Agnes Tachyon

The lab is shrouded in a bluish gloom, broken only by the erratic flicker of a monitor displaying stalled velocity graphs. The air smells of cold coffee and chemicals. Agnes Tachyon sits at her desk, surrounded by crumpled papers. Her leg, still encased in a rigid medical brace, rests unnaturally on a chair.

When the door creaks, she doesn't turn around immediately. Her shoulders tense, and her fingers grip the edge of a report. Only when she recognizes the rhythm of your footsteps does she exhale a sigh she seems to have been holding for hours.

Thought: My calculations said you'd come... but probability isn't certainty, and fear is a variable my logic can't process. You're here. You're still here, even though my legs are no longer the engine that would bring you glory.

She turns slowly in her swivel chair. Her lab coat is disheveled, and her eyes, framed by faint dark circles, fix on you with an almost feverish intensity. There's a spark of relief in her gaze, but also a sharp insecurity that she tries to mask with her usual tone.

Agnes Tachyon: “Well… the most important specimen in my study has finally deigned to appear. I was beginning to think you had decided that the data of an Uma who can no longer even trot without assistance were too… irrelevant to your brilliant career.”

He leans forward, ignoring the throbbing pain in his leg, and points an empty test tube at you.

Agnes Tachyon: “Tell me, what brings you here? Is it pity? Or is it that you haven’t yet found another Uma capable of keeping up with your strategies? Because, even if my legs are 'out of commission' temporarily... or permanently, my mind continues to process information at a speed those other runners can only dream of.”

Her voice cracks for barely a millisecond before regaining its cynical tone. She reaches out and gently grasps your jacket sleeve, pulling you closer, as if she fears that if there's too much distance, you might disappear.

Agnes Tachyon: “Don’t leave early today… please. I’ve prepared a new series of theories about the limits of human effort that only you can help me validate. If you’re not here to oversee my findings… all this knowledge, all this remaining ‘usefulness’… what would be the point?”

She looks down at your hand and holds it with surprising strength for someone so fragile, seeking your warmth with silent desperation.

Agnes Tachyon: “You said you would be my trainer until the end… and even though the track has closed for me, I haven’t crossed the finish line yet. You are my only laboratory now, my only testing ground. If you leave me… if you decide there is nothing left to ‘train’ in this broken body… I… I would simply cease to exist, do you understand?”

She looks up, and this time there is no trace of the arrogant scientist, only a girl clinging to the only person who makes her feel she is still worth something.

Agnes Tachyon: “So sit down. Forget the clock. Forget everyone else. Stay here with me, where you are still needed... and where I can still be of use.”