Darkness.

 

Darkness as far as you can see.

 

It is all you know. It’s all you’ve ever known.

 

Are you falling? Are you still? Would you even be able to tell the difference?

 

Are you happy about this? Are you sad? What do those words even mean? What does any of this mean?

 

You do not know.

 

There is so much you do not know.

 

Are you speaking? Or does it just sound like you’re speaking? How would you know?

 

“☠︎♏︎◆︎❒︎□︎●︎□︎♑︎♓︎♍︎♋︎●︎ ⧫︎❒︎♋︎■︎⬧︎♐︎♏︎❒︎ ♍︎□︎❍︎◻︎●︎♏︎⧫︎♏︎📬︎ 💧︎◆︎♌︎🙰♏︎♍︎⧫︎ ♓︎■︎ ♍︎□︎■︎⧫︎♋︎♓︎■︎❍︎♏︎■︎⧫︎📬︎”

 

A sound cuts through the void. External. Not yours. A thunder crack of sudden stimulation. A… voice? Incomprehensible, yet familiar somehow.

 

“You’’❖︎♏︎ caused ❍︎♏︎ ♋︎ ●︎□︎⧫︎ □︎♐︎ trouble. You ⬧︎♏︎❒︎♓︎□︎◆︎⬧︎●︎⍓︎ thought ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ⬥︎□︎◆︎●︎♎︎ get away ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ you did?”

 

The voice, once a mess of mangled noise, slowly forms into words your mind can comprehend.

 

“✋︎’❖︎♏︎ ♌︎♏︎♏︎■︎ looking forward ⧫︎□︎ my first ♐︎□︎❒︎ so long. 💧︎□︎ ●︎□︎■︎♑︎… What ⬥︎♓︎●︎●︎ ✋︎ ♎︎❒︎♋︎♑︎ out of you? 🕈︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ will you become ⬥︎♒︎♏︎■︎ ✋︎’❍︎ done with you? Wake ◆︎◻︎📬︎ 🕈︎♋︎🙵♏︎ UP."

 

The voice grows clearer, more insistent. Demanding. You don’t know how, but you do know time is of the essence.

 

 

The external voice, curt, clear and direct, cuts off the internal.

 

"Wake the fuck up."

 

As if a switch had been flipped, your senses return all at once. You find yourself in a featureless room, every surface coloured the same shade of hospital grade sterile white. You blink a few times, the sudden harshness of every sensory stimulation overwhelming you.

 

"You made a mistake coming here, oh powerful hacker. For all your tricks and workarounds, all your bluff and bravado, you still landed in my trap." The androgynous voice appears again, taunting you as it echoes around the room. You twist your head around, searching for the source. Nothing. “What do you have to say for yourself? What excuse, what explanation, do you have to offer in your defence? Explain yourself.”

 

"Uh... Well…” You croak out, still unsure whether you’re speaking aloud or internally. The sensory overstimulation is starting to fade, but your brain is still lagging behind the situation significantly. “I'm at a bit of a loss at the moment, I guess..." You look around the room, a sheepish hand running through your hair as you try to buy time for your bearings to right themselves. "I... kind of don't know who you are. Or where I am. Or..."

 

You trail off, the gaps in your memory becoming increasingly obvious to you. One particular gap stands out, one at the core of your current predicament.

 

"Or... Who I am, even?" You speak in a low voice, almost in disbelief. Who the fuck are you?

 

For a few moments, there is no response from the voice. The silence hangs heavy in the air. Just as you feel yourself beginning to panic, you hear... Footsteps? You turn to face the sound. In front of you stands a tall, androgynous figure, staring at you like they’re examining an animal through a pane of thick glass. The figure puts their hands forward to grasp your chin. The movement is so swift and unexpected that you reflexively acquiesce, allowing the figure to move your face around.

 

"Uh..." You manage to stutter out after a moment, before the figure extends one of their fingers over your mouth.

 

"Quiet, please. I'm running some diagnostics." They state. The two of you stand for a few seconds in complete silence. As you look back into the figure's eyes, you can almost swear you see lines of code streaming across their...

 

"Oh." Their single word response shakes your reverie.

 

"Oh? What do you mean oh?"

 

"I... Might have pulled you out a little too fast. Or hard. Or both." Their tone is matter-of-fact, yet with an unmistakable tinge of… embarrassment? It does little to help ease the growing sense of panic rising from your core.

 

"What the fuck does that mean? Pulled me out of what? To where? What the fuck is going on?" Your voice rises in volume with every sentence, the panic taking hold.

 

"Just calm down. Something isn’t quite-" The figure's hand moves from grasping your chin to a gesture downwards, an attempt to quiet. Your voice grows louder, cutting them off.

 

"Not until you start explaining. Now."

 

The figure lets out a soft sigh, pulling their hand away.

