The air in the sublevel lab smelled like metal and static, a sharp tang that clung to the back of her throat. Mara’s boots scuffed against the linoleum as she stepped into the chamber, her breath fogging the glass of the observation window. Inside, the subject sat motionless, their limbs arranged with eerie precision on the steel table. A single overhead light cast long shadows across their face, which was partially obscured by a tangle of wires snaking from their temples. The wires pulsed faintly, like veins beneath skin.
Mara’s fingers twitched at her sides. She’d been told not to touch anything, but the subject’s stillness felt wrong—too perfect, like a marionette suspended mid-move. A low hum vibrated in her skull, a sound she couldn’t place. The scientist beside her, Dr. Voss, adjusted his glasses and muttered, “They’re calibrated to the alpha wave pattern. It’s stable.” His voice was too calm, too measured. Mara wondered if he’d ever left this room.
The subject’s eyes fluttered open. They were dark, unblinking, and when they locked onto hers, Mara felt a flicker of something—pressure against her temples, like a whisper just beyond comprehension. She stumbled back, her pulse roaring in her ears. The lights above buzzed, then dimmed. Voss didn’t react. He only tilted his head, studying the subject as if it were a specimen under a microscope.
“What’s happening?” she asked, her voice tight.
“The neural interface is engaging,” Voss said. “They’re processing stimuli.”
Mara’s gaze darted to the monitors behind them. Graphs spiked and flattened, erratic waves that didn’t make sense. The subject’s fingers twitched, then curled into a fist. A shiver ran through Mara. She’d seen animals in labs, seen their panic, their struggles—but this was different. The subject wasn’t afraid. They were *aware*.
A door hissed open behind her. Mara turned, expecting another scientist, but the hallway was empty. The air grew colder, and the hum in her skull sharpened into a high-pitched whine. The subject’s head tilted, their lips parting in a soundless word. Mara couldn’t tell if it was a scream or a sigh.
Voss stepped closer, his reflection wavering in the glass. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, but there was no anger in his voice—only exhaustion. “This isn’t a place for questions.”
Mara’s hand hovered over the emergency button on the wall. She could leave, could walk out of this room and never look back. But the subject’s eyes never left hers, and she knew, with a certainty that made her knees weak, that whatever was happening here wasn’t over yet.
The lights flickered again, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt. Mara’s vision blurred, and when it cleared, the subject was gone. The table was empty, the wires dangling like broken veins. Voss stood frozen, his face pale.
“Where—?” she started, but the words died in her throat. A faint sound echoed through the chamber, a soft clicking, like something small and sharp moving across the floor. Mara turned, her breath shallow, and saw it: a single black feather, glinting in the dim light. It drifted toward her, settling on the floor as if carried by an invisible wind.
Voss didn’t move. “It’s not possible,” he whispered.
Mara knelt, fingers brushing the feather. It was warm. “What *is* this place?” she asked, but the only answer was the sound of her own heartbeat, loud and frantic in the silence.
The door behind them slammed open. A man in a lab coat burst in, his face red with anger. “What the hell did you do?” he shouted, but Voss didn’t look up. He just stared at the empty table, his lips moving in silent prayer.
Mara stood, the feather still clutched in her hand. The hum had returned, stronger now, and she felt it in her bones. This wasn’t a lab. It was a cage. And she’d just opened the door.
The feather slipped from her fingers as she turned, walking toward the exit. The lights flickered once more, and for a heartbeat, she swore she saw the subject’s face in the reflection of the glass—smiling, or maybe crying, she couldn’t tell. But when she looked again, it was gone.
The hallway stretched ahead, dark and empty. Mara didn’t know where it led, but she knew one thing: whatever had been inside that chamber wasn’t done with her yet.
