Chapter 6: Missing Pieces
Maya staggered to her feet, heart hammering.
The mirror on the wall was flawless, a perfect pane of glass that hadn’t been there before. Behind her on her side of the room nothing had changed. But in the reflection…
There was someone standing behind her.
A woman.
Same build. Same clothes. Same movement.
But not her.
This version of Maya stared ahead, expression blank. Her eyes glowed faint red. When Maya turned to look no one was there. Only the flickering monitors.
But in the reflection… the other Maya lifted her hand.
Maya reached out to touch the mirror.
The glass rippled under her fingers, like water.
She yanked her hand back.
The receiver beeped its screen filled with rapidly scrolling code.
Echo signature detected
Subject: CROSS, M.
Condition: Partial imprint present. Reintegration at 72%.
“What the hell does that mean?” Maya whispered.
She backed away and scanned the room for another exit.
In the far-left corner, she noticed a panel slightly ajar. Behind it, a narrow duct system, just big enough to crawl through.
She didn’t hesitate.
For thirty claustrophobic minutes, Maya crawled in the dark, guided only by the flickering signal strength on her receiver. The pulsing grew weaker, and finally, silence. The duct opened behind a bookshelf inside what looked like a long-abandoned library possibly a hidden floor beneath Halstead's town hall.
Dust clouded the air.
Stacks of books, yellowed with age, filled shelves labeled with dates: 1971. 1976. 1982. Each volume marked with red government seals.
Files. Hundreds of them.
She pulled one.
PROJECT HALCYON: PHASE II - Cognitive Conditioning Through Multi-Sensory Broadcasting.
She flipped through page after page of declassified but never publicly released documents. One phrase kept appearing:
Beacon Arrays: Frequency-Carried Perception Manipulation
And beneath that:
“Memory Override Protocol – MK.SV4”
The file showed blueprints for devices scattered around Halstead Beacon 1 through Beacon 7 all of which emitted subtle sound and light frequencies designed to edit public memory. Not just for surveillance but for control. For rewriting what people remembered experiencing.
One page was handwritten, clearly added later Carter’s handwriting.
“Beacon 7 malfunctions. It pulses too long. Repeats data. Loops subject consciousness. Observers get trapped inside memory patterns see page 83.”
Maya flipped.
Page 83 was a report of a subject female, age 34 who was found wandering Halstead’s edge, unable to remember her own name. Her brain showed “mirror-pattern activity.” She believed she was watching herself in real time.
There was a photo attached.
Maya’s blood ran cold.
It was the woman from the bakery.
The one who’d stared at her silently before walking away.
Before she could read more, the bookshelves behind her slammed shut.
She spun around.
A projector mounted on the ceiling flickered to life. A reel began spinning.
Carter’s voice again: “If you found this room, you’re almost there. Beacon 7 is the source. It’s not broadcasting data anymore. It’s broadcasting consciousness. I don’t know if I’m even me anymore. I may be stuck inside the loop repeating transmissions trying to get through to you.”
He paused.
“The receiver can block it temporarily. But if you get too close without proper shielding, it imprints your identity. You become… part of the system.”
The reel stopped.
From a hidden speaker:
“Do you feel it, Maya? The forgetting has already begun.”
Maya stumbled back, clutching the receiver.
A faint hiss rose in her ears. Images of her childhood flashed then vanished. She couldn’t recall her father's face. Or what apartment she lived in. Or how old she was.
“No,” she gasped, digging in her pocket.
She pulled out a black marker. In large letters on her forearm, she wrote:
I AM MAYA CROSS. I AM REAL.
Her hand shook, but the memory anchored her.
Somewhere nearby, a deep rumbling sound shook the floor.
And then
A metal door opened in the far corner of the room, revealing an old tunnel lined with blinking red lights.
At the end, faint but clear
A flickering sign:
B7