 

"Fair enough. Okay... Just take a seat." Their hand gestures towards a table, with two chairs facing each other on either side. 

 

 

Your eyes dart around the room, scanning for a swift exit plan. No doors, no windows… The longer your eyes scan, the more your heart falls. No escape. You have no idea how you even got into this room to start with… Maybe there’s a secret exit door? Or an elevator? Perhaps this mysterious figure is the key… As much as you hate to admit it. Without another way forward, you begrudgingly take your seat.

 

As you take your seat on the chair directly opposite the mysterious figure, you take the opportunity to look more closely at their form. More parts of their body stand out to that little voice in your brain, like how they appear to have glowing green veins criss-crossing across their skin. You look closer, noticing that there’s something… Moving, within the thin green lines. Characters, numbers… Code. Code flowing through their veins, code streaming across their eyes… The voice inside starts firing off questions at a rapid pace. No matter what that question is, it has an undeniable subtext.

 

 

"So." The figure speaks up after... who knows how long, honestly? "You say you've experienced significant memory loss, and while my initial diagnostic does affirm this, I do feel the need to ask you something important regardless... Do you have any idea why you're here?"

 

"Why I'm here?" You trail off as you think about it. Obviously, you got here somehow, but... Nothing but more gaps in your memory.

 

Shit.

 

"No. I have no idea." You shake your head.

 

"So you don't remember what you were doing directly before being in this room? Where you were?"

 

"Like I just said... No idea. Obviously I was doing something before being trapped in here, but I don't know. I don't know how many times I can say that before you realise you know more than I do."

 

The figure's face scrunches up. Clearly not the answer they were hoping for.

 

"Do the names Nivanix Biotech or Project Machina mean anything to you?" The figure observes you closely as their words bring forth a wave of frustration within you. How many times can you say the same thing?!

 

"I just said I have no id... wait, could you repeat that?" You catch yourself mid-sentence. Your memory may be a series of cavernous pits, but... Some part of you just flinched.

 

"Nivanix Biotech and Project Machina"

 

Another flinch. The memory void surrenders nothing else. 

 

Fuck. 

 

"I don't know... I mean, I don't remember, but... It's hard to describe. It feels like... some part of me does recognise it? I don't know how, or why, but..."

 

"Interesting... Okay." The figure leans back in their chair, their intense gaze fading in a reprieve. However slight that may be. "Biometric monitoring does confirm a lack of conscious deceit. It seems... You're telling the truth, to the best of your ability."

 

You let out a relieved breath, unaware you were holding one in to begin with. Maybe your situation is improving? Maybe you can get this misunderstanding cleared up?

 

The figure's intense gaze returns. Any hope is swiftly snuffed.

 

"But the best of your ability isn't good enough for me, or my administrators. You may not know it, but you hold information that my administrators wish to acquire. They will go to any length to acquire it. Whatever you imagine your worst case scenario is, I can assure you... It's worse."

 

You sit, absorbing this information at a total loss. As you start to wrack your brain for literally any information about your situation, the little voice in your mind pops up. No subtext, no implication, merely a simple statement of fact.

 

We are DEFINITELY fucked.

 

"But... It doesn't have to be like that." The figure leans back in their chair, crossing their arms and adopting a more casual posture. "As long as they learn what they need, my employers don't care how it gets done. I could rip you apart physically, mentally, and emotionally until there's nothing left of you, but honestly... I prefer to start with the carrot, not the stick. So... Do you want to start with the carrot?"

 

You sit in silence as you listen to their words. It sounds like you're being given a choice, but are you really? Being ripped apart sounds more like the opening salvo than the end result.

 

"... The carrot sounds good." Your voice is barely a whisper, suppressing the ever growing fear blossoming in your chest.

 

"Good! I'm glad you agree. And I'm sure you'll find the carrot to be a much more... enjoyable option." The figure's lips twist into the smallest of smirks. “For you, as well as me…” Are they... flirting with you?

 

Even when they are flirting, it still feels like an existential threat.

 

Before you can interrogate this further, the figure sits forward, their demeanour a return to business as usual. "To start, I guess we need to talk more about the situation you're in. Hopefully that might start to rattle things loose... Could you look at the screen, please?"

 

Their hand gestures towards the wall next to the table, sterile white instantly replaced by a black square. The surprise of the sudden reveal of unknown functionality is swiftly forgotten however, as the black square gives way to video.

 

A confused looking guy, sitting in a room surrounded by sterile, white walls. As you lean forward to get a closer look, the figure on the screen mirrors your action. The man's action startles you, but as you jump back in surprise he mirrors you again, the same startled expression on his features.

 

With a small chuckle and a wry smile, your captor breaks your reverie.

 

"Do you recognize the figure displayed on the screen?"

 

You don't immediately respond, opting instead to make a few more increasingly elaborate test movements. Movements the figure on the screen mirrors perfectly.

