I stared at the screen.
It was definitely me.
Same jacket. Same tired eyes. Same way I always leaned forward when I was trying to calculate something.
But I didn't remember this room.
Didn't remember any of it.
On the screen, I was talking to someone — a woman sitting across from me. She looked calm. Confident.
Like she knew something I didn't.
"You're not ready yet," she said on the video. "But you will be."
I blinked.
Then my on-screen self responded.
"I already know what happens," I said. "That's why I'm here."
The man beside me cleared his throat. "You came to us months ago."
I turned to him slowly. "What?"
He nodded toward the screen. "You reached out. Told us you were ready to stop running from your ability. That you wanted to understand it."
I took a step back. "No. That didn't happen."
"It did," he said gently. "We just made sure you wouldn't remember — until now."
My head pounded.
Lies.
They had to be lying.
But then why did everything about this place feel… familiar?
The door behind us opened.
A woman walked in.
The same one from the video.
She smiled like she'd been expecting me.
"You're starting to remember," she said.
I shook my head. "No. I would know if I—"
She stepped closer.
"You did choose us," she said. "And soon… you'll choose us again."