Bonto opened his eyes. He was in his apartment in the Lower Tiers. The water pumps were humming. The terrarium was intact. And Rento—small, alive, holding a toy spaceship—looked up and smiled.
“Bonto,” crackled the voice of his handler, the scarred engineer Aka. “The NSP is live. But listen to me. The more you rewind, the more the memory fragments. You’ll start to forget why you’re fighting. Use it sine mora . Without hesitation. Without delay .” sine mora nsp
Snap.
Silence. Then: “...You didn’t name him. You were waiting for the war to end.” Bonto opened his eyes
The last thing the chronometer said was: Sine Mora. Without delay. The terrarium was intact
“Bonto,” Koldy’s voice was a grandfather clock’s chime. “You’ve used the NSP 147 times. Do you know what that means? You have lived 147 extra deaths. And each time, you have forgotten a little more of the love that made you angry. You are no longer a father. You are a loop . A broken gear.”