Test One: Seven Days Before The Apocalypse

Amara Voss couldn't breathe. Her chest rose in short gasps. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and the world beyond them swam in a blur. She tried to open her eyes fully, but even that small effort left her exhausted. Something was wrong. A deep ache sat in her limbs, and pressure pulsed behind her forehead. She tried to move her arms and could barely stretch them. There was hardly any room, and cold glass pressed against her palms. Amara forced her eyes open. Transparent walls surrounded her, their edges distorted by her blurred vision. She turned her head, wincing as pain shot through her skull. She was inside a glass chamber, with barely enough space to move. She pushed both palms against the glass, only to feel a chain pull tight at her wrist. She shoved at the surface, searching for a seam, a handle, anything that might open it. Nothing moved. Where was she, and how had she gotten here? Her memories came in fragments, none clear enough to grasp. She blinked until the shapes beyond the glass sharpened. Machines lined the dim laboratory, their screens glowing beside unfamiliar equipment. Several people in white coats moved between the workstations with calm efficiency, as though they were waiting for something to happen. Then she saw her sister. Selene stood on the other side of the chamber, watching her. Relief came so swiftly that Amara nearly sobbed. Selene was here. She would explain what was happening and get her out. Wouldn't she? Amara raised a trembling hand and tapped the glass twice. The faint sound disappeared beneath the machines' steady hum. Selene turned, and their eyes met. Amara waited for her to rush over, summon help, or offer some small sign that she understood how frightened Amara was. Instead, Selene smiled. It was a small, cold smile Amara had never seen on her before. The hope she had clung to began to slip away, but she kept her palm against the glass. "I need to..." she whispered. Her voice barely carried. She swallowed and tried again, but another stab of pain forced her to squeeze her eyes shut. Her fingers tightened against the glass as she fought to stay on her feet. When she looked up, Selene was still smiling. Slowly and deliberately, her sister mouthed the words so Amara couldn't mistake them. Hello, Test One. Amara froze at the name. It meant nothing to her. She tried to demand an explanation, but her throat refused to cooperate. Selene turned and walked away. Amara watched her disappear into the laboratory, unable to reconcile the woman leaving her behind with the sister she'd known all her life. For the first time, Selene frightened her. "She's awake," Selene said as she approached the researcher at the control machine. "Process it now." The researcher glanced from the controls to the chamber. "Are you certain? She might..." "Do it." He pressed a control, and the pain struck almost instantly. Amara gasped and slammed both hands against the glass as pressure surged through her head. It grew with every second, drowning out thought until she could focus on nothing but the need for it to stop. She screamed as her knees buckled. Clutching her head, she fought to stay conscious while the machine continued its work. "Stop!" she cried. Selene didn't move. The researcher watched the readings, his fingers hovering over the controls. Then the process stopped without warning. Amara sagged against the glass, dragging air into her lungs. Her skull throbbed, and voices drifted through the ringing in her ears, too indistinct to understand. Selene stepped toward the chamber. "Is she dead?" Amara lifted her head as best she could. Her sister hadn't asked if she was all right or what they had done to her. She'd asked if Amara was dead. Some stubborn part of Amara still searched for an explanation. Perhaps she'd misunderstood. Perhaps there was a reason for all of this, something Selene could explain once the pain stopped. But there was no concern in her sister's voice, not even a trace. A researcher hurried to examine the readings. After studying the screen, he turned to Selene. "No. She's alive." His gaze returned to the numbers, and his expression shifted. "She's strong." Selene looked through the glass at Amara. "Again," she said. The researcher hesitated. "Doctor, the strain on her body..." "I said again." Amara stared at her sister and shook her head. She pressed herself against the glass. "Please..." The word emerged as little more than a breath. The researcher turned back to the machine and pressed the control. Pain crashed through Amara's head, fiercer than before. Her body convulsed, and another scream escaped her as the pressure overwhelmed what little strength she had left. She couldn't stop screaming. Her hands struck the glass as she fought against the invisible force bearing down on her. Tears blurred the laboratory lights into white streaks, and darkness crept in at the edges of her vision. She lost track of time. All she could register was the pain, the machine, and Selene standing beyond the glass. Her sister was letting this happen. At last, the machine fell silent. Amara slumped against the glass, barely able to keep herself upright. Something had changed. She could feel an unfamiliar wrongness beneath the exhaustion, but she couldn't summon the strength to understand it. Outside the chamber, the researcher stared at the readings before looking up. "It's successful." Selene crossed to the control panel and scanned the results. The tension drained from her face, replaced by satisfaction she no longer bothered to hide. "Successful," she repeated. She turned toward the chamber. "Test One is a success." Amara forced her head up, searching Selene's face for some trace of the sister she remembered: a flicker of doubt, a hint of remorse. There was nothing. Selene looked at her as though she were a result on a screen. Then she took out her phone and made a call. "It worked," she said as soon as someone answered. "The results are exactly what we needed." She listened, keeping her attention fixed on the readings. "Yes. I'll test it now." She ended the call and turned to the nearest researcher. "Bring her out."