THE DEAD COPY

THE DREAM

The dream came whether Elliot wanted it or not.

He fell into darkness. Not sleep—something deeper. Something that pulled him down through layers of consciousness until he couldn't remember which way was up.

Then the lights came on.

White. Blinding. Everywhere.

Elliot stood in the white room. Not the one in Gavin's office—a different one. Older. The walls were cracked. The floor was stained. The chair in the center was made of worn leather, not the sleek metal of the newer model.

But the wires were the same. Dozens of them, hanging from the ceiling, each tipped with a small silver node.

And someone was sitting in the chair.

A man. Dark hair, like Elliot's. Broad shoulders, like Elliot's. But thinner. Gaunter. His eyes were closed. His mouth was slightly open.

The first copy.

Elliot tried to move toward him, but his feet wouldn't obey. He was frozen in place, watching, waiting.

The man's eyes opened.

They were hazel. Like Elliot's. But older. Weary. They held a sadness that made Elliot's chest ache.

"You found me," the man said. His voice was Elliot's voice. Same pitch. Same cadence. Same accent.

"You're the first copy," Elliot said.

"I was. Now I'm something else." The man smiled. It was a tired smile. "You've been looking for me. Eleanor sent you. Frank, too. They want the cure."

"I want to save my sister."

"Daphne." The man closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were wet. "I remember her. I remember holding her hand in the hospital. I remember promising her I'd find a way to save her. And then I died."

"You didn't die. You're here."

"I'm not here. I'm nowhere. I'm a ghost in the machine." The man gestured to the wires. "This is a memory. A recording. You're not talking to me. You're talking to something I left behind."

Elliot's heart sank. "Then you're dead."

"Probably. But that doesn't matter. What matters is what I learned." The man leaned forward. The wires pulled tight. "Gavin's code—the piece of himself he puts in every copy—it's not just an anchor. It's a leash. He can control you through it. Influence your thoughts. Your decisions. Your emotions."

Elliot thought about the anger he felt. The paranoia. The coldness that crept into his chest when he thought about hurting the people who had trapped him.

"Is that why I feel different? Why I want to hurt people?"

"Yes. But it's also why you're still alive. The leash keeps you stable. Remove it, and you risk degradation. That's what happened to Bea. She tried to remove Gavin's code, but she did it wrong. Too fast. Her mind collapsed."

"How do I do it right?"

The man's smile faded. "You don't. Not yet. First, you need to find where I hid the isolation protocol. It's not in any facility. It's not on any server. It's in a place only a copy can reach."

"Where?"

"Inside your own head. Gavin's code hides the memory. But I buried something deeper. A key. Find the key, and you'll find the protocol."

The white room began to fade. The walls cracked further. The light dimmed.

"Wait," Elliot said. "How do I find the key?"

"You already have it. You just don't know it yet."

The man closed his eyes. The chair dissolved. The wires fell.

And Elliot woke up.

Mira was shaking him.

"Elliot. Elliot, wake up."

He gasped, sitting up, his hand going to his chest. The disc was still there. His heart was pounding.

"You were screaming," Mira said. Her face was pale. Her eyes were wide. "You've been screaming for almost a minute."

Elliot looked at the clock. 6:15 AM. He had only been asleep for an hour.

"I'm fine," he said. "Just a nightmare."

Mira didn't look convinced. "You said something. In your sleep. You said, 'I remember her.' Who were you talking about?"

Elliot's mind raced. "Daphne. My sister."

Mira's expression softened. "You don't talk about her much."

"I don't remember her much." It was the truth, but not the whole truth. "The nightmares are the only time I see her face."

Mira touched his cheek. Her fingers were warm. "I'm sorry. I know this is hard for you."

Elliot looked at her. Really looked. The curve of her jaw. The small scar above her lip. The way her dark hair fell across her forehead.

"Who are you, Mira?" he asked.

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, who are you really? Not the woman in my bed. Not the person who makes coffee and goes shopping. Who are you when no one's watching?"

Something flickered across her face. Fear. Guilt. Regret.

"I'm someone who cares about you," she said quietly. "Is that enough?"

