Chapter Thirteen: The Replication Vault
533 Words
Advait’s hands trembled as he stared at the rough sketch marked Z-7 — Replication Vault.
What had Ira meant by “I’m still inside”?
He closed the notebook and stuffed it into his jacket. The forest air was cold and heavy now, and the sun had disappeared completely beneath the mountain line.
There was only one choice.
He had to go back.
Back beneath the second red door.
---
The next morning, armed with a crowbar, a flashlight, and whatever courage he could muster, Advait returned to Purani Kothi.
The welded door was still sealed tight, but through the moss and rubble, he spotted a narrow service hatch near the back of the bunker—just big enough for a person to squeeze through.
It wasn’t clean. Rust flakes fell from the hinges. The smell of damp earth and metal filled his nostrils.
With a grunt, he forced the hatch open and slipped inside.
Inside the narrow tunnel, the air was cold and stale. His flashlight’s beam caught spider webs, broken wiring, and peeling paint.
The corridor forked. The map had marked one path: Z-7.
He chose left, the passage sloping downward.
After several minutes, the narrow walls gave way to a large chamber.
---
The Replication Vault was like a tomb.
Rows of glass pods lined the room—dark and empty, some cracked, others frosted with condensation.
Each pod was connected by a tangle of wires to a massive console filled with blinking lights and screens showing static or fragmented images.
At the far end, a figure sat motionless in a chair—face obscured by shadow.
Advait stepped closer.
A soft cough echoed.
The figure turned.
It was Ira.
But… not really.
Her skin was pale, almost translucent. Her eyes, though open, were glassy, unmoving.
A thin tube ran from her nose to a small box on the floor. Her hands twitched weakly.
“I’m… here,” she whispered.
Her voice was faint, echoing strangely as if coming from a far distance.
Advait’s heart broke.
She was alive. And yet trapped.
“Ira,” he said softly, reaching out, but she recoiled as if he was a stranger.
“The Echo… it’s inside me,” she said. “It copies, it learns, but it’s a prison too. I tried to fight it, but it’s stronger.”
He glanced around.
Screens flickered with distorted voices—some familiar, some not.
He realized the facility wasn’t just erasing people.
It was replicating them.
Creating controlled versions.
Copies bound to The Echo—a digital ghost system harvesting voices and memories to build an endless network of spies and informants.
And Ira… was the first.
The prototype.
---
“I have to shut it down,” Advait said, his voice steady now. “Before it spreads.”
She nodded weakly.
“I left a backdoor,” she whispered. “You can destroy the core… but you’ll need to get past the watchers.”
Suddenly, alarms blared.
Red lights flooded the room.
“Intruder alert! Security breach detected!”
From the shadows, dark figures emerged—silent, relentless.
Advait gripped Ira’s hand tightly.
The fight to end The Echo was just beginning.
- Writer
