Dr. Lila Voss adjusted the monitor, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as the neural scanner pulsed with a faint blue glow. Subject 9 lay still on the examination table, their chest rising in slow, measured increments. The brain scans flickered—waves of data spiraling into fractal patterns, a language only she seemed to decipher. Lila’s breath hitched. These weren’t memories. Not theirs. They were hers.
The lab hummed with the low thrum of machinery, a sound that had become as familiar as her own heartbeat. She leaned closer, eyes tracing the jagged lines of the scan. A memory surfaced—her mother’s laughter, sharp and sudden, echoing through a sunlit kitchen. Lila blinked. The image wasn’t hers. It couldn’t be. She had no mother. Not anymore.
A flicker of movement in the corner of the room made her spin. Nothing there. Just the sterile walls, the hum of the scanner, the weight of silence pressing against her ribs. She turned back to the screen, fingers trembling as she zoomed in on the anomaly. The data shifted, rearranging itself into something new—a name, scrawled in a script she didn’t recognize. Her name.
“This isn’t possible,” she muttered, her voice swallowed by the lab’s oppressive stillness. She reached for the phone, then stopped. Who would believe her? The others? They’d dismissed her warnings before, called her paranoia. But this—this was different. The files were real. The memories were real.
Lila’s hand hovered over the keyboard, her pulse a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She had to know. Had to see what else was hidden in the code. The screen blinked, and suddenly, the data shifted again. A new file appeared, labeled “Project Mnemosyne.” Her breath caught. She’d never seen that name before. And yet, it felt like a secret she’d always known.
The lab door creaked open. Lila turned, her heart hammering. Dr. Elias Mercer stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable. “You’re still here,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. His eyes flicked to the screen, then back to her. “You shouldn’t be alone with him.”
“I’m not alone,” she replied, forcing her voice to stay steady. “I’m working.”
Mercer stepped inside, his boots clicking against the tile. “You know what happens when you dig too deep.”
Lila met his gaze, refusing to flinch. “I need to know the truth.”
For a moment, he said nothing. Then he reached for the keyboard, his fingers hovering over the keys. “Some truths aren’t meant to be uncovered,” he said. “You’ll regret this.”
“Maybe,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t stop now.”
Mercer’s eyes narrowed, and for a heartbeat, she thought he might walk away. Instead, he sat down, his posture rigid. The screen flickered, and the file “Project Mnemosyne” opened. Lila’s breath caught. The data was different now—shifting, alive. A cascade of images flooded the screen: a lab like this one, but older, more chaotic. People moving in frantic circles, their faces blurred. A voice, distorted and echoing, speaking in a language she didn’t understand.
“What is this?” she asked, her voice shaking.
Mercer didn’t answer. He just stared at the screen, his expression hardening. “You weren’t the first,” he said finally. “And you won’t be the last.”
Lila’s mind raced. “Who am I?”
Mercer’s gaze snapped to hers, and for the first time, she saw something in his eyes—fear. “You were never just a researcher,” he said. “You were part of it. From the beginning.”
The words hit her like a physical blow. “No,” she whispered. “That’s not true.”
“It is,” Mercer said, his voice steady now. “You remember, don’t you? The experiments. The memories. You’ve always known.”
Lila’s hands trembled as she reached for the keyboard. The screen shifted again, and this time, the images were different. A woman—her?—standing in a lab, her face pale, her eyes filled with terror. A voice, clear and unmistakable, speaking to her. “You have to let go,” it said. “Or you’ll lose yourself entirely.”
“Who said that?” she demanded.
Mercer didn’t answer. He just watched as the screen flickered, the images dissolving into static. Then, suddenly, the lab plunged into darkness.
Lila’s heart pounded as she fumbled for the emergency light. It didn’t come on. The hum of the machines died, leaving only the sound of her own breath. She stood, her legs unsteady, and turned to Mercer. “What’s happening?”
He didn’t move. “You’ve triggered the failsafe,” he said, his voice calm, almost detached. “They’re coming for you.”
“Who?”
Mercer’s eyes locked onto hers, and for the first time, she saw the full weight of his fear. “The ones who created it. The ones who built Project Mnemosyne.”
A sound echoed through the lab—distant, but unmistakable. Footsteps. Lila’s breath caught. “We need to go,” she said, her voice tight.
Mercer nodded, but as he stood, his face paled. “It’s too late,” he said. “They’re already here.”
The door burst open. Figures in white coats flooded the room, their faces obscured by masks. Lila backed away, her mind racing. “What do you want?” she shouted.
One of them stepped forward, their voice calm, almost soothing. “You’ve come so far,” they said. “But you were never meant to remember.”
“I remember,” she shot back. “I remember everything.”
The figure tilted their head. “Then you know why this has to end.”
Lila’s heart pounded. “No. I won’t let you take me again.”
The figure raised a hand, and suddenly, the world around her dissolved into darkness.
When she opened her eyes, she was back in the lab. The scanner was off, the files gone. Mercer stood beside her, his expression unreadable. “You’re safe,” he said. “For now.”
“What happened?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
Mercer didn’t answer immediately. He looked at her, and for the first time, she saw something in his eyes—regret. “You’re not the first,” he said again. “And you won’t be the last.”
Lila’s breath caught. “What does that mean?”
Mercer turned away, his back to her. “It means you have to decide,” he said. “Stay here, and you’ll forget again. Or fight, and risk everything.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Lila looked around the lab, at the sterile walls, the humming machines. This was her life. Her work. But now, it felt like a prison.
“I can’t forget,” she said, her voice steady now. “Not again.”
Mercer didn’t respond. He just stood there, watching as she turned back to the screen. The files were gone, but the memory remained. She would find them again. She had to.
Because if she didn’t, she’d lose herself entirely.