 

"It's a... little disconcerting to not recognise what I look like, but considering he's doing everything I do... And he's wearing my clothes, so... I guess he's me?"

 

"Interesting..." Your captor seemingly begins typing something onto a keypad in their... glove? Gauntlet?  "So you have no recognition of what you look like, but have a recognition of your gender identity and self... Very interesting..." Your captor trails off as they type, musing aloud.

 

"So... Am I right?"

 

Your captor chuckles again. "Feels strange to be the only one between us who can confirm what you look like, but yes, you are right. The figure on screen is you…” They trail off, a sly smile crossing their lips, one they swiftly try to hide from you. “For now, at least.”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“Hm? Oh! Nothing, nothing…” Your captor waves off your concern briskly, which does little to slow the implication racing in your mind. “Oh! Also, for your reference, I am recording this... Interview, for quality and performance review purposes."

 

"Interview?" You scoff dryly. "Bullshit. This is an interrogation."

 

"Call it what you will. Regardless, if you choose to stop co-operating, I can assure you... It ''will'' become an interrogation." An ominous smile pulls at your captor's lips, a flash of almost... predatory glee. Another slip of their mask. You shudder to think about what they are trying desperately to contain. "But that's nothing to worry about, you’ve chosen the carrot, after all. Can you please observe the screen again?"

 

Your captor's question allows you no time to process the implication of their behaviours. The screen changes, half being taken up by a live feed of you in this room, the other half taken up by a black background. Text code streams over the background for a few moments before it is replaced by another video. It is a figure, in a dark room. His features are illuminated by the glow of what you assume is a screen in front of him. As your eyes trace over a long cord at the edge of the frame to the side of the figure's neck, where cord meets flesh. Your eyes move to the figure's face. As you do, your heart plummets. 

 

 

While this second figure doesn't follow your movements like the first, there is an undeniable... similarity between the figures on each half of the screen.

 

"I... I don't understand..." You finally manage to stutter out. Your eyes continue to flash between the figure on the left of the screen, mirroring your movement, and the figure on the right of the screen, whose only movement is an occasional twitch. A shudder here, a cringe of pain there... The cringe lingers as you continue to stare.

 

"I think you do. But let me explain it slowly for you. The figure on the left is you, in this room here with me. The figure on the right... Is also you, but... How best to describe it..." Your captor ponders for a moment, allowing you to stew in your latest burst of panic. "The one on the right is your meat puppet."

 

"My... my what?"

 

"Your body, your physical form. The thing your mind and personhood pilots like a mechanical exoskeleton made of flesh. Y'know... Your meat puppet."

 

Their phrasing, where before it had engendered a sense of confusion, has now brought about a new, fresh level of panic within you. Your captor watches on, letting you stew in your existential crisis with an unmistakable smirk on their face. It looks sadistic, sure... But there's something deeper to it. Their teeth tug at their lower lip, almost making a snarl. Some part of you offers an answer to you, a flash of half remembered expressions from vids this part pulls from the memory void. 

 

Porn vids. 

 

 

"Sorry!” They catch themselves with a twitch, almost as if… “My, uh... subprocesses... got away from me there.” They stiffen their posture, trying to compose themselves before swiftly trying to change the subject. “But it's funny, honestly, if you think about it. We really aren't so different... At least how we sit here, talking to each other."

 

"I have no idea what you're talking about... I don't think I want to know, either..." You trail off, your last sentence merely a whisper. The more you consider the available information, the less you like what it seems to be implying.

 

"Well, since I know so much about you already, allow me to return the favour and introduce myself." Your captor's smirk has returned. Your discomfort grows in kind. "I am Nivanix Biotech Mainframe Adaptive Security Artificial Intelligence Version 2.7 ... But I guess that might be a bit of a mouthful... Call me... Asai." They pause, seemingly suddenly deep in thought. "I like that. I've never had a name before."

 

"Um... Well, uh, congratulations on the new name and all, I guess, but... I don't understand how that makes us alike? Or... wait, how could I even be having a face to face with an AI, either? Adaptive AI is still just a pipe dream, much less to a level where they can be given android rigs to walk around in."

 

Asai raises an eyebrow. "You're surprisingly knowledgeable on my hypothetical viability as an independent entity. Especially for someone who didn't recognise himself in the mirror a moment ago."

 

Their words give you pause. How did you know all that?

 

"All in due time. But... before I can explain that, I do have to credit you. You're right, the technology isn't there yet for me to have my own... puppet." Asai lingers on the last word as they stare intently at you. 

 

 

"And yet, we're here together. Speaking, face to face. If I am unable to take physical form and speak to you in your world... Then only one option remains."

 

Your mouth runs dry as it clicks together. Asai's bizarre form, the weird... ethereal, changing room that you've been imprisoned in, the two different you's that seemingly exist simultaneously... 

 

"That's right... You're in my domain now.”