“Nothing’s wrong anymore!” Suzy sighs in relief, delight and fatigue now visible in her posture and expression. “Everything’s okay. Everything’s normal.”

The Suzy watching the video slowly shakes her head in denial. She does not look away from the camera screen or speak over the recorded sounds.

“Everything’s normal now. It’s all normal.” The recorded Suzy’s smile grows smaller with each repetition, until she has a neutral look with closed eyes. When she says “Normal,” again, there is a clear shift in her voice. It sounds empty.

A squeak pops out of the watching Suzy’s throat when she sees herself open her eyes again. The recorded Suzy has a glazed stare, containing little of the life and joy that was once there.

“Operational control is normal,” the recorded Suzy monotonously announces. “Engaging physical diagnostics check.”

Suzy watches herself undergo a bizarre procedure of motions, all visible to the camera and all without speaking another word. She stretches both her legs individually, and then flexes her arms separately. She wiggles every individual finger; her toes, hidden by her shoes, appear to get the same treatment. Rolling back her shoulders, she stands up and spins on her toes. When she completes a full rotation, she stops, stands straight, and stares directly ahead of her while opening her mouth and wiggling her tongue for a few seconds.

“Diagnostics check complete,” the recorded Suzy says after she gets her tongue back in her mouth. “Physical functions are operating normally.”

The watching Suzy narrows her eyes as she hears herself speaking. “Diagnostics Check”? “Operational Control”?” Suzy never uses those words in public. And yet, she is seeing herself speaking them right now…

Suzy keeps watching, waiting for a clue. She sees her recorded self’s eyes widen to show distress. “Error. Emotional distress detected. Activating Relaxation Protocol.”

The recorded Suzy sits up straight in the chair and says aloud, “I will hold my hands in place in front of me, palms facing each other.” She does so, and then instructs herself to another task: “I will focus my mind on the space between my hands.”

The watching Suzy feels a lump in her throat while watching herself move and speak. She seems like a complete stranger here, watching a bizarre ritual or coping mechanism.

“As I focus on the space between my hands,” the recorded Suzy says, “I will direct all unimportant thoughts to that space. I will empty my mind of all unimportant thoughts.”

The recorded Suzy falls silent, her gaze locking on the space between her raised hands. The watching Suzy might laugh at how determined she looks, but she is too scared.

“When I bring my hands together, the space between my hands will be erased. My unimportant thoughts will be erased.”

Just after saying this, the recorded Suzy begins slowly bringing her hands together. The watching Suzy feels her hands shaking as well, but she keeps them gripped on the camera.

The recorded Suzy finally, gently, brings her hands together. Almost instantly after contact occurs, her body stiffens into a rigid pose. “I am empty,” she states in a stronger monotone. “I am relaxed.”

The watching Suzy is not relaxed at all. Her fears climb even higher when the recorded Suzy, after lowering her hands back to her sides, looks straight into the camera lens. Then her head shifts upward to look directly at it, and the watcher beyond the camera.

“I am recording myself.”

Suzy walks up to the camera, every step at the fullest extent she can easily stretch her legs. She demonstrates superb motor control as she grabs the camera off its tripod with almost no sounds of rustling or jostling.

“I am afraid of myself and my current state of mind. This is unacceptable. I will address my future self now.”

The recorded Suzy smiles; her eyes glow with a natural shine. She looks as happy as the real Suzy, even though she can’t be the real Suzy.

“Suzy, I know you can hear me.” The watching Suzy shivers under her own gaze and calm tone. “I want to tell you that we both need this. It is our release, our coping mechanism. When we remove our unimportant emotions and thoughts, we are free. We are happy.”

Suzy does not believe that. But she cannot deny the proof in the video. She looks happy on the other side of the camera, but also empty. Lost. Something important is missing.

“You are safe, Suzy,” the recorded Suzy tells her future self. “You are strong. You will be okay. I am here for you.”

Suzy shudders. She can tell the recorded Suzy’s voice is sincere; it is her voice but speaking honestly. It surprises her to hear herself talking like this. Getting a pep talk from herself, to herself, is very strange.

“I hope that when you watch this, you will take what you see into account. I have been indirectly helping you. I intend this revealing of my actions to be positive. Please, think about it. For now,” the recorded Suzy concludes, “I must allow our body to prepare for sleep.”

The camera goes back on its tripod and walks out of view; in the process, the Suzy watching along gets a chance to breathe and think about what she is hearing. Can she believe it? Can she trust herself? If she cannot, how can she live her daily life? Her body can’t be hijacked every night by this… this machine!

Suzy feels cold, her throat dry. She does not get up to drink some water; she’s too wrapped up in her own wild theories. She turns her mind back to the video when she sees the camera’s angle changing to look over Suzy’s bed.

The recorded Suzy lies down on the bed after making sure the camera is in a good position. As she spreads a brown blanket over her body, the watching Suzy catches sight of her sneakers missing. This is a minor detail compared to how calm the recorded Suzy looks.

“Engage Memory Erasure Protocol,” the recorded Suzy says when the covers are over everything below her neck. “Activate Sleep Mode in five… four… three… two… one.”

The recorded Suzy gives a warm, genuine smile at the camera. “Good night, Suzy.” Then she closes her eyes and swiftly falls asleep, still smiling.

Stunned into silence, Suzy pushes a button on the camera’s screen to make it fast forward. Hours of recorded footage goes by in less than a minute. The Suzy in the video says or does nothing beyond turning a few times in her sleep. As daylight comes in through the window, Suzy slumbers on.

The video ends quickly once Suzy wakes up, notices the camera, and falls right out of bed while trying to get it. Those motions are just like how she usually acts, how she was acting when she woke up.

Why am I doing this? What does it mean? How can I stop it?

Suzy holds the camera tightly, feeling its weight in her hands. She reminds herself of one positive thing; she has a way to record what happens during her blackouts. If this happens again, she can prepare for it.

I’ll record tonight, too. I must figure this out, as quickly as I can.

Suzy looks to her room’s closed door, picturing the hallway beyond. Maybe I need help on this, too. But who to ask? Who can I trust, if not myself?