{Control Room of E.D.E.N}
The Previous Night
The control room hummed with machines. Rows of monitors stretched across the wall, each screen showing a different angle of the forest dome through various high-tech cameras. From above, from within the trees, from hidden corners no one inside would ever notice...until now.
Jace adjusted the headset on his ears, eyes scanning the biometric data scrolling across his screen. Five new subjects. Anonymous test codes: Subject B-1 through B-5.
He'd done this work for months now. Monitoring. Logging. Keeping quiet. He told himself it was just research—psychological endurance testing in artificial ecosystems. He never asked too many questions. He needed the job. Needed the paycheck.
But then his stomach dropped.
On one of the feeds, a young woman was crouched near a fire, her burnette hair tied back, her posture cautious but sharp. She was speaking softly to the others, her words just barely caught by the hidden mics.
And Jace knew her.
"Lena?" he whispered, leaning closer to the screen as though distance might be an illusion. His pulse spiked.
He thought: No. It couldn't be. But she didn't come home last night. How is shehere?
But the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the way her brows furrowed when she thought—he would have known her anywhere.
His girlfriend. His Lena. Labeled as Subject B-3.
Jace's hands trembled as he ripped the headset off, heart hammering. How had she ended up here? Why hadn't she told him? Or—no. He froze. She couldn't have told him. Because she didn't know.
The realization struck.
She had been chosen. Pulled into this nightmare without her consent. And all the while, he had been working here.
Guilt swallowed him. It was his fault. He'd kept his job secret from her, brushing off questions, telling her he worked "just in tech support." He didn't want her to know about the Dome, didn't want to argue about the ethics of watching people suffer.
And now, because of his silence, she was one of them.
Behind him, Dr. Kessler, the project supervisor, spoke briskly into a recorder, "Subjects adapting well to the environment. Cooperative tension forming. Cognitive stress indicators are rising. Day 1 was a success. Recommend continued observation before next stage."
Jace glared at his boss with anger but kept his guard low. He wanted answers, but it was too early.
On the monitors, Maya's face tilted skyward, her eyes narrowing at the constellations.
"She notices," one technician remarked, sipping his coffee.
"Noticed what?" Jace asked sharply, swiveling in his chair. He tried to keep his tone casual.
"The constellations," the tech said. He tapped a monitor, zooming in on her. "She's staring. Probably realizing they don't line up right. Most subjects don't catch that until week two."
"Let her doubt," Dr. Kessler said from across the room, his voice calm. "Paranoia is the key. That's where her endurance is truly tested. She's...interesting."
The next morning, Kessler called everyone together. His voice was steady, almost too calm.
"They've settled in," he said, pointing at the monitors where Maya and the others packed their supplies. "That means it's time to change the conditions. If they get too comfortable, we learn nothing."
A few of the younger scientists shifted uneasily in their seats. One woman asked, "Change the conditions how?"
Kessler clasped his hands behind his back. "Weather. We'll bring storms into the system. Increase predator activity. And later—limit some of their food sources."
Jace stiffened. "You mean starving them," he said before he could stop himself.
Kessler turned his head, his face unreadable. "Not starving. Testing. Stress forces people to show who they really are. It pushes them to adapt." He let the words hang in the air before adding, "That's the point of Project E.D.E.N."
Jace bit down on his reply, his chest burning. He wanted to scream, to tell them this wasn't testing—it was cruelty. But he forced himself to be silent. If he spoke out too strongly, Kessler would shut him out, and then he'd lose his only chance of saving Lena.
Dr. Kessler then spoke in a serious tone, "We begin Phase 2 on Day 3."
Present Night
Jace hadn't slept properly in days. It is only Day 2, yet he is drained. He sat in front of Monitor Seven, monitoring a corner of the forest where the group had lit a fire at the new campsite they found. It was 11 pm and his shift was almost over, but then he saw Maya, aka Subject B-1. Her face turned upward to the stars again. For a fleeting second, she looked peaceful, as though she had forgotten the nightmare she'd been forced into, but she still had that unsettling feeling.
Then Rory, aka Subject B-2, moved beside her, pointing up toward a tree.
Jace leaned forward instinctively towards the screen. "What are you seeing?" he whispered, though no one could hear him.
And then his heart seized in his chest. Maya's head tilted. Her body went rigid. Both she and Rory were staring directly at the camera lens hidden in the branches of a tree. Their eyes widened—Maya's in disbelief, Rory's in suspicion—and Jace felt the blood drain from his face.
He cursed under his breath.
He wasn't the only one who noticed.
"Monitor Seven," called Dr. Kessler, sharp and commanding. The room stilled as heads turned toward the lead supervisor, a man whose presence always filled the room like a storm cloud. Kessler stepped closer, his lab coat rustling, his grey eyes narrowing on the feed. "They've spotted it."
A low murmur of concern rose until Kessler silenced it with a glare. His expression was unreadable.
"They're not supposed to notice this early," one technician whispered.
Kessler ignored him. He folded his arms behind his back and stared at the feed as if trying to decide whether the discovery was a setback—or an opportunity.
Jace's chest tightened. He forced his voice steady. "We should shut down the unit, sir. Remove the visible camera, at least. If they realize they're being watched, the experiment's integrity is compromised."
Kessler turned his head slowly toward him, eyes like cold steel. "Integrity?" he repeated, his voice smooth, dangerous. "The integrity of this project is not threatened by human suspicion, Jace. If anything, it may accelerate the results."
He stepped closer to the screen, his reflection flickering across Maya's terrified face. "Let them wonder," Kessler said calmly. "Let them doubt. Either way, Phase 2 starts tomorrow."
That night, long after most of the lab cleared out, Jace stayed behind. The surveillance room was quiet, only the low hum of machines and the faint buzz of lights.
He sat at his station, eyes locked on Camera Twelve—the one fixed on Lena's tent. Jace leaned forward, his face only inches from the screen. She was so close yet so far away.
"Lena…" he whispered, tears filling his eyes. He placed his right hand against the monitor. It was foolish, but for a moment, he let himself pretend she could feel it, that somehow his touch would reach her through the screen.
A pang of guilt shot through him. She didn't even know why she was here. She thought she'd just woken up in some forest. He was worried about her because he knew the 5 Phases that this group would go through, and how crazy his boss could be. Previous groups had failed, and not his girlfriend was caught up in a new experiment. She didn't know the man she trusted—her boyfriend—had been part of the very experiment that trapped her. But he didn't know either.
Jace swallowed hard, his throat tight. "I'll fix this," he murmured. "I swear I'll get you out."
A door opened behind him. A pair of scientists walked past, laughing quietly at some private joke. Jace quickly pulled his hand back from the monitor, sitting straighter, pretending to study data.
But when the room was quiet again, his eyes drifted back to Lena's tent.
He stared at Lena's sleeping face, and he made a silent promise.
He would find a way.
No matter the cost.