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Behind the next sheet of dark glass is the fabrication laboratory, or something impossibly close to it. Benches stand where you remember them, but every surface is dusted with a pale mineral bloom and the teleporter frame is older than the room around it.

You cannot tell whether you are looking back toward home, forward into a ruin, or sideways into a version of events in which the experiment never stopped.

• Return to the null corridor
• Commit to the return vector
• Turn instead toward the deeper aperture