Dr. Elara Voss adjusted the neural interface, its cold metal clamps biting into Kieran’s temples. The lab hummed with the low thrum of machines, a sound that had become as familiar as her own heartbeat. Outside, rain lashed the windows, but inside, the air was sterile, sharp with the tang of antiseptic and ozone. She glanced at the vitals—flatline, steady. Kieran’s body lay still, a husk of flesh and bone, while his mind drifted somewhere beyond the reach of her instruments.
The device pulsed, a faint blue light flickering along its edges. Elara’s fingers danced over the controls, her pulse steady. This was the moment. She had spent three years refining the algorithm, testing it on cadavers, on primates, on herself in the early stages. But this—this was different. Kieran was more than a subject. He was a mystery, a man who had fallen into a coma after an accident that defied explanation. The hospital records called it an aneurysm, but Elara had seen the patterns, the irregularities in his brain scans. Something else was happening. Something she needed to understand.
The current surged through the interface, and Kieran’s body twitched. Elara held her breath. Then, a flicker—a ripple in the data stream. The monitors blinked erratically, their graphs spiking and falling like a heartbeat gone mad. She leaned closer, her reflection distorted in the glass of the screen. Something was wrong.
A voice echoed in her mind, not spoken but felt, a vibration against her skull. *Elara?* It was Kieran’s voice, but deeper, older, layered with something else. Her breath hitched. She reached for the emergency shutdown, but the interface resisted, its controls frozen. The blue light intensified, and the room seemed to contract, the walls pressing in as if the air itself had thickened.
*You’re not alone.*
The words weren’t Kieran’s. They were hers. Or they should have been. Her fingers trembled as she tried to disconnect, but the interface clung to her like a parasite. The lab dissolved into fragments—flickering lights, the metallic scent of blood, the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Then, a vision: a corridor lined with glass chambers, patients lying motionless, their faces obscured by shadow. She saw herself among them, but younger, her eyes hollow, her hands bound to a console.
*This isn’t real.* She forced the thought into her mind, but the words felt foreign, as if someone else had planted them. The corridor twisted, morphing into a laboratory she recognized—her own. But the equipment was wrong, unfamiliar. A screen displayed a series of neural maps, their patterns eerily similar to the ones she had seen in Kieran’s scans. A name blinked on the screen: *Project Lattice.*
A door slammed behind her. Elara turned, but there was no one there. The air felt heavier now, charged with static. She took a step back, her boots echoing against the tile floor. The vision faded, leaving her trembling. The interface still pulsed, its light now a deep crimson. Kieran’s body lay still, but his eyes were open, staring at her with an intensity that made her stomach twist.
*You’re inside me,* she thought, the words forming in her mind without speaking. *This is your consciousness.*
*No,* the voice replied, but it was layered now, a chorus of voices overlapping. *This is yours. Or it was.*
Panic surged through her. She tried to pull away, but the interface anchored her, its grip unyielding. The lab blurred, and she was somewhere else—standing in a dimly lit room, the walls lined with monitors displaying streams of data. A figure stood in the center, their back to her. The air reeked of mildew and burnt circuitry.
“Elara,” the figure said without turning. “You shouldn’t have done this.”
Her breath caught. She knew that voice. It was her own, but older, worn down by years of silence. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
The figure turned. It was her—older, thinner, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. “I’m the last one who tried to stop it.”
The room tilted. Elara stumbled, the ground beneath her shifting like sand. “What is this place?”
“The Lattice.” The woman’s gaze was piercing. “A system designed to rewrite perception. To make people see what they’re told to see. Kieran’s coma wasn’t an accident. It was a test. And you… you were never just a scientist.”
Elara’s mind reeled. “What are you talking about?”
The woman stepped closer, her face etched with sorrow. “You were part of the first phase. They took your mind, split it, and fed it into the system. You remember, don’t you? The experiments. The voices. The dreams.”
Memories surged—flashes of a lab identical to this one, of herself lying in a chair, electrodes attached to her temples. A voice speaking in code, a screen displaying neural patterns that mirrored her own. She had thought it was research, but now it all made sense. The Lattice wasn’t just a device. It was a prison.
“You’re not the first,” the woman said. “But you might be the last who can stop it.”
Elara’s hands clenched into fists. “How?”
The woman hesitated, then reached into her coat. She pulled out a small device, its surface etched with symbols Elara didn’t recognize. “This is the key. It can sever the connection, but it requires a sacrifice. Your mind… your memories.”
Elara’s heart pounded. “What happens if I use it?”
The woman’s eyes darkened. “You disappear. Completely.”
A silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of choice. Elara looked around, at the flickering monitors, the rows of dormant patients. Kieran’s face haunted her, his eyes still open, still watching. She had spent her life chasing answers, but now the truth was a blade at her throat.
“I don’t have a choice,” she said finally.
The woman nodded. “Then go. Before they find you.”
The room dissolved, and Elara was back in the lab, the interface still pulsing. Kieran’s body lay motionless, but his eyes were gone, replaced by a swirling void. She reached for the device, her fingers brushing its surface. The world blurred, and she was somewhere else—standing in a vast chamber filled with data streams, the air thick with static.
A voice echoed around her. *You are not real.*
Elara stepped forward, her boots crunching against the floor. “I am.”
*You are a fragment.*
She turned, but there was nothing but darkness. The voice was inside her now, a constant hum, a presence that pressed against her thoughts. She clutched the device tighter, its weight grounding her. “I don’t belong to you,” she said, her voice steady.
*You will be rewritten.*
“No.” She activated the device. A surge of energy coursed through her, and the world shattered. She was everywhere and nowhere, a thousand fragments of thought colliding. Then, silence.
When she opened her eyes, she was back in the lab, the interface dark. Kieran’s body lay still, his eyes closed. The monitors showed flatlines. The room was empty, except for her. She took a shaky breath, the weight of the device still in her hand.
Had it worked? Had she escaped? Or had she become part of the Lattice, another fragment in its endless web?
She didn’t know. But she had a choice now. To run, to hide, or to fight. And for the first time in years, she felt something close to hope.
