The third knock came from beneath my feet.
I stared at the blue line running from my palm to my wrist, watching it pulse in time with something deep beneath the station. The silver markings that had appeared whenever I touched the ancient structures were gone, replaced by the same blue I had seen in creatures changed by the blackout. Whatever had happened, the System recognized it.
That was the problem.
It had called me original.
"Explain that message," I demanded.
The man in the white coat studied my hand. "I can’t explain why your System used those words. I can only tell you what they meant to the researchers."
"Then start talking. My sister is somewhere beneath this station, and I’m done wasting time."
My mother touched my shoulder. "Veyric, let him speak."
I stepped away from her and watched the man activate the central monitor. A map of the facility appeared, revealing several underground levels, most of them dark. Only one section glowed blue, far below the chamber where we had discovered the recording of my mother’s experiment.
"The original response project used two classifications," he explained. "One described a subject whose body produced a measurable reaction. The other referred to a source that appeared to exist independently of that body."
"So Subject One and the original."
"Not exactly. Subject One was the designation assigned to you. The original was a theoretical classification for the source of a second signature."
"And you never identified it?"
"We couldn’t determine whether it was a separate entity, an echo of the structure, or something our instruments weren’t capable of measuring."
I glanced at the blue line on my wrist. "But the System thinks I’m the original."
"Apparently."
"Or it’s wrong."
He nodded, and his willingness to admit that possibility surprised me. At least one person in this facility understood that a classification wasn’t proof, even if everyone else had spent twenty-four years treating their theories like facts.
My mother leaned toward the monitor. "Where is the response coming from?"
The man enlarged the lowest level, revealing a narrow passage that ended at a circular chamber surrounded by unfamiliar symbols.
"The original chamber. Or what’s left of it."
"You told me it was sealed."
"It was."
A tremor shook the room, sending dust from the ceiling as the monitors flickered. The blue marker shifted, and a second point appeared beside it, glowing white.
My stomach tightened.
"That’s Nyelle."
"It appears to be her response," the man said.
"Stop calling her a response. She’s my sister, and her name is Nyelle."
He studied me before nodding. "The white marker is Nyelle."
The two points were moving closer together, and a thin silver line stretched between them. According to the man, the original chamber had been designed to distinguish the signatures, which meant restoring its configuration might separate them without harming either person.
"And if it fails?" I asked.
"Then we’ll need another way."
"That isn’t much of a plan."
"It’s the only honest answer I have."
My mother shook her head. "You don’t know what that chamber will do to him."
"Neither do you," I replied, softer than I intended. "But Nyelle is still down there, and waiting won’t protect her."
She searched my face, perhaps looking for the child she had carried away from this place. I wished I could reassure her, but I had no promises worth making, so I turned toward the man instead.
"Open the maintenance passage."
He entered a command, but the monitor immediately displayed a warning.
[ACCESS DENIED.]
He tried again, with the same result.
"The authorization system should have been disabled decades ago," he muttered. "It appears to be waiting for you."
"Of course it is."
I approached the monitor and held my hand near its surface. The blue line warmed, and the symbols around the lowest chamber shifted into a familiar pattern: three circles and a vertical mark, matching the symbol on the old device and the ring my mother had given me.
This time, the third circle was complete.
[ORIGINAL RESPONSE RECOGNIZED.]
The map refreshed, revealing a route through the lower levels.
My mother caught my wrist. "Don’t let it lead you blindly."
"I’m not trusting it. I’m using the door it opened."
She released me reluctantly, and the three of us entered a narrow passage behind the observation room. The modern metal fixtures gradually gave way to dark stone arches, their surfaces covered in markings that seemed older than the facility itself. Pale blue veins illuminated the walls, and the air grew heavier with every step, sharpening my hearing until I could distinguish my mother’s footsteps from the man’s breathing behind us.
Then I heard three knocks.
I stopped, and my mother nearly walked into me.
"What’s wrong?"
"Listen."
The tapping came again from somewhere ahead, followed by silence. The man raised his flashlight toward the darkness, but when I asked what was making the sound, he pointed at the floor.
"Below it."
A crack spread across the stone beneath us. My mother pulled me backward just as a section of the floor sank, exposing a narrow gap filled with blue light.
Something moved beneath it.
The blue line in my palm pulsed once, and the movement stopped. Then a voice rose from the gap, quiet and familiar enough to make every muscle in my body lock.
"Veyric."
It was my voice, but younger, carrying a sadness I couldn’t remember ever expressing. My mother covered her mouth while the man stumbled backward, his composure finally breaking.
"That’s impossible," he whispered.
I crouched beside the crack. "Who are you?"
"You."
"I’m standing right here."
"No," the voice replied. "You’re the one who got out."
Cold spread through my chest. Before I could ask what that meant, the voice continued, "They told you that you were born here."
"Wasn’t I?"
After a long silence, it answered, "You were the one they carried away."
My System appeared.
[IDENTITY CONFLICT: ACTIVE.]
[MEMORY ACCESS: RESTRICTED.]
A third message flickered into existence, but it vanished before I could read it. The System wasn’t simply withholding information anymore; something was preventing me from seeing it.
I turned toward the man. "What did you do to me?"
"Nothing. I swear."
"Then why does that thing sound like me?"
He looked at my mother, who was staring into the crack with tears running down her face.
"Mother?"
She shook her head. "Please, Veyric. Not here."
The voice beneath us laughed softly. "You still don’t remember her."
"Stop talking to him!" my mother shouted.
The blue light flared, revealing a pale hand pressed against an invisible surface beneath the stone. A thin blue line ran from its palm to its wrist, exactly like the mark on my own hand, before the image disappeared.
[SUBJECT 01: MEMORY FRAGMENT DETECTED.]
Pressure surged behind my eyes, and the corridor vanished.
I stood inside a white room, watching my younger mother hold a baby against her chest. A man stood beside her, his face obscured by the overhead lights, while a small child pounded both hands against the glass on the other side of the room.
The child’s face was mine.
The vision shattered, throwing me back against the corridor wall. My mother reached for me, but I raised a hand, struggling to steady my breathing as the memory remained painfully clear. That child hadn’t looked like a reflection; it had looked like someone trapped outside a family, watching through a window while waiting for the door to open.
I faced the crack again.
"What happened to the child in that room?"
The answer came immediately.
"You did."
The floor shook, and the stone wall ahead split apart, revealing a staircase descending into blue darkness. The man’s handheld device flashed with a new marker, and his expression changed when he read it.
"Nyelle."
I moved toward the stairs, but my mother caught my arm. This time, she didn’t try to stop me; instead, she looked at me with a fear that seemed older than the apocalypse itself.
"Whatever you see down there, remember that you are my son."
I met her eyes. "I will."
Then I stepped through the doorway, the blue line in my palm brightening as I descended into the darkness. Behind me, the voice followed, its words echoing through the passage like a memory I had spent my entire life trying to forget.
"That’s what they told the other one."
I stopped.
Far below, something knocked three times.
And Nyelle screamed.