The Dungeon of the Heart
Chapter One: "The Day of the Taking"
At eleven, they take your feelings.
First—joy, then—anger, and finally—love.
What's left are empty stares and a permanent, sterile silence.
That is the price of world peace.
Today, I turn eleven. My name is Jane Hopper.
My mother says nothing. She hasn't spoken in a long time. Her eyes are hollow, but her movements are precise. This morning, she left a clean gray uniform on the edge of my bed, loaded food into the distributor, and disappeared into the work zone.
She knows what's coming. Everyone does.
The ceremony is at 9:00 AM.
They call it "Calibration," but every child in the block knows its real name — The Taking.
You enter with feelings.
You leave without.
They say it doesn't hurt.
But no one smiles to confirm it.
As I walk toward the Center, I observe the people on the street.
They don't laugh. They don't argue. They don't greet one another.
They just walk — an endless, orderly silence.
Cameras are everywhere. Microphones. Impulse sensors.
A world without chaos.
Without truth.
Without warmth.
They line us up. We're all born the same year — 2132.
Today is our turn.
The girl next to me shivers. Instinctively, I reach out to touch her — but pull my hand back immediately.
Touching before the procedure is considered an emotional act.
Forbidden.
The Center door hisses open.
It looks white. Sterile. Like a hospital corridor with no patients.
A voice from the speaker calmly says:
"Citizen 473-B, step forward."
That's me.
I'm afraid of what I will become without emotions.
It has begun…
The machine powers up, but suddenly, a strange sound comes from it.
The doctors try to figure out what's happening, but they quickly realize:
The machine doesn't respond to me.
I am different.
I fear they'll lock me away like a lab rat, run experiments on me.
Suddenly, one of the staff leans in close, as if simply checking the sensors on my body.
His face is expressionless — as it should be.
But when he bends toward my ear, his whisper strikes like lightning through the darkness:
"You're not alone. And you never were."
He looked at me for only a second — not with the vacant stare of the others, but with something else in his eyes. A strange, almost sorrowful spark.
Then he turned and walked away, as if nothing had happened.
I tried to breathe normally, but something inside me trembled.
The machine had shut down. Around me, people discussed the "malfunction."
They said I needed to be taken for analysis.
Analysis meant a lab.
It meant cells.
It meant — the end.
But what did those words mean: You're not alone?
Who are "the others"?
How many like me are there?
Where are they?
In the next moment, someone looked at me and said:
"Subject 12-K must be isolated. Immediately."
Subject.
I was no longer a person.
They sent me to isolation.
But there… I saw something strange.
Something familiar — from my childhood.
Chapter Two: "Subject 12-K"
They took me to a small room with no windows. Only a white bed, a camera in the ceiling corner, and a mirror that wasn't a mirror.
A voice from behind the glass said:
"Subject 12-K, remain still."
I didn't move.
Not because I obeyed.
But because I was thinking.
What made me different?
Why did the machine fail?
And most of all… why did that man whisper to me?
Hours passed. Maybe days. Time didn't exist in this place.
Then, without warning, the wall opened.
A figure entered. Tall. Dressed in black instead of gray.
He said nothing.
Just left a tray with food. And on that tray… a note.
In the world I lived in, notes were illegal.
Words on paper could carry secrets, lies, or worse — emotions.
But this one had only three words:
"Remember the forest."
My heart skipped.
The forest…
A place from my earliest memories.
Before the city.
Before the system.
It was real. I had been there.
With… someone.
But that memory had always been blurry — like a dream half-forgotten.
Now it burned inside me like fire.
They tried to take everything. But they didn't succeed.
Something remained.
Something they couldn't erase.
My name is Jane Hopper.
I am Subject 12-K.
And i remember
Chapter Three: "The Spark of Memory"
That night, I didn't sleep.
The phrase from the note echoed through me like a heartbeat:
"Remember the forest."
They say the past is forbidden.
Memories are filtered at birth.
Only the necessary ones remain — names, numbers, tasks.
But not feelings.
Not places.
And yet, the memory came.
I was six.
Running through green, sunlit trees.
Laughter in the air.
A hand holding mine.
Warm. Strong.
And a voice saying:
"Never forget who you are, Jane."
I didn't know whose voice it was.
But it felt like home.
Then — a sudden sound outside the door.
I stood up.
A click.
The door opened.
The same man in black stood there. This time, he motioned for me to follow.
I hesitated for only a second.
Then ran.
Down gray corridors. Past blinking lights. Past others who didn't even look up.
Finally, a metal door. He opened it with his palm.
Inside — a room full of screens. Maps. Wires.
And people.
People like me.
Children. Teenagers. A few adults.
All of them with something in their eyes that I hadn't seen in so long:
Emotion.
The man turned to me and said:
"Welcome to the Echo."
I didn't understand.
He smiled faintly — the first smile I'd seen in years.
"You're not broken, Jane," he said.
"You're awake."
Chapter Four: "The Echo"
The room buzzed with quiet energy.
Screens flickered. Wires hummed.
But more than that — the air pulsed with something I hadn't felt before.
Freedom.
The man in black spoke again.
His voice calm, but firm.
"I am not your enemy. My name is Kael. I was once like you."
I looked around.
Faces turned to me — curious, cautious, hopeful.
Kael gestured toward a large screen.
It showed the city — our prison.
Clean. Ordered. Cold.
"This is what they want you to see," he said.
"Perfect peace. No memory. No resistance."
Then he pressed a button.
The screen changed.
Images flashed — forbidden ones.
Forests. Oceans. Fire. War. Joy. Pain.
Life.
I gasped. My mind tried to reject it.
But my heart said: yes.
"We are the Echo," Kael said.
"We carry what they erased.
Fragments of truth.
And now, you do too."
I stepped closer.
"Why me?"
He looked at me carefully.
"Because you remembered on your own.
You're rare, Jane.
A spark like that… can light a fire."
I didn't speak.
I couldn't.
Somewhere inside me, a dam had cracked.
And memories — real or not — began to pour in.