She awoke to silence.
Not the peaceful kind. The kind that crawled under the skin — a silence so still it pressed against her skull like static. Rachel opened her eyes to a flat white ceiling and blinking fluorescent lights, one of which buzzed with a flickering hum like it wanted to die but couldn't.
For a moment, she couldn't remember her name.
Her body wouldn't move. Her fingers didn't twitch. It was like she was being held in place by invisible hands.
Then came the voice. Not from outside, but inside — cold, synthetic, threaded with something too smooth to be human.
[Welcome, Rachel Halden.]
[FEEDBACK System initializing. Do not resist.]
Her heart seized. The muscles in her jaw tensed as if trying to scream, but nothing came. Panic crawled up her throat.
[Vitals stabilizing.]
[Cognitive response: irregular.]
[Psychological resistance detected: 71%. Adjusting calibration.]
Suddenly, a sharp sting at her temple. A flash. A fractured image.
A birthday cake. Eight candles. A woman crying in the background.
Then — nothing.
She gasped, dragging in a breath that felt like it was her first in years. Her body jolted upright as if snapped loose from invisible restraints. Cold sweat clung to her skin.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The heart monitor beside her came alive. A screen above her head blinked on, showing her face. No... not quite her face. Something in the eyes was off — duller, blank.
[System Sync: 87%]
[New Trait Acquired: Emotional Lag]
[System Note: Subject presents fragmented recall. Recommend restricted access to core functions.]
"What the hell..." Rachel croaked, voice dry like ash.
She tore the electrodes from her chest. Pain stabbed her side. Tubes yanked free, blood dotting the sheets. The door at the far end of the sterile hospital room remained closed.
She was alone.
Or so she thought
Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Calm, slow. A man's voice murmured, "Subject 112's reaction is progressing faster than projected. We'll need to initiate Stage Two within the hour."
Another voice, female, replied, "She shouldn't be conscious yet. Protocol says full sedation for the first seventy-two."
Rachel's breath caught.
[Warning: Threat proximity increasing.]
[Emergency Trigger Engaged.]
[Quest: Escape Before Recalibration]
Time Remaining: 05:00
Reward: Partial System Menu Access
Failure Penalty: Identity Freeze — 72 Hours
A countdown began in the corner of her vision.
Five minutes.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, nearly falling. Her knees buckled but she caught the bedrail. The hospital gown hung loosely from her shoulders.
There were no windows. Only a single cabinet and a locked metal drawer.
She opened it. Found a hoodie, too large, and a pair of cheap canvas sneakers. No phone. No ID. No explanation.
The system spoke again.
[+5 FP: Self-Directed Initiative]
[Trait Activated: Minor Instinct Boost]
She didn't know what "FP" meant. Didn't care.
Rachel staggered to the door and cracked it open.
Two figures in white lab coats stood with tablets outside. They hadn't seen her yet.
[Analyzing NPC Hostility Index...]
Result: 92% Compliance Risk. Suggest Evade.]
"Compliance risk" — what kind of place was this?
The timer ticked.
04:07
She slid down the hallway wall, moving low, heart thudding in sync with the system's quiet chimes. A stairwell at the end of the hall blinked green.
Halfway there, she knocked a tray loose. Steel clattered against tile.
The voices turned.
"She's awake!"
03:53
Rachel ran.
The stairwell swallowed her whole. Down. Down. Footfalls echoing behind her. The red emergency light pulsed. Her breath tore from her throat, and the taste of metal filled her mouth.
She found a door labeled STORAGE. Slammed into it. Locked.
[System Intervention Available — Cost: 3 FP]
Without hesitation, she accepted.
The lock clicked.
Inside were old files, dust-thick monitors, and a narrow janitor's closet. She squeezed in.
[Time Remaining: 02:41]
Her breath slowed. The footsteps passed.She burst from the closet after a moment, eyes scanning. Clear.
She pushed through another exit door and found herself in a service corridor. Empty. Yellow walls, exposed pipes, and silence that felt too clean.
Then it happened.
[Emergency Override Initiated.]
The world froze.
Literally.
The lights dimmed to crimson. The air thickened. A ringing started in her ears — low at first, then rising.
A new voice broke through.
Not robotic. Familiar.
Masculine.
"Don't stop running, Rachel. Don't trust what talks back."
The sound came from everywhere and nowhere. It wasn't from a speaker — it was inside her thoughts.
[Override Source: Levi_Sigma // Role: External Operator]
[Manual Intervention Authorized — 13 seconds]
Her vision split.
For a flicker of a second, she saw herself from above — like a camera feed. A cold white square on the floor beneath her feet glowed faintly, and three red dots moved toward it.
Then the world snapped back.
She ran.
At the ground floor, a side door burst open.
A man stood there, holding keys, breathing hard. Scruffy. Familiar.
"Harris?" she whispered.
He didn't ask questions. Just grabbed her wrist.
"We don't have time."
The van smelled like oil and cigarettes. Rachel curled in the back seat, legs trembling, hoodie soaked through with sweat.
They drove in silence for ten minutes. Then Harris spoke.
"You're not supposed to be awake."
"Where was I?"
He didn't answer.
She stared at him. "What the hell is going on? Why am I seeing... things? Voices? Pop-ups?"
"Because you got chosen."
"For what?"
"The Program."
Rachel blinked. "I didn't sign up for anything."
"No one does."
She slumped against the window. Her breath fogged the glass.
[+15 FP: Critical Awareness Triggered]
[Trait: Resistance (Locked) — Progress: 12%]
"What's FP?" she asked.
Harris didn't turn around.
"Feedback Points. They decide how much of yourself you keep."
Rachel turned that over in her head. Her throat dried.
[System Alert: 03:00 until Surveillance Ping]
They weren't safe. Not yet.
Harris pulled off the road. Into a wooded trail. An old RV waited under camouflage tarp.
"This is where you'll lay low," he said.
"And you?"
He didn't answer. Just pressed a file into her hands. Photos. Notes. Maps. One of them had her face. One had her mother's. Redacted. Eyes blacked out.
She looked up, stunned. Harris was gone.
As the RV engine purred awake and Rachel closed the door, she knew there was no going back.
The Program had started.
And the system whispered again:
[You are no longer a student.]
[You are a subject.]
[Welcome to FEEDBACK]