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What makes something feel real-the experience of it, or the memory?
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She wasn't sure she'd ever really closed her eyes.
But the world had changed-too quiet to be real.
Was this the Second Day?
Or the Day That Never Ended?
The ceiling light flickered on before she realized it had ever been dark.
Though she wasn't sure if it was morning or night.
No drowsiness.
No dream.
No drift between.
She hadn't woken up. She'd been activated.
That white ceiling didn't greet her like a space waiting to be used,
but like something watching her.
No cracks.
No stains.
No sound.
Perfect in a way that felt... wrong.
As if it were observing her.
The walls were too clean, as if rebuilt overnight.
The bed beneath her was too neat.
Blanket still folded.
Sheets unwrinkled, undisturbed.
No imprint.
No proof she'd ever been there.
Had she even slept?
Or had she just been placed here-as an object, not a subject?
She lowered her gaze to the side of the bed.
There was a dark gap beneath it-too dark.
The overhead light didn't reach it,
as though light itself refused to touch that shadow.
For a second, she thought she saw something move down there.
But when she leaned closer... only emptiness.
A void that didn't reflect light.
Like a memory not yet permitted to return.
Like herself, not fully returned.
Three knocks.
Soft.
Precise.
As if tapped out by a device, not a hand.
She opened the door,
but the steps that entered were too human to be mechanical-
and too mechanical to be human.
A woman in a lab coat.
Her face was symmetrical.
Her smile... perfect.
Too perfect.
Like someone imitating a smile from memory.
Like someone she used to know.
Her eyes shimmered without reflection, as if they were not looking at Elara,
but through her.
"Good morning, Elara. It's seven o'clock, as usual."
Elara lifted her head slightly. Her voice was hoarse, though she wasn't ill:
"Who are you?"
The woman replied instantly,
as if the dialogue had been printed on cue cards:
"I'm your Attendant Officer. We'll begin your routine, as usual."
You woke up on time today, Elara. Not like last time.
"Last time?"
Silence.
Elara gripped the edge of the bed.
Her fingers trembled-
not from cold.
"Is this my first day?"
The pause didn't wait. It watched
"You woke up at seven, as usual."
"I mean... is this the first day I've been conscious?"
The smile didn't flicker.
"You woke up at seven, as usual."
The Officer's eyes didn't settle on her face.
They hovered past her skin,
as if seeing something behind Elara.
No background noise.
No hum.
No ticking.
A silence synthesized.
Elara touched the side of the bed.
Warm.
But not from her body.
The Officer raised a clipboard. Her hand scribbled,
but the paper was blank, and the pen carried no ink.
Her motions were like an actor repeating a well-worn cue.
"Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?"
the Officer asked, as if posing a riddle with only one correct answer.
Elara frowned. "Yesterday?"
"But I just woke up today."
Silence. again.
The Officer's smile held-unwavering.
The wall The clock ticked-tick, tick, tick-
but its hands didn't move.
Elara turned her head slowly, noting every detail.
Walls without blemish.
White too white, stripped of context.
Suddenly:
"How long have you been here?"
The sentence wasn't spoken.
Not written.
But heard.
In the room-or in her skull?
Elara shut her eyes for a moment.
There was emptiness in her memory.
But not a hole.
More like... a hole that had been sanded smooth.
A hole painted over.
"You'll adjust quickly," the Officer said. "As usual."
Elara stared at her face, searching for a fracture.
The Officer's eyes didn't meet hers. They aimed through her.
Something was behind.
No-beyond.
Beyond this place entirely.
The chair scraped across the floor.
But no one was there.
Elara stiffened.
She stared at the empty room.
The sound shouldn't have happened.
Her heartbeat echoed.
Then a voice. Calm. Familiar.
"This isn't the first time we've talked."
The words pierced her like a blade from inside.
And like an echo birthed not from sound but recognition,
she saw her own reflection smiling at the Officer-
but it wasn't her smile.
As if her body had played a role she didn't choose.
Shame surfaced.
She felt stupid for asking.
Wrong for feeling out of place.
Strange for feeling anything.
If time only moves in your mind, what does "today" mean?
The Officer stepped back. One motion. Flat.
Then bowed slightly and said:
"You asked me that yesterday."
Elara blinked.
Her heartbeat quickened-not from understanding,
but because her body reacted before her mind could name the threat.
"No... wait. I-I just woke up," she said, her voice trembling,
but more like someone who'd found herself in the middle of a sentence not her own.
Her breath shortened.
But there wasn't enough air in the room.
Or maybe air never existed here,
just a simulation of what should be.
"What are you doing to me...?"
The Officer said nothing.
Just stood there, her smile unchanged,
Like someone observing an experiment tracing its trajectory with clinical precision.
Elara glanced around, eyes wild.
The walls felt too close.
Their whiteness like skin wrapped around her, not space protecting her.
She rose suddenly, knees trembling.
The world tilted slightly.
Or maybe not the world-maybe her memory was misaligned.
A soft chime rang out.
Not from the clock.
From inside her chest?
Like a piece of glass cracking.
She hit her temple, gently.
Once. Twice.
"Stop it. Stop the sound. I've never been here before. I haven't-"
But her mouth pronounced a certainty her body denied.
"Please answer me..."
Her voice came out like a child's whisper,
who realized there were no adults in the room-
only a monster wearing their face.
The Officer closed the door.
Smooth motion. As if she had done it hundreds of times.
And as the door sealed-
Elara knew.
She had seen it close before.
Many times.
But she couldn't remember when.
Or how she knew.
"Somehow... I feel like I need to find something before they come back."
Silence crept in again, but this time... it brought another sound.
Soft. Like a rustling that didn't reach the ears-
but stirred something deeper.
She lowered her feet to the floor. Cold tile beneath her soles.
And there-barely visible-was a faint scratch on the white surface.
A line. Curved.
Like something had been dragged, over and over.
Her fingers followed it.
Then suddenly-
A flash.
As fast as lightning.
"That shadow-it just moved, didn't it? No. But... maybe."
She stood in the corner that always seemed darker.
Like the light refused to reach it.
Shadow pooling on the floor.
A child stood there.
Back turned.
Facing a direction that felt wrong.
Hair messy. Bare feet.
Elara couldn't speak.
But the child spoke-without turning:
"You promised... didn't you?"
The voice came not from outside.
But from memory-
or from something that demanded to be remembered.
A small crack shimmered across the surface of the mirror-
like a wound remembering where to split.
But Elara hadn't noticed.
Not yet.
"I want to get out."
The words fractured,
and for a second, something unfamiliar entered her voice-
as if she weren't pleading,
but remembering that she had begged with those same words,
in the same place,
on a day that never existed on any calendar.
The vision blinked out like a light forcibly extinguished.
Elara sat back down. Breathing heavy.
Her hand still on the line-
but now the floor was spotless. No trace of anything.
She didn't know if it was memory, hallucination,
or a dream implanted.
Pressure throbbed at her temples.
Not a headache.
But a weight-
like a memory not granted permission to surface.
"Who played me... when I wasn't awake?"
"Had I met that woman before? Had I... already woken up?"
She turned to the door.
She was sure the handle had been on the right.
But now... it was on the left.
She closed her eyes.
And in that darkness, she became certain:
It wasn't the room that changed-
It was her, no longer fitting inside it.
A voice stirred inside her.
"You didn't wake from sleep.
You've only just returned... to the script you left behind."