Lena's breath came in shallow bursts as she moved through the dark hallway. The walls, once solid, now appeared to ripple and shimmer with faint, fleeting images—fragments of memories, faces she didn't recognize, places she hadn't been. They were like ghosts, haunting the very fabric of the Facility, remnants of the hundreds, thousands of versions of her that had been here before.
The device—the key to the Archive—trembled in her palm, like it was alive. It hummed softly, a quiet pulse that seemed to respond to the vibrations in the air around her, guiding her forward. Each step she took felt heavier than the last, as if the very floor beneath her was conspiring to slow her down, to turn her back. But Lena couldn't stop now. She had made her choice.
No turning back.
The hall stretched endlessly, the flickering lights casting long, jagged shadows. Time felt warped here—disjointed, fractured. Every second felt like an eternity. She could hear whispers—low, indistinct murmurs that seemed to come from every direction. She pressed her hand against the cool, smooth surface of the wall, grounding herself.
At the end of the hallway, she saw it—the Archive.
The doors were massive, covered in intricate symbols that glowed with an unnatural light. The device in her hand pulsed faster, urging her forward. She stepped closer, and the doors parted with a mechanical groan, revealing the heart of the Facility.
Inside was a vast, open space—dizzying, endless. The Archive stretched before her, a massive, floating grid of transparent cubes, each one containing a version of herself. They hung in midair, suspended by invisible threads. Some of the cubes were clear, others cloudy, distorted, or cracked, as if the memories inside were fighting to break free. The air was thick with the scent of static and the hum of energy.
Lena took a tentative step into the room, her eyes scanning the sea of capsules. She could see herself inside them—each one a different version, a different life. Some of her faces were twisted in agony, others expressionless. Some were screaming, trapped behind the glass, while others were eerily still, as if in a deep, unnatural slumber.
But there, in the center of the room, was the largest capsule. It was different from the rest—darker, more solid. Inside it was a woman, one who looked like her, but not quite. Her eyes were wide, filled with an emotion Lena couldn't place—fear, defiance, or perhaps something more dangerous.
She approached the capsule slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. The woman inside locked eyes with her, and Lena gasped as she recognized her. It was the original—the one from the living room. But this time, the expression on her face was not one of calm or serenity. It was pure, raw desperation.
Lena reached out, her fingers brushing the cool surface of the glass. The woman inside began to move, her body jerking violently against the confines of the capsule. Her mouth opened, but no sound escaped. Lena stepped back, instinctively reaching for the device in her hand, which was now pulsing erratically.
The woman inside the capsule mouthed one word.
"Help."
Lena froze, a chill running down her spine. Was this the original? The one who had started all of this? Or was this another version of her—another fragment of the same broken mind? The question gnawed at her, but she couldn't focus on that now. She had to stop the cycle. She had to destroy the Archive.
She raised the device, pressing it against the surface of the cube. A soft click echoed in the room, and the entire space seemed to shudder, the hum growing louder, more insistent. The cubes around her flickered, their contents shifting, changing. Lena's pulse quickened.
"Stop," a voice said, sharp and cold. It came from behind her.
Lena spun around, her heart leaping in her chest. Standing in the doorway of the Archive, her face shadowed by the flickering lights, was the bellboy. But he was different now—his eyes were dark, hollow, as if something inside him had died.
"No!" he shouted, stepping forward. "You can't do this! You don't know what you're unleashing. You don't understand what's at stake."
Lena's hand tightened around the device. "I understand enough," she said, her voice trembling with the weight of the decision. "This has to end. All of this. The lies, the simulations, the endless loops. I won't let this continue."
The bellboy's expression twisted into something between sorrow and fury. "You think this will set you free?" he asked, his voice low, almost pleading. "You think destroying the Archive will break the system? You'll be doing exactly what they want. They've planned for this. They knew you'd come. They knew you'd try to destroy it. But you won't escape, Lena. Not this time."
Lena felt a surge of anger. "Who are they? Who's pulling the strings here? What are you trying to protect? You're part of the system, aren't you? You've been keeping us here, keeping us locked in this hell. And for what? Why?"
The bellboy's shoulders slumped, his gaze falling to the floor. "I was... I was part of the simulation's core. A monitor. But I'm not like the others. I broke free too, in my own way. I saw what they were doing. What they've been doing to all of you. But it's not as simple as you think. If you destroy the Archive, the consequences will be catastrophic. You'll erase every version of yourself—every memory. Every choice."
Lena's breath caught in her throat. "Then what am I supposed to do? Live like this forever? Be a part of their twisted game?"
The bellboy's face twisted with pain. "I don't have the answers, Lena. I wish I did. But if you destroy the Archive, you won't just be breaking the cycle—you'll be breaking yourself. There won't be anything left. You'll be nothing."
For a moment, the room was silent, save for the hum of the Archive. Lena's mind raced, the weight of the bellboy's words pressing down on her like a vice. Could she truly erase all of the versions of herself? Would that be freedom—or the ultimate destruction?
But as the hum grew louder, more insistent, Lena made her decision.
"I'm not afraid of the consequences," she said, her voice resolute. "I'd rather risk everything than live in this cage."
The bellboy reached out, his hand trembling. "Lena, no—"
But it was too late.
Lena slammed the device against the center of the capsule, and a blinding flash of light erupted from the Archive.