of the next. It wasn’t random. It was a carefully crafted system, designed to test and trap, a smart security measure meant to keep out those who didn’t belong.

The intricacy of it all felt needlessly complex, especially for a SiC. Yet, beneath the layers, there was an undeniable efficiency to it. Twisted, yes, but the logic held firm, a chaotic structure that somehow made sense in its own maddening way. Who would have built it? Was it Dr Cedar? Was it the UGS or someone else?

Jude also felt that people avoided his gaze during the subtle shifts of conversations that danced around certain topics. It was as if everyone was holding onto a secret, something they weren’t willing to share.

It made sense, given his mission—he was here to investigate, after all—a mole.

Everyone knew he was there to check the reports, but the numbers and the statistics felt like a distraction. The deeper he dug, the more it became clear that those figures were only scratching the surface. There was something bigger at play, something hidden, just out of reach. And whatever it was, it felt like everyone around him knew but wasn’t telling.

And were the reports just an excuse to put him in?

And today, the Eidolons appeared—not as the monsters he'd been warned about, trained against, but as something else entirely. They didn’t lunge, didn’t deceive. Instead, they helped. Jude had watched them carry the sick apes, tending to them like caretakers, not enemies. It was the exact opposite of everything he had been told.

This place was supposed to be a war zone, a battlefield where the Eidolons were the enemy, where survival meant fighting against them. But what he saw today didn’t fit that narrative—nothing did.

The questions piled up, and for once, Jude almost didn’t want to know the answers. The less he knew, the better.

Unexpectedly, out of nowhere, with all the empty seats around him, a man chose the one directly beside Jude. Without uttering a word, he towered, easily pushing 2 meters, his presence looming yet strangely calm. Clad head to toe in a dark, scaled jumpsuit, the material gleamed faintly under the hospital's lights. His undercut revealed sharp, pointy ears, with his hair longer on top, falling just enough to frame his rigid features.

In one hand, he held, of four fingers, a bag of ice against his cheek, his expression entirely unmoved, as if pain were a distant concept. His face, perfectly still, had the kind of sculpted precision you’d find in a Renaissance statue—beautiful yet cold, detached from the moment.

Jude wasn’t one to notice details like that, but something about the man’s face drew him. It was striking—disturbing, even.

The man, sensing Jude’s stare, turned his head, his expression unchanged, as if carved from stone. Without any real movement in his face, he spoke, his voice low and husked. "You’re here for the apes?"

Jude blinked, startled by the man’s calm observation. “Yeah... I don’t want to leave without knowing they’re okay.”

The man’s voice remained even, his face as still as ever. “You got them in time. They’ll be okay.” Not a flicker of emotion crossed his features, not even the faintest crease in his brow.

Jude’s eyes lingered on the ice pressed to the man’s cheek. He gestured toward it. “What happened to you?”

“Chipped a tooth. It’s awful,” the man replied, his tone as flat as his expression. The disconnection between his words and his face was mesmerising, and Jude found himself unable to stare away.

“I don’t look it,” the man said, his face still a blank canvas but seemed used to the random curious stare, “but I’m crying with pure agony inside of me. Pure raw pain that makes me question all my existence. It really hurts.”

Jude raised an eyebrow. “After today, I’m ready to believe anything.”

“First time?” the man asked. "That you…?"

Jude shook his head, glancing down at his mud-caked sneakers. “No… I’ve seen them before. Different kind of simulation, though. Not like this.”

The man pressed the ice bag tighter to his cheek, his tone stoic. “It’s tough when your world cracks open, isn’t it? What’s right, what’s wrong—what do you even believe anymore?” He didn't wince, not even slightly, but said, “This really hurts.”

“It feels like my childhood all over again,” Jude muttered. “People are polite enough, but there’s always this gap like they’re afraid I might hurt them or someone.” He attempted a chuckle, but it came out hollow.

The man didn’t blink. “What if they’re keeping their distance to protect you?”

“Protect me?”

The man’s eyes shifted toward Jude, piercing through the quiet. “What happens when you disconnect, Jude? What will they do if you don’t have all the answers? And if you do, will you even want to give them?”

Jude froze, his heart skipping a beat. “I… I never told you my name.”

Before he could press further, the click of heels echoed down the hallway. A nurse appeared, her steps quick. “Paris? The doctor’s ready for you now.”

The man stood, pulling the ice pack away from his face without so much as a wince. He glanced back at Jude, offering a small nod. “See you around, Saint,” he said, as though he knew Jude far more than he let on.

That was Paris.

"Mister? Excuse me, mister?"

Jude blinked awake, his body protesting as he shifted uncomfortably. He had sprawled awkwardly across three hard plastic chairs, and every muscle ached. Groaning, he sat up, rubbing his face in a futile attempt to shake off the stiffness.

When he looked up, a nurse stood in front of him—her blonde hair neatly tied back, her scrub uniform spotless. She had that polished, almost stereotypical look of a nurse.

"Mister?"

Jude blinked, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess. "Uh, yes, sorry. I must’ve dozed off," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair as he fought to keep his eyes open.

"My colleague mentioned you wanted to be notified when the apes woke up. George has asked for you. The others are fine, all out of danger."

"Oh, yeah, right." Jude rose to his feet, still a bit unsteady. "What room?"

"402, fourth floor," she said, already pointing toward the elevators before slipping away.

Jude stepped into the lift, the doors beginning to close when, suddenly, a figure slipped in just before they shut. A woman shorter than him hurried inside, breathing lightly as she settled into the corner. She didn’t wear a nurse's uniform, maybe part of the cleaning staff, he thought.

His eyes, almost reflexively, shifted to her head—bald, smooth. And then to her hands. Four fingers on each. It struck him as odd, not the first person he’d noticed with alopecia in this simulation. Weird trend, he mused, brushing the thought aside as the elevator hummed upward.

