The first day without food felt like punishment.
The second felt like silence.
By the third, it started to feel like the walls were breathing with them.
The lights never turned off, never dimmed. There was no clock, no day, no night — just the hum of the white room and the faint vibration in the air, like electricity whispering in their bones.
Maya had stopped talking. Leo paced until his steps became a rhythm, something to keep his mind from unraveling. Jordan muttered to himself sometimes, tracing invisible shapes on the wall. Derek tried to stay calm, but hunger made his thoughts blur and loop, like a record skipping the same note again and again.
And Eva…
Eva didn't seem hungry at all. She sat still in her corner, eyes half-closed, breathing slow, almost meditative. Every now and then, she'd whisper something too soft to hear — like she was reciting instructions from a voice only she could listen to.
On the third night — or what felt like night — a sound echoed through the room.
A soft hiss.
The floor vents slid open, and something began to pour in.
A faint white mist.
At first, no one reacted. It looked harmless, almost like steam. But then Derek's chest tightened. Maya coughed. Jordan stumbled backward. Leo tried to shout something, but the words never came out.
The world tilted sideways.
The last thing Derek saw was Eva's face through the haze — calm, almost peaceful — before everything went black.
---
When he woke, the silence was different. Heavy.
He wasn't in the same room anymore.
The walls were still white, but this place felt colder. There was no hum now, no light panels on the ceiling — just a pale glow from somewhere he couldn't see. He tried to move, but his arms wouldn't respond. Neither would his legs.
He was lying on something hard and metallic, and there was a faint scent of chemicals in the air.
Derek blinked. There was a soft chime above him, and then a voice — smooth, calm, mechanical.
> "Subject D-14. Cognitive activity restored."
He froze. The voice didn't sound human.
> "Emotional instability detected. Increase observation frequency."
The sound faded, replaced by a faint clicking — like typing.
Derek tried to speak, but his throat burned. The words came out dry, broken. "Where… where am I?"
No answer.
Then a shadow moved across the light above him — something humanoid, wearing the same silver mask as the creature from before. The figure leaned over him briefly, adjusting something he couldn't see, and then turned away.
His heart raced. He wanted to fight, to scream, but his body wouldn't move. The lights dimmed again, and the room seemed to dissolve into fog.
---
Elsewhere, Maya woke up too.
She was sitting upright, strapped to a chair in a small white space that pulsed faintly with light. Her reflection stared back from the wall opposite her — not a mirror, but glass.
Someone was watching.
She could feel it.
There were whispers behind the glass, low and fragmented. Every so often, a light blinked red.
Then the voice came — the same one that had spoken to Derek.
> "Subject M-09. High stress. Elevated heart rate. Begin emotional analysis."
The room darkened slightly. The walls began to change color — slow, shifting tones of gray and blue, as if responding to her pulse.
> "Describe what you remember," the voice said.
"I— I don't…" Maya swallowed. "Where are my friends?"
> "Describe. What. You. Remember."
"I said—"
But before she could finish, the room vibrated, a deep resonant hum that pressed against her skull. Her breath quickened.
The glass flickered — for a moment she thought she saw faces on the other side. Dozens of them. Watching. Writing. Not blinking.
And then the walls shifted again, soft white patterns forming symbols she didn't understand.
Her reflection smiled.
She didn't.
---
Leo woke to darkness. Not complete — just enough to disorient him. His hands were free, but the floor beneath him was cold, smooth. He tried to find a wall, but every direction felt the same.
Then lights blinked on one by one around him, revealing screens floating in the air.
Each screen showed… himself. Different versions — one angry, one terrified, one calm. Some were older, some younger.
They all moved differently, out of sync.
Then they started speaking, overlapping.
> "You should've fought harder."
"You should've saved them."
"You can't fix anything, Leo."
"You ran once. You'll run again."
He backed away, covering his ears, but the voices didn't stop. They were inside his head now.
> "Observation complete," said the calm mechanical tone. "Subject exhibiting cognitive fragmentation. Proceed to Phase 2."
He screamed. But the sound didn't echo. It was swallowed by the room.
---
Jordan woke last.
His room was identical to the others — sterile, white — but unlike the rest, there was music playing. A calm, soothing melody.
He recognized it.
It was the same tune he used to play at the museum, back when life was still normal. Back before all this.
He started crying before he even realized it.
Then, through the soft melody, came a whisper — faint, almost human.
> "Do you remember who you are, Jordan?"
He froze.
The whisper came again, closer this time.
> "Do you remember why you were chosen?"
He looked around. No one was there.
The walls flickered, showing flashes — his friends, the camp, the monster — and then something else: a white room filled with silver-masked figures, standing over him.
> "You were never supposed to wake up."
---
And somewhere, in another chamber, Eva stood alone.
She wasn't restrained. She didn't need to be.
Her eyes were open, but her expression was blank. A dozen monitors glowed softly around her, each one showing a different room — Derek, Maya, Leo, Jordan.
Her hands trembled. She reached for a small intercom beside her, whispering, "I'm sorry."
On the other end, a voice answered — smooth, calm, and cold.
> "Excellent, Subject E-01. Integration complete."
Eva's tears fell silently.
Because this time, she didn't know if she was crying for them… or because she'd remembered who she really was.