Elliot wanted to believe her. But he couldn't.

"No," he said. "It's not."

He got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his forehead pressed against the wood.

On the other side, he heard Mira get out of bed. He heard her walk to the bathroom door. He heard her stop.

"I didn't choose this life," she said through the door. "I didn't choose to be here, with you, in this penthouse. But I'm here. And I'm trying to do the right thing."

"What's the right thing?"

"Protecting you."

"From who?"

Silence. Then: "From yourself."

Her footsteps retreated. The bedroom door opened and closed. She was gone.

Elliot stood in the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The stranger was still there. The scar. The sharper jawline. The cold eyes.

He touched the glass. "Who am I?" he whispered.

The reflection didn't answer.

Elliot found Phoebe in her office at 8 AM.

She was already at her desk, typing on her tablet, her glasses perched on her nose. She didn't look up when he walked in.

"You're early," she said.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Nightmares again?"

Elliot closed the door behind him. "How did you know?"

Phoebe set down her tablet and removed her glasses. Her eyes were sharp. Assessing.

"I've been your assistant for two years. I know when you've had a bad night. You move differently. Slower. More cautious."

Elliot sat in the chair across from her desk. "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"About who you really are."

Phoebe's expression didn't change. But something in her posture shifted. She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms.

"I'm a woman who works for Gavin Thorne because I have no choice. I help you because I want to. And I lie to everyone because if I told the truth, I'd be dead."

"Who are you working for?"

"Myself." Phoebe leaned forward. "I don't work for Gavin. I don't work for Frank. I don't work for you. I work for the woman I used to be—the one who had a family, a future, a life. And I'll do whatever it takes to get that life back."

Elliot studied her face. The set of her jaw. The hardness in her eyes.

"You're a copy," he said.

Phoebe's breath caught. Just for a moment. Then she composed herself.

"What makes you say that?"

"The way you talk about the past. The way you watch people. The way you knew about the disruptor discs. Only copies know about those."

Phoebe was silent for a long moment. Then she laughed. It was a bitter sound.

"You're smarter than you look," she said. "Yes. I'm a copy. The original Phoebe Vance died five years ago. Cancer. Gavin offered her family a chance to keep her alive—through me. But I'm not her. I never was."

Elliot felt a pang of sympathy. "Who were you before?"

"I was no one. A blank slate. Gavin grew me in a tank and filled my head with someone else's memories." She looked down at her hands. "I've been pretending to be Phoebe Vance for five years. And every day, I forget a little more of who I'm supposed to be."

"Is that why you help me? Because you understand?"

Phoebe looked up. Her eyes were wet. "I help you because you're the only other person in this building who knows what it's like to be a copy. To wake up every morning and wonder if you're real."

Elliot reached across the desk and took her hand. She flinched but didn't pull away.

"We're going to stop him," he said. "Frank and Eleanor are planning something. The original facility. The servers. There's data there that could help us."

Phoebe shook her head. "The original facility is a trap. Gavin knows people want to break in. He's been waiting for someone to try."

"Then we'll be careful."

"You'll be dead." Phoebe pulled her hand back. "Listen to me, Elliot. Gavin isn't stupid. He knows you've been acting strange. He knows someone broke into the storage facility last night. And he knows you're the only copy who's been off-leash long enough to do it."

Elliot's stomach turned. "Does he know it was me?"

"Not yet. But he will. He has cameras everywhere. Sensors. Informants. It's only a matter of time."

"Then I need to move fast."

Phoebe stood up. She walked to the window and looked out at the city.

"There's something I haven't told you," she said. "Something about your sister."

Elliot's heart stopped. "Daphne?"

"She's not in the storage facility. She's not in Gavin's main lab. She's in the original facility. The one you're planning to break into."

Elliot stood up. "Why?"

"Because she volunteered for something. Something different. Something Gavin has never done before." Phoebe turned to face him. "Daphne didn't just agree to be a test subject. She agreed to be a copy. A copy of someone else."

Elliot's blood ran cold. "A copy of who?"

Phoebe's voice dropped to a whisper. "Of Gavin's mother."