> July 30, 2024 - Johnson Space Center, Houston, Texas
"What... what do you mean they're returning?"
"It's confirmed. Some of those who vanished are reappearing exactly where they were last seen. Even the military has verified it; selected soldiers have reappeared roughly 10 hours after the tower emerged."
"You mentioned the number of missing people is over 100,000, with estimates still uncertain, right? How many have come back? Is it happening all at once, or are they returning one by one, or...?"
"We're still investigating, Stephen," the voice on the phone paused for a moment. "So far, the returnees are coming back sporadically, not all at once. There doesn't seem to be any discernible pattern yet."
"What condition are they in? Are they... are they okay?"
A heavy sigh came from the other end, followed by a long pause. "Physically, they seem fine, but..."
"But what?!"
"But emotionally, they're a wreck. They act like the world around them is alien, and they start crying as soon as they reappear." The voice hesitated, then continued with a grim tone. "Those who have been coherent enough to talk, especially the more prepared soldiers who handled the situation better, described being in a featureless white room for what felt like hours or even days. No food, no water, no interactions, nothing. At some point, a knife appeared, and they thought ending their own life was the only escape. They did it, only to wake up back here, alive but deeply traumatized."
Stephen frowned, remaining silent as he processed the information. "They... they took their own lives and then reappeared back where they were?"
"Yes," the voice confirmed. "At a certain point, a knife appeared in the middle of the room, and they used it to end their lives. Most of them reported this. However, some claimed they were in the afterlife and reincarnated, others simply forgot everything that happened, a few said they were kidnapped and tortured, and some are still in comas. We're waiting for their reports."
"What is the government going to do about this? What about the media? The scale of this is massive..."
"We've already coordinated the initial media response. However, you know how the media operates these days... a lot of chaos is bound to follow. To be honest, Stephen, we are not prepared for this."
"No one was."
"We're having a special meeting tomorrow to discuss our next course of action. I'll keep you updated on what I can, though I'm sure we'll have to sign very strict confidentiality agreements."
"That's fine. I'm already grateful you took my call and explained more than you should have. I just feel... overwhelmed. I understood how much life can change from one point to another, but I always thought that harsh transitions happened on a small scale, to individuals or groups. But a transition so sudden for humanity as a whole ... damn."
"I understand," the voice sighed. "And about the call, what's with all the formality? I promised my brother I would take care of you. Whatever you need, don't hesitate to give your old uncle a call. That said, with how busy I'll be with all this alien stuff, I can't promise my schedule will be very open," he chuckled.
"Thanks," Stephen said, looking out through the window in his office. "I also miss a particular coworker of mine who got... —uncle?"
"... we can see inside!? What do you mean... a link? A..."
"Uncle George, is everything okay?"
"Sorry, Stephen, I'll call you back later."
Stephen held the phone in his hand, a frown showing on his face. He looked at the screen and saw that the call had ended.
He put the phone down on the desk, the frown deepening.
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"They can see inside?"
image [https://i.imgur.com/EPU265m.png]
Alonso calmly stared at it.
It was watching him too, but it did not move from its position.
He looked back and noticed that the staircase he had used to come up had vanished. It was as he had expected.
He looked at it again and then at the rest of the room. There was nothing more, just the typical white walls.
‘Just another white room.’
The challenge here was quite straightforward: a sword, a circle, and a creature in the middle of the circle.
“No cage this time? No bait?” he whispered to himself as he calmly walked forward.
He reached for the sword lying on the floor, just outside the red circle. The sword looked like a plain guard medieval sword, if it wasn't one.
Before picking it up, he raised his head and stared at the creature. It was not the same creature he had fought in the cage or during his frenzied killing spree.
This one was bigger. If the other stood at maybe 1.40 meters, then this one was around 1.60 meters. But that was not the main difference. The main difference was held tightly in the creature's hand: a sword.
He crouched and picked up the sword. It was quite heavy but not overly so.
He noticed the creature remained still, as expected. The red circle drawn on the floor had to be there for a reason.
Assessing the sword in his hand, memories from his previous fights in that dreamlike illusion began to surface. He swung the sword experimentally, practicing several stances he somehow remembered from books and movies. At first, it felt awkward. The sword was different from the knife he was used to, heavier and more cumbersome.
But as he continued practicing, his movements became more fluid. The sword started to feel more natural in his grip, each swing smoother than the last. His mind was focused, and his body responded incredibly well. It was as if he had actually developed muscle memory from all those battles in that dream state. But then... were they real or not?
He calmed his mind again, deciding this was not the time for questions that had no answer. He continued swinging the sword, his confidence growing with each pass. The room around him faded into the background as he concentrated on perfecting his form. His strikes became more precise, his footwork more deliberate.
After a while, he paused, breathing heavily but feeling a sense of accomplishment. He looked at the creature again, standing motionless within the circle.
‘I have time but only one chance,’ he thought. He looked back at the sword and continued practicing.
***
He was sweating and exhausted, his forearms burning and sore. He had no idea how much time had passed.
He put the sword down and walked to the barrel. He poured some water over himself and wet his mouth but decided to wait before drinking. His body was still agitated from the intense exercise, and he needed to cool down first.
He sat down in a lotus position and focused on his breath. After some time, he drank a bit of water. It was refreshing.
He looked at the creature and the circle.
He chuckled and reclined his head back against the wall with a smile. He decided to take a nap.
***
He woke up slowly, staring around the room as he yawned and stretched.
Standing up, he picked up the sword and practiced for a bit, his movements now more refined and precise. The earlier practice had paid off.
After a few minutes, he turned his attention back to the creature. It still stood motionless within the red circle, waiting.
He took a deep breath. His grip on the sword tightened. Fear gnawed at him. He knew there was a high possibility he might die here, right now. And even if he survived, he knew his chances of escaping this prison, or whatever the hell it was, were as close to zero as it could be.
But even then...
He took a step forward.
He had already come this far...
He took another step.
He wanted to prove something...
Another step.
He wanted to show them...
Another step.
He wanted them to see him strong. He wanted them to see him live.
Another step.
He had lived then. He stared ahead at the abomination holding the sword. He would live now.
“Mom, Dad,” he took one last step. “Wait for me.”
He smiled.
He entered the circle.