Fractured Echoes

The Simulation Begins

Chapter 3

The sun fought to break through the thick fog that hid over Halcyon. Iris stood by the window, her hand resting against the chilly glass. The mountains, viewed from this elevation, looked like crouched beasts, curled up and sleeping beneath a thick layer of snow.

A knock on her door.

She moved, already dressed in the uniform provided by the institute—black, simple, anonymous.

Mara's voice was filtering through the wood. "Good morning, Iris. Time for your first session."

Iris opened the door to find Mara there with a clipboard and a quizzical smile.

"Simulation 1 is one-on-one," Mara told her. "Dr. Wren will be watching."

Iris didn't reply. She walked in silence through the cold corridors.

They passed the lounge and the therapy rooms and eventually ended up at a large silver door labeled IMMERSION LAB A.

Mara entered a code into the panel. The door hissed open quietly with a hydraulic whine.

The room inside was like something from a science fiction film. In the middle of the room was a reclining chair that was ringed with monitors and wires. Above, a ring of light glowed softly. There was a trace of antiseptic and metallic odor in the air.

Dr. Adrien Wren remained beside the chair, respectable in a black turtleneck and gray trousers. He smiled as they entered, eyes warming with polite enthusiasm.

"Iris," he replied, smiling. "I've seen your file. Extremely impressive."

Iris nodded. "This is the part where I lie down and offer you my mind?"

Wren smiled. "Something like that. But you're always in control. This isn't about forcing anything. It's about unlocking what your mind has chosen to forget."

Iris stared at the chair. "And if there's a reason I forgot it?"

"Then perhaps it's time to remember."

Wren motioned for her to sit. Iris lowered herself slowly. Electrodes were attached carefully to her temples and wrists. A mask was placed over her nose and mouth.

“This will help guide the experience,” Wren explained. “A low-dose compound to relax your conscious filter. You’ll enter a meditative state, but remain aware.”

Iris’s heart rate increased slightly. She forced her breathing to slow. She wasn’t afraid—she told herself that. But something about this setup felt too controlled. Too planned.

Mara tapped a screen. A soothing hum filled the room. Lights dimmed. Wren leaned closer.

“When you’re ready, close your eyes.”

Iris did.

It started with warmth. Then color.

She stood in a meadow—gold light, tall grass swaying. Children's laughter in the distance. Smelling of summer and old books. Familiar.

A house lay ahead. Two stories, wooden porch, peeling paint.

She knew this house.

No.

She didn't.

She stepped one step forward.

The door creaked open.

Inside, shadows stretched far across hardwood floors. A clock ticked. The air changed—no longer warm. Cold now. Heavy.

Down the hallway, a voice.

"Iris.?"

She froze in her tracks.

That was her voice.

She went towards it. Doors appeared on either side of the hallway. Closed. She didn't even notice them. The hallway extended longer with every step, light fading. Then—

A mirror.

Standing before it was herself. But younger. Barely twenty.

The younger Iris looked back, eyes wide, face pale.

They told me it would work," the reflection answered. "But it didn't. We lied. We buried it."

Iris reached out to touch the glass. Her hand met cold glass.

The hallway lights flickered. The house trembled.

The reflection shrieked, blood pouring from her lips.

Iris gasped—and the world erupted.

Her eyes flew open.

She was sitting in the chair, trying to breathe.

Wren's face was above hers, calm.

“Fascinating,” he said. “You reached Level 2 depth on your first try.”

Iris wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her hands trembled.

“What was that?” she whispered.

“Your subconscious guiding you,” Wren replied. “We’ll analyze the data. You’ll begin journaling immediately.”

He glanced at Mara. “Take her to Recovery.”

Mara helped Iris to her feet. Her legs were unsteady.

As they departed, Iris saw Wren's back as he stood behind her. He continued to look at the chair as if she were just a fixture in an ongoing experiment.

The recovery room was warm and full of plush couches and soft light. Mira sat in the corner with a sketchbook in her lap. She looked up as Iris entered.

"They did you today," Mira whispered.

Iris nodded and sank onto the couch.

Mira inclined her sketchbook towards her.

A drawing of a mirror. A hallway. And a woman whose mouth is open in a silent scream.

Iris scowled at it.

"See this?" she asked.

Mira shrugged. "I just draw what seems loud."

Domesticated just as Iris could respond, Dominic entered, his energy as bouncy as ever.

"Afternoon, ladies," he said. "Word is, I'm next. Can't wait to see what horrors they feed me."

Iris studied him. "You're not nervous.".

Dominic chuckled. "Nerves are for people who have something to regret."

He gazed at Mira's sketch. "Looks familiar," he said nonchalantly. "Wasn't that on the brochure?"

Mira scrunched up her eyebrows. "You think that is humorous?"

Dominic gestured with his hands. "I think this is therapy. And therapy only works if you let it get you together first."

Casey burst through the door, cheeks flushing, eyes wide.

"I hacked a node," she panted, breathlessly.

Iris braced her shoulders. "What do you mean?"

Casey grinned. "Their internal server. The firewalls are locked down, but they left a maintenance port open. Typical mistake."

Dominic threw up his hands. "You broke into their system? Genius. Extremely subtle."

Casey went on as if Dominic had not spoken. "They're tracking us. Heart rate, brainwaves, even REM sleep cycles. And get this—they're storing dream data."

Mira's head jerked up. "Dreams?"

Casey nodded. "Whatever that mask gas is doing—it's mapping our reactions. Building psychological profiles."

Iris's thoughts were racing. "For what?"

Casey shrugged. "Don't know yet. But it's not therapy. They're modeling something."

Dominic looked between them. "Why am I the only one who saw this coming?"

Iris got to her feet. "We need to know more. Whatever they're trying to tap into—there's a reason they chose us. It's not a coincidence."

Dominic smiled dryly. "Perhaps we're just the ones crazy enough to agree."

But Iris wasn't smiling.

That night, Iris returned to her journal.

"The simulation wasn't a memory. It was a message.

Someone inside me is trying to remind me of something I buried.

I saw myself. Younger. Afraid.

And that house. I know it. But I don't.

Casey's right. They're not just watching us—they're constructing a map. Of our minds.

Why?"

She closed the journal and locked it again.

Outside, the wind howled.

Across the courtyard, in the shade of the trees, the figure appeared again.

Waiting.

Always waiting.

Iris moved away from the window.

Whatever was happening inside Halcyon—it had already started to redefine her reality.

And this was only the first simulation.