00:49:59
The mirrors hummed softly, vibrating against the wall like the skin of something breathing beneath glass. Isla took one step closer. "Mason? No answer. Only her reflection and the other one, the smiling one. It tilted its head the way she never would, too slow, too deliberate. Then it lifted its hand and pointed, not at her, but at the floor. Isla followed the gesture. Beneath the mirrors, the padding was wet. A small puddle of crimson had formed, seeping outward in uneven circles.
"Mason?" she whispered again. The puddle rippled. She stepped back. A hand broke through, pale, trembling, slick with blood. Then a shoulder, a head. Mason pulled himself out of the floor, gasping for air like a drowning man.
"Don't…." he choked, coughing red into his palm, "…don't listen to it." She rushed forward, but he recoiled violently. "Stay back!" "What happened?" He stared at her as though seeing someone else. "I saw them. Us. Every version. They're trying to finish it."
"Finish what?" "The switch." The mirrors hissed. Static filled the room again. This time, the voice was Isla's, clear, calm, clinical. "Subject 08 responding to synchronization phase. Neural overlap at forty-three percent. Continue exposure." Her breath hitched. "That's my voice." Mason nodded weakly. "You recorded it before you forgot."
"Forgot what?" He smiled faintly. "That you built this." The mirrors flickered. Both reflections now showed Isla, one calm, one terrified. Then, faintly, behind them, the image of a child appeared. A little girl with the same eyes, clutching a stuffed rabbit.
"Mason," Isla said slowly, "why do I remember her?" Before he could answer, his timer skipped. 00:47:00 → 00:53:00 → 00:45:00
He screamed, clutching his wrist as the numbers burned brighter, searing into his skin. The lights strobed violently. The reflection of the little girl pressed her hand against the glass. The voice spoke again: "Begin memory reentry. Phase three complete. Subjects unstable." The walls around them began to melt. Mason staggered forward, grabbing Isla's arm. "We have to move!"
"Where?" she cried. He pointed to the mirror, the smiling reflection now had its hand extended, as if offering her help. "Anywhere but here." They stepped forward as the mirror rippled open like water. The hum rose to a deafening pitch and the world folded inside out.