Chetan's POV
I woke up without knowing how long I had slept.
The white light that filled the room made it impossible to distinguish day from night, and nothing in my surroundings could help me gauge the passage of time. The ceiling was perfectly smooth, the walls had no openings, and the floor bore no marks that might indicate another person had been there recently.
I sat on the bed for a few moments to observe my surroundings.
No pain.
No particular weaknesses.
My breathing was regular and my mind was functioning normally.
So I could think.
My recovery is finally complete.
NOW...…
My gaze fell upon the figure standing a few meters away from me.
The white mask was still there, that strange thing.
He hadn't moved.
His voice and the lullaby he uses, how can she know so much?
I got out of bed.
She followed me with her eyes.
– Are you planning to stay planted there for long?
No response.
He looked like a child being punished in his corner.
I approached the wall and slowly ran my fingers over its surface. The material was cold and perfectly smooth. I tapped it twice with my knuckles, then waited.
The sound was immediately absorbed.
I started again a few centimeters away with more force.
The result was the same.
It wasn't just a simple wall.
It was probably designed to prevent vibrations from propagating.
I looked up at the ceiling. No ventilation system was visible, but the air circulated sufficiently to maintain a constant temperature. There must therefore be some kind of system behind the walls.
An exit also had to exist.
It could be invisible, automated, or controlled from the outside, but it definitely existed.
An installation capable of keeping multiple subjects alive could not function without technical access.
I turned towards the mask.
– you're not going out anymore
– N.
He uttered my supposed name before I could even speak further.
I squinted slightly.
– a machine without thinking.
– N.
His voice contained no emotion.
I approached him.
– Who told you to watch me?
The mask tilted its head slightly to the side as if it didn't understand anything.
No response.
– You've been calling me N since I woke up. So I assume that name corresponds to something in your data.
The creature remained silent.
I continued:
– If N is my identifier, what is Eugene's?
The masked man slowly raised a hand and placed a finger against his chest.
– N.
I watched his gesture.
That didn't sound like an answer.
Rather, it's a confirmation.
I turned around and didn't ask him any more questions.
His identity wasn't the most important thing at the moment.
I mostly needed to get out.
I went back to the wall and carefully examined the room. The joints were almost invisible, but some areas showed a slight difference in temperature. I crouched down and ran my fingers along the floor.
Nothing.
I stood up and looked at the ceiling.
Still nothing.
The mask looked at me without intervening.
That was strange too.
If his job was to monitor me, he should have reacted to my search. Yet, he let me inspect the room without even trying to stop me.
Either he was certain that I couldn't go out.
Either he was waiting for me to discover something.
In both cases, I had to remain cautious.
I approached the bed and examined its structure. It was fixed to the floor; the fasteners seemed light enough not to withstand an attempt at dismantling it. I looked up at the mask, but before I could even act on my idea, he grabbed my arm and murmured
– N needs to sleep.
anything .
I sat back down on the bed and crossed my arms.
Beta-1 had to be somewhere in that facility. I needed to understand the building's structure before attempting anything.
– (Can you get inside my head?)
She was staring at me.
– Can you open it?
Still no response.
This mask merely tilts the head slightly. Then he uttered a sentence that had no apparent connection to my question.
– She sings so that N will sleep.
A woman's voice briefly crossed my memory.
I recognized her but couldn't quite picture her face.
he starts again
– You use my memories to keep me docile.
There was no response; he just continued to sing louder.
– STOP, I'm rather bad at obeying.
I got up and turned around on the bed ties.