Your hands fly across the emergency controls as Tanaka's vitals spike into the red zone. The mnemo-scanner shrieks an alarm - a sound like tearing metal - as you slam the cortical detachment lever. The memoryscape collapses inward violently, colors bleeding together like wet ink before dissolving entirely. There's a sickening pop as the neural tendrils retract from Tanaka's temples, leaving angry red welts.

Tanaka convulses in the chair, his back arching unnaturally before collapsing back down. His eyes snap open, pupils still fully dilated, fixed on some invisible horror hanging in the air between you. 'The core...' he rasps, flecks of foam at the corners of his mouth. 'They put it in the core...'

The scanner's display flashes with corrupted data streams, fragmented images of industrial complexes and glowing containment units. You barely have time to register them before the entire system crashes, plunging the chamber into emergency lighting. Distantly, you hear security doors slamming shut throughout the archive facility. Tanaka's body goes limp, his last words hanging in the suddenly frigid air.