Pilar carefully loaded the vials into the minus-seventy freezer and closed the door. A feminine, monotone voice emitted from the screen on the front. “Slots B3, B4, and B5 filled. Please state contents and authorized user identification.”

“Pilar Armada, user gamma six nine two. B3 content DNA, specimen eighteen, sample three. B4 content DNA, specimen eighteen, sample four. B5 content DNA, specimen eighteen, sample five.” She stood in front of the retinal scanner, eyes wide, as the light passed over. Blinking away the brightness, she heard the freezer door seal and lock and sighed with relief. She’d made it through another shift.

The lab was empty aside from her. She’d had to work over to make up for missing the day before. It was worth it, though. With the help of that sleeping pill–and a second one she’d taken in the middle of the night–she’d slept nearly sixteen hours straight. The dreamless sleep made way for waking hours that were likewise unplagued with any improbable voices.

She avoided looking at the flammable cabinets as she made her way to the exit, the click-clacking of her shoes on the smooth floor echoing in the silent room.

She avoided looking. And yet…

Movement caught her eye.

She stopped in the middle of the lab, the bright overhead lights illuminating the sea of chrome equipment. She pressed her lips together, her breath catching. She turned toward the movement to see the metal door on the furthest flammable cabinet sliding open and not-quite-closed, over and over again.

Pilar swallowed. She hadn’t gone near the flammable cabinets today. Maybe Nicola had earlier. Maybe the door had been malfunctioning the entire time she’d been in here alone, too focused on her work to notice.

Yes, that must be it.

She laughed internally at her jumpiness and turned to walk back toward the cabinet. As she got closer, the sound of the electronic hiss of the door flitted into her ears along with the slight ting of metal kissing glass.

A vial had made its way onto the track of the door, blocking it from closing and catalyzing the never-ending cycle of the door’s unsuccessful attempt to seal the cabinet shut. Pilar crouched down to pluck the vial from its path, allowing the door to finally fit into place.

“Hello there, friend,” she said, passing her thumb over the label that read Control. “What were you doing in the flammable cabinet?”

She lazily set the vial of water in a nearby rack, leaving it for someone else to deal with, and made for the exit again.

“What were you doing in the flammable cabinet?”

As the voice surrounded her, Pilar stumbled, gripping a nearby counter. She frantically searched the lab with her eyes, but her efforts revealed the disturbing truth she knew they would: she was alone.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice barely more than a croak.

Pilar’s fingertips pressed into the metal as she clung to the counter, not daring to make the slightest movement or sound as she waited for a response.

But none came.

It was late. Late enough that most of the common areas would be empty, or nearly so. Still, she would try. First the mess, then the gym, then the rec. And if there was really no one–no one she could see–to keep her company, she would swallow three of those sleeping pills to make sure this someone didn’t disturb her again.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

She pushed herself off the counter, the liquids in the vial rack gently shifting with the force.

“You are not real,” she said as she took a step. “You are not real.” She took another, the distance between her and the door shrinking. “You are not real.” Another. She repeated the mantra with each step until she made it to the door and simultaneously lined her eye up to the retinal scanner as she pressed her palm on the button to open it.

The door slid open and Pilar took a step into the hall, expecting to hear the monotone feminine voice as she always did when leaving. But she didn’t hear the usual Thank you for your service, user gamma six nine two. Instead, she heard the whispered voice again.

“Real.”

#

There had been a table of three in the mess. Pilar knew the name of only one of them, and only knew that because she’d overheard it once. Still, she sidled up and asked if she could join. The three men exchanged glances, their boisterous smiles falling a bit, but they’d acquiesced. Each had a glass of brown liquor in front of them, and when one drained his a few minutes later, he rose to get a refill. Upon his return, he placed a full glass in front of Pilar as well.

As she drank, thoughts of the voice were pushed to the back of her mind. Instead, she focused on the jokes the men told, the way they laughed and patted one another’s backs, how the youngest squealed when he laughed a bit too hard after taking a sip and the burning liquid trickled out of his nose. It was enough to have her smiling along. What she didn’t notice was the nosy woman who passed by, eyeing the foursome, nor did she notice when the woman tapped something on the comm device wrapped around her wrist.

But she certainly noticed the result of that sent message.

“You’re…drinking?” Florence seemed to arrive by magic, Pilar’s attention too focused on the oldest man’s story about seeing an honest to gods alien when he was a boy, much to the middle one’s insistence that aliens don’t exist.

Pilar looked up at her friend, then glanced at her half-full glass–her third one, though Florence needn’t know that–and swirled the contents around with the flick of her wrist. “I worked late and didn’t want to go back to my room yet.”

“But you’re drinking.” Florence’s voice cracked, her eyes glued to the glass in Pilar’s hand. “I thought you’d never touch the stuff after–”

“I wasn’t ready to go back to my room,” Pilar interrupted. “I needed to decompress after work.”

The blond woman raised an eyebrow at her, and the widow looked away. The three men she’d found to keep her company had all stopped speaking. The two older gentlemen kept their eyes down, one clearing his throat. The youngest watched the confrontation, a slight smile gracing his lips.

“She knows you’re lying.”

This time the voice didn’t seem to surround her, but whispered directly in her ear. Pilar nearly thought she could feel the warmth of breath caress her neck. Her head instinctively twisted around to see who was so close to her. But of course, no one was there.

“Pilar,” Florence said, her voice sharp and commanding, forcing the widow to slowly turn her attention back to her. “Would you like to go to your room now? I’ll go with you?” Her voice was much gentler now, the way Pilar’s mother had spoken to her grandmother near the end.

Pilar stood, nodding to the men. “Thank you for the drinks and the laughs,” she said with a smile, rapping her knuckles across the table.

As the two women left, Pilar heard the men continue their joviality as if nothing had disturbed them at all. She glanced at Florence out of the corner of her eye. Seeing the grim expression on the blond woman, she regretted leaving them for her. Still, she continued down the hall with her friend, their elbows linked.

“Are you okay?” Florence asked when they approached Pilar’s new room, the widow having to lead the way. “Drinking after what happened to Rory,” she shook her head, “missing work, not sleeping…”

“I slept plenty last night and I worked extra today,” Pilar corrected, careful to leave her voice emotionless as she’d learned to do over the years to avoid more confrontation. She pulled Florence into her, laying her head on the woman’s shoulder for a moment before using the eye scanner to unlock her door. “I’m fine.”

Florence followed her in, looking over the piles of clothes still strewn across the floor. “Mmhmm.”

“She knows you’re lying.”

For the first time, Pilar didn’t react to the voice. Whether because of the alcohol or that she was simply getting used to it, she didn’t know. But she didn’t flinch and she didn’t question it. She simply ignored it.

“Sorry, I haven’t finished settling in,” she said, pushing the clothes out of the way.

Florence’s mouth moved, but try as she might, Pilar couldn’t hear her speak. Instead, the voice filled her head.

“She knows, Pilar. What are you going to do about it?”