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Summary
Alhaitham rubs his forehead. It burns. His brain. Burns in the way that the knowledge capsule is warm to the touch. He should look at it again. He needs to look at it again, peel back those layers, and read between the curled, fine print. One more look, he knows, and he’ll figure it out. Just a little more. A little more—
“Sir?”
Alhaitham blinks. He’d lost the moment entirely. When he looks at Qurban he sees a wrinkle creasing the spot between his eyes. “Water,” he requests, his throat suddenly parched. “Fetch me some water, and I’ll sign these damned reports.”
Alhaitham is gifted a can of forbidden knowledge to study, and things take a turn for the worst. Written for Red, a Corrupted Alhaitham Zine.