The lift dinged for the fourth time, and the doors slid open with a soft whoosh. Stepping out, Jude surveyed the hallway for room 402. The door stood ajar, and inside, he spotted an ape lounging on the bed, dressed in a hospital gown, casually flipping through the pages of a book like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Jude knocked on the doorframe, drawing the ape's attention. "I heard you wanted to talk to me?"

The ape set the book aside with a casual motion, gesturing for Jude to come in. Jude stepped forward and sank into the chair beside the bed.

"So, how are you feeling?"

"Alive," the ape replied. "I heard that's thanks to you, Jude."

The Watcher blinked, caught off guard. "Did I tell you my name?"

"Does it matter?" The ape tilted his head, unconcerned.

Jude leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing loosely. "Not really," he replied with a shrug. "So, did they treat you well?"

The ape's expression twisted with annoyance. "It was awful. Tubes, wires—made me purge everything I’d eaten. And then the needles!"

"Needles?"

"One after the other!" The ape raised his hairy arm, showing off a bandage slapped across it. "They called it ‘vaccines,’" he said, lifting his fingers to mockingly air-quote. "I’m an ape, not a human. Why would I need vaccines?"

"It does seem suspicious," Jude admitted, his brow furrowing. "Vaccinating someone in a simulation... maybe it’s some kind of health boost? Keeps you from disconnecting to an ugly world."

The ape rubbed the bandage on his arm. "I like more health boosts; they sound better, but they hurt."

"Do you know where they’re sending you after this?" Jude asked.

"Yes, I do. They gave us a reservation in B15," the ape said. "Plenty of trees, fruit trees. Some caves too—they say it could be a good spot for our camp. I might even learn to build a shelf and—"

Jude cut him off, his eyes narrowing. "Wait, B15? That’s on the Eidolon side. How’s that supposed to be safe?"

George fell silent, his brow furrowing in confusion. After a long pause, he finally asked, "What are Eidolons?"

Jude blinked, taken aback. "The aliens we’ve been fighting for almost a century, George. How could you miss that? You read books."

The ape scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe I’ve had my nose in them too much because I’ve never heard of that war. And I do enjoy history. But... perhaps you mean something like the Arena?"

"Arena? What Arena?"

"When I first arrived, I heard stories—rumours about humans fighting friends. It was the big thing back then. But I never cared for violence," George said with a dismissive shake of his head. “Couldn’t understand the fun of it.”

"How long ago was that?" Jude asked.

George scratched his head sheepishly. "I’m an ape, Jude. I can read, but math? There is no story on numbers. At least, not one that I know of."

Jude nodded, processing. "So, there was an arena? Did people fight there? Is it still happening?"

George shook his head. "No, they stopped. Guess it lost its appeal. People moved on, started focusing on something bigger, something that matters."

"Like what?"

"Life."

Jude smirked, piecing it together. This wasn’t the kind of information he expected to find, but it added another clue to the mystery. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the real battleground was supposed to be with the Eidolons, not humans fighting friends in some forgotten arena.

"Excuse me, sir," came a soft voice. The woman from the elevator appeared, pushing a cart of food toward the bed. She gently placed the tray on George’s lap. "I added some extra fruit for you. It’ll help you recover faster."

"Thank you so much," George said, nodding appreciatively.

As the woman turned to leave, she paused by Jude, her hand with four fingers resting briefly on his shoulder. "You look like you could use a snack too."

Jude shook his head with a faint smile. "I’m fine, just about to head out anyway."

"Suit yourself," she replied, giving him a quick smile before pushing the cart into the next room.

Jude turned back to George with a grin. "Well, thanks for the chat, George. And try to stay away from any expired meals, yeah?"

George chuckled. "I’ll do my best to be a better ape. And thank you again for saving my life, Saint."

Jude paused mid-step, his body stiffening. It was the second time he heard someone calling him that. "Saint?" he repeated, turning slowly. "Why are you calling me that?"

George looked at him calmly as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Because it’s the right thing to do."

Jude stepped out of the room, his thoughts still tangled with George’s vague hints. As he walked down the hall, he spotted Lazaro and Lucy ahead. Something about Lucy made him pause—she seemed different. Taller, more mature, as if the child he knew a few days ago had aged overnight. She didn’t look like the 8-year-old.

"Maybe I’m just tired", he thought, shaking off the feeling.

But there was no denying the change in her. Her wide smile, full of joy, lit up her face as she caught sight of him, and her eyes shined with something deeper than before.

Jude approached them, the puzzling shift in Lucy still gnawing at the back of his mind. "What are you guys doing here?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Vaccines, exams, the usual check-up," Lazaro replied with a hint of irritation, rubbing his arm. "Got scolded for waiting this long. Pretty sure the nurse gave me the shot extra hard just to make a point. My arm’s killing me."

Lucy, beaming, held up her arm proudly. "I got a pink bandage!" she said, showing off the bright pink and red colours as if it were a badge of honour.

Jude chuckled softly. "Never seen a little princess so thrilled over a bandage," he teased, but before the words fully left his mouth, Lucy’s smile faltered, her eyes welling up with sudden emotion.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she blurted out, "I’m not sick anymore. I’m not sick, and I won’t ever again. I’m free from chemo, and... and..." Her voice cracked with excitement, her words tumbling out in a rush, barely coherent. But before she could say more, she suddenly stopped.

Jude’s gaze shifted to Lazaro, who stood stiffly beside her, his hand gripping Lucy’s just a little too tightly. The subtle tension in his face made Jude pause—something felt off.

"Well, that’s great to hear," Jude said, choosing not to press. He smiled, trying to shift the mood. "So, what’s our next quest, guys?"