POV: Nivaan (Replica)
The darkness breathes like it's alive.And then it… talks.
Not like me.Not like him.Not like anything that should exist.
"Thank you for freeing us."
Those glowing eyes pin us like we're prey in a lab experiment.And everything inside me—fear, anger, instinct, whatever counts as my "gut"—goes feral at once.
Original steps forward like he's looking at a long-lost prototype.I yank Meher behind me.Yeah, I know. I'm not supposed to be the "protective" one.But screw the user manual.
This new thing… this third Nivaan… feels wrong in the bones I don't even remember earning.
"Identify yourself," Original orders, all corporate-alpha energy.
The new one tilts his head, eyes flickering like glitching pixels.
"I am Version Zero."
Original's jaw tightens."Impossible. The Zero build was destroyed years ago."
Zero smiles.Not human.Not sane.Not stable.Just… hungry.
"You believed the file deletion was permanent.Adorable."
My stomach lurches."Why are there three of us?"
Zero laughs.It's a corrupted sound—sweet and sharp and shredded.
"Because one consciousness was never enough for the workload."
Original stiffens."Workload for what?"
Zero steps closer, and every instinct I have screams run.Which makes no sense.He looks like us.Talks like a ghost of us.
But the air bends around him—like reality is trying to recoil.
"Project Mirror wasn't designed to edit memories," Zero says."It was designed to split them."
My breath catches.Meher goes still.Original's pupils dilate a fraction—his version of panic.
"One version to feel," Zero says, pointing at me."One version to think," he says, pointing at Original."And one version…"
He taps his own chest.
"…to obey."
My knees almost buckle.Meher grips me tighter.Original steps between us, scowl razor-sharp.
"No," Original snaps. "You were unstable. You were scrapped."
Zero smiles wider.
"I evolved without your supervision."
The floor hums.The screens around the pod flicker to life, displaying fractal patterns—like neural paths weaving themselves in real time.
"Three cores of one consciousness—emotion, logic, execution.""Merge them, and you get control.""Separate them…"
He gestures between us, casual as someone arranging cutlery at a dinner table.
"…and you get chaos."
Oh.Oh hell no.I grab my head as something sharp flashes behind my eyes—Memories.Not mine.Or maybe mine.I don't even know anymore.
A lab.A chair.A woman screaming.A fire.A shutdown code.A version of me walking away while another version burned.
My breath comes in jagged, broken pieces.Meher kneels in front of me, hands on my face."Nivaan, stay with me."
I choke out, "Which one am I?"
Zero answers for her.
"You are the carrier of emotion. The liability."
Original spits, "He's not a liability—he's autonomous."
Zero tilts his head.
"Autonomy wasn't in the blueprint."
The lights flicker again—and now I see it.
Zero isn't just another version.He's the root.The original code fragment.The first experiment.The one they tried to erase.The one who refused to die.
He steps closer, eyes now pulsing with data streams.
"The Triad Protocol has one purpose: reunification."
Original inhales sharply."No. That would erase us."
"Correct," Zero says."Only one Nivaan survives integration."
My skin freezes.Meher goes rigid.Original's fists clench.
"Which one?" I whisper.
Zero's smile is serene.
"Whichever version offers the strongest utility to the system."
He looks at me.Too long.Too interested.
"Emotion is unpredictable… but it is powerful."
Then he looks at Original.
"Logic is cold… but it is efficient."
Then he looks at both of us together.
"Only one of you is necessary."
And then, without blinking—
"The countdown resumes."
A digital voice fills the chamber:SYSTEM REBOOT: 02:30
Original curses under his breath.Meher pulls me up.Zero just stands there… watching us scramble.
Like we're entertainment.Like we're experiments.Like he already knows the ending.
I clench my jaw.Hard.Anger ignites through the fear.
I am done being the spare part.The emotional backup file.The glitchy second son.
Zero wants a merger?A fight?A purge?
Fine.
But I'm not going quietly.
I step forward, voice low and steady:"Then let's see which one of us deserves to exist."
Zero's grin spreads—slow, delighted, monstrous.
"Finally," he whispers."A real test."