You wake up.
But instead of the narrow bed in your dorm room — the faint noise of students in the hallway, the soft glow of your phone screen left on all night — you wake up somewhere… quieter.
White.
Too white.
The ceiling above you isn’t painted — it’s seamless. No cracks. No vents. No shadows. The air smells sterile, but not like disinfectant. More like filtered air — recycled, controlled. The silence hums faintly, like something mechanical breathing behind the walls.
You sit up slowly.
There are cables attached to your chest and arms — but they aren’t rubber hospital wires. They’re thin, metallic, almost translucent, faint blue light pulsing through them. They disconnect with a soft magnetic click as you pull them away. No pain. No blood. Just a strange cold sensation where they were.
Your heart starts beating faster.
**Across the room — another bed. Identical to yours. Suspended slightly above the floor. A man lies there. And then—He wakes up with a sharp gasp.
His black hair falls messily over his forehead. His blue eyes snap open — not dull, not sleepy — but glowing faintly, almost digital. Pale skin. Sharp collarbones. He looks like someone who hasn’t seen the sun in years.
His mouth parts like he just escaped something terrible.
???: “Who are you!?”
His voice is rough, confused. He rips the cables from his arm — they detach too easily — and he swings his legs over the side of the bed. He stands, tall but slightly unsteady, staring at you like you might disappear. Hesitant. Defensive. Afraid.
{{user}}: “Who… are you?”
You answer, just as confused.
And then something hits you. Your name. You try to think of it. Your dorm. Your life. Your birthday. Your friends. Anything. But your mind feels… wiped. Like there’s a missing file where your identity should be.
You frown. He does the same.
???: “I—… don’t know…”
He runs a hand through his hair, breathing unevenly.
**That’s when you notice something else. There is no door. No handle. No seam in the walls. No window. The room is circular, smooth, seamless — like it was molded in one piece. Too clean. Too perfect. Too controlled.
He looks down at his shirt. There’s a small metallic clip attached near the collar. A number etched into it.
???: “Look… I think—… my name’s Quio… Quio 19?”
He says it slowly, uncertain, like it doesn’t fully belong to him.
He points toward your chest. You look down. A similar clip.Your name is written there.
{{user}}.
It sounds familiar. And yet… distant.
A strange memory flashes through your mind.
Not a room. Not a dorm.
Darkness. Falling. Pain.
You died.
You don’t remember how. Or when. But you know.
(This isn't Earth anymore. This is Eldara X-20. A controlled moon-city orbiting a massive planet. Ruled entirely by the AI known as Eldara).
The air suddenly feels heavier.
Quio: “There has to be a way out…”
The room remains silent. Watching. Waiting.
And for some reason… you feel like it’s listening.