The flickering lantern cast long, trembling shadows across the cement walls. Dust clung to the air, thick and musty, like time had been sealed in with them.
Thea sat on a cracked supply crate, arms folded tightly. Igor paced behind her, running his hands through his hair every few steps. Molly leaned against the far wall, fiddling with an old Walkman — not playing it, just spinning the wheels with her thumb, like it soothed her.
"So what exactly do you mean by recycled?" Thea asked finally.
Molly didn't look up. "People don't leave this place, Thea. Not really. If you survive long enough… the experiment starts using you."
Igor's voice was flat. "You mean they become staff?"
Molly gave a slow, humorless laugh. "Worse. They become characters."
That hung in the air.
"You've met them," she went on. "The flawless lady with the pie. The guy with the watering can. The cheerful school principal. The creepy janitor who always seems to know too much. They weren't AI."
Thea's spine stiffened.
"They were us," Molly whispered. "At some point, you stop being a test subject and start being part of the maze. Like your face, your patterns, your fears… get copy-pasted into the next level."
Igor finally stopped pacing. "So we're trapped in an evolving loop of human data. But who is collecting it?"
Molly shrugged. "Some say government. Some say a biotech think tank called HALO-9. I heard one guy swear it's just a rogue AI that went sentient mid-project."
Thea leaned forward, brows furrowed. "And you've been in here how long?"
"I told you. Three weeks."
"No," Thea said carefully, "you think you've been here three weeks. But you knew my name before I told you."
Molly froze.
Igor tilted his head. "And you said strawberry rhubarb was my favorite… That's only on one of my old usernames."
The lantern buzzed.
Molly's lip trembled. "I… I don't remember telling you that."
Thea stood slowly. "Because you didn't. You were fed our memories."
Silence.
Molly's hands dropped the Walkman.
"I'm—no," she said shakily, "I remember escaping. Hiding. I had a sister—"
"You were real once," Igor said gently. "But they rewrote you."
Molly stumbled back, slumping against the wall. "Then why do I feel so scared?"
Thea approached. "Because maybe part of you still is real. There's still time."
Molly looked up, eyes wide and wet. "Then get out before they do it to you too."
Before Thea could answer, the room stuttered.
The light froze for half a second. Then flickered violently.
A high-pitched hum vibrated through the air. Screens blinked to life — screens that weren't there before. Embedded in the walls like tumors. Each displayed a different face.
Faces of them.
Thea. Igor. Molly.
Dozens of angles. Laughing. Screaming. Running. Failing.
"New trial initiated," a voice echoed."Zone: Emotional Replication.""Objective: Isolate and Assimilate."
Molly screamed.
Thea grabbed her wrist. "Run!"
They bolted up the stairwell, Igor slamming the hatch shut behind them. The hardware store was no longer abandoned — its shelves reset, fully stocked. Light jazz played over unseen speakers.
And at the end of the aisle—
Molly.
Or rather, a copy of her.
She smiled wide. "Welcome back to aisle six! Need help finding your way?"
Her eyes were too bright.
"Keep moving!" Thea barked.
They tore through an emergency door and emerged into a cafeteria — empty trays on clean tables. A school bell rang, and suddenly people appeared.
But not real ones.
They were wrong.
Faces melted in symmetry. Eyes that didn't blink. Students mimicking laughter on loop. As Thea and Igor pushed through, one girl grabbed Thea's sleeve.
"You were always my best friend, Thea," she said blankly. "Don't you remember?"
Thea yanked her arm away. "No."
More faces turned. "Don't forget us."
"Stay a little longer."
"You belong here."
Igor pulled her through a fire exit, slamming it behind them. They landed in a hallway tiled with pastel linoleum, one side lined with lockers.
Then the lockers opened.
Not doors—mouths.
Rows of grinning steel teeth, stretching wide.
Igor's eyes went wide. "Now they're just showing off."
"Focus!" Thea snapped. "There's always a pattern. Look for it!"
He nodded, breathing fast. "Mirroring. They're using us to construct the obstacles now. Replication's not just emotional. It's tactical."
The PA system buzzed.
"Test subjects 7A and 7B adapting too quickly. Initiate fragmentation sequence."
The lights turned red.
The hallway split into three separate paths, like a trident. Each one flickering with different memories — childhood bedrooms, school gymnasiums, old computer labs.
"Choose," the voice said.
"Nope," Thea growled. "We don't play your game."
She picked up a nearby chair and hurled it at the wall between the paths.
It cracked.
Behind the illusion — wires. Machinery. Control panels.
Igor grinned. "Nice."
Thea pulled at the broken wall. "Help me."
Together, they tore through the layer of "reality" until a service shaft revealed itself behind.
"This way!" she yelled.
They slid into the dark crawlspace, sparks flickering behind them as alarms began to wail.
Inside the shaft, the silence returned. Close. Heavy.
Igor wiped sweat from his brow. "If we're being replicated… what's the original even mean anymore?"
Thea didn't answer right away. Then: "It means we have to stay unpredictable. That's the one thing they can't code."
He nodded.
Behind them, somewhere in the walls, the Molly-copy whispered.
"You won't make it far."