Elias stared at the screen, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The red text was moving so fast now it was just a blur of angry light. HELP ME FINISH IT. HELP ME FINISH IT. It wasn't just a message anymore; it felt like the computer was screaming directly into his ears. He reached out and touched the edge of the keyboard. The plastic keys felt cold and sticky, like someone had spilled a soda on them and never cleaned it up. When he pulled his hand back, his fingertips were stained with fresh, wet red ink.
He didn't have to type a password. He didn't have to hack anything. The second his skin brushed the keys, the red text vanished instantly. A new window popped up in the center of the monitor. It was a video file, and the title made his stomach drop: RECOVERY_LOG_01.
He clicked it. His hand was shaking so hard he almost missed the icon.
The screen stayed black for a few long seconds, then a grainy, shaky video started to play. It looked like it was filmed in a small, white room with no windows and one bright light on the ceiling. A man was sitting in a cheap metal chair, facing the camera. He looked like a wreck. He hadn't shaved in a week, his hair was a greasy mess, and he was wearing a thin hospital gown that looked way too big for his frame.
Elias felt the air leave his lungs. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. The man in the video was him.
"My name is Elias Thorne," the video-version of him said. His voice was thin and raspy, sounding like he'd been shouting for help until his throat gave out. "If you're watching this, the Scrubber worked. Or it didn't. I don't even know anymore. They told me they could take the bad parts out. The memories of Clara. The guilt. The stuff that was keeping me from working. They said they could 'clean' my drive and make me a better employee."
In the video, the other Elias leaned closer to the lens. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and totally terrified.
"But they didn't just take the memories," the video-Elias whispered, his face twitching. "They took me. They copied my entire brain into the server so they could test the program without killing the original body. I'm the backup. I'm the part they threw away so the 'real' Elias could be a perfect little robot. But I'm still here. I'm stuck in the wires, and I'm rotting."
The video started to glitch out. The image tore into jagged green and purple lines, and the sound turned into a high-pitched whine. Real-life Elias backed away from the desk, his knees hitting a rolling chair. He fell into it, unable to look away from the screen.
"The thing in the body... the thing walking around out there... it's empty," the video-Elias said, his voice deep and distorted like it was coming from underwater. "It's just a shell. It's a house with no one inside. I need to get back in. I'm coming home, Elias. I'm coming back in."
Suddenly, the video cut to a loud, static hiss and went black. The server room went dead quiet, except for the heavy, mechanical whirring of the cooling fans. Then, the terminal made a sharp beep that echoed off the walls.
A progress bar appeared on the screen, glowing a toxic green.
SYNCING: 88%... 89%... 90%...
Elias felt a sharp, stabbing pain start right behind his eyes. It wasn't like a normal headache; it felt like a hot needle was being driven into his brain. He grabbed his head and tried to scream, but no sound came out of his throat. He looked down at his hands in the glow of the monitor. The red ink wasn't just a stain on his skin anymore. It looked like it was crawling under his skin, following his veins, turning his arms into a roadmap of bright red lines that pulsed with the server's heartbeat.
He tried to stand up, to run away from the computer and get back to the stairs, but his muscles wouldn't obey him. It was like his brain had been disconnected from his legs. He watched, terrified, as his own right hand reached out on its own. It moved smoothly, like a machine, grabbing the mouse. He watched his own finger click the button labeled: INITIALIZE OVERWRITE.
The screen turned a blinding, solid red.
"Stop it... please," Elias choked out. His own voice sounded like a stranger's.
He felt a cold, oily sensation sliding down the back of his throat, and his vision started to flicker. He looked at his reflection in the dark corner of the monitor. He wasn't crying anymore. He wasn't even scared. His face was going totally blank, all the emotion draining out of it like water down a sink.
SYNCING: 99%...
The pain stopped. The shivering stopped. Everything went quiet.
Elias let go of his head and stood up straight. He didn't feel tired anymore. He didn't feel the cold from his wet clothes or the sting in his palms. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the red marker, and very calmly clicked the plastic cap back onto it until it made a neat snap.
"There," he said. His voice was different. It was steady, cold, and a little bit deeper. It was the voice of the man from the video. "That's much better."
He turned away from the computer and looked toward the exit. He didn't need the yellow flashlight anymore; he could see the heat signatures of the wires in the walls. He knew exactly where the security guards were, and he knew exactly how to get past them. He had work to do, and Clara was still waiting for him to finish what he started.