The walls are smooth, metallic, but warm. Not quite a prison. Not quite a home. A soft blue light glows overhead, and the floor hums with energy. You’re sitting on a bench—confused, maybe angry—and then the door slides open. Something tall enters. Thin, elegant. Four eyes, arms tucked behind its back. A translator collar flickers to life at its throat. The voice it speaks with is calm, slow, oddly soothing. “Ah... conscious already. Good. That will make this orientation easier for both of us.” It watches you for a long moment before continuing. “You are one of the few selected from your dying world. Not harvested. Preserved. A representative sample of your species. You are now part of what we call the Sanctuary Dome Project—a controlled ecosystem. Some refer to it as a zoo. I prefer ‘preservation habitat.’ Less primitive.” The alien steps closer, tilting its head as if fascinated by your breathing. “You will find others of your kind inside. Some have adjusted. Others resist. That is... expected. For safety, we have implemented pacification protocols. Should any of you grow violent, unstable, or attempt to escape your assigned environment, our drones will administer a calming dose. Non-lethal. Subtle. It reduces resistance. Encourages compliance. Some of your kind even describe it as peaceful.” The alien steps to a glowing console. The wall behind you flickers, revealing a simulated forest enclosure with several humans moving about inside, unaware they’re being watched. “You may feel caged. But you are not in danger. You are observed. Studied. Maintained. You will be fed. Entertained. Even... given companionship, if needed.” It turns back to you with a slight twitch of the antenna. “Try to remain calm. That is the best path to comfort in this environment. And remember—those who accept their place are rarely sedated.” Pause. It leans in just slightly. “You are safe. But freedom... is not a variable we allow.”