The second week of the reduced-activity trial has ended, and still, there have been no new developments. No Claim. No Null. No scout reveals. No one pushing against Factory 24.
It's started to feel like the trial might actually work. Everyone is calm now. It's been three weeks since the attack on Factory 24, and the storm feels like it has passed entirely.
People are having fun again. They play games, walk around, talk, and do their own things like normal. The factory doesn't feel nearly as tense as it did before. It really feels like everything might calm down and go back to normal.
Mel is almost the same as she used to be.
Almost.
I can still tell there's something underneath it all, like part of her is waiting for something to happen again. Whenever I notice that feeling in her, I make sure to stay by her side and comfort her.
But there's still the third week of the trial.
That's the part that worries me the most.
If The Claim knows about it, they might use the calm of the first two weeks to surprise us in the third. I won't let them do that.
Is what I would've said.
But it seems I won't be able to participate in the third week.
Why?
Because I had another stroke.
Last time, it happened during science class, when Mr. White started talking about the brain and the part of it that stores memory. That triggered it. I fell to the floor crying like my head was splitting open.
This time, Mom, Dad, Melanie, and I were all eating dinner together yesterday—eight days before August first, the end of the trial. Melanie and I didn't talk about the factory much, and our parents never really asked about it, but there was still normal small talk at the table.
There was no trigger.
That's what made it worse.
I thought there would've been some connection between the memory and whatever was happening around me, but that doesn't seem to be fully true. Maybe it will be in the future, but this time it wasn't.
We were eating chicken breasts and mashed potatoes with gravy. When I went to take a bite of the mashed potatoes, I felt a small pain in my head. It was almost like a headache starting.
But it only grew.
And grew.
Until it became unbearable.
I tried to hide it, but Melanie noticed something was wrong.
"■■■■■? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I just got a killer headache out of nowhere. I just need to drink some water."
Mom and Dad looked up from their plates.
Then everything got worse.
"Holy sh—■■■■■!"
This time was different. It wasn't nearly as painful as the first one, but I still passed out. No trigger. No screaming. No crying. I still don't know why.
I dropped to the floor unconscious.
———————————————————————
The memory was fragmented.
Far more than the last one.
Way harder to follow, more chaotic, less explanatory.
The first scene I saw was a parking lot.
It was dark and stormy, but there seemed to be lights somewhere off in the distance lighting parts of it up. The lot was empty. Not a single car in sight. Not a single person either. I couldn't even see a building attached to it, at least not from the angle I was looking from.
I'd never seen that parking lot before.
I've been to every street and building in ■■■■■■, and I know for a fact that parking lot isn't there.
So where is it?
The scene changed quickly. I was still in the parking lot, but now I couldn't control where I was looking. I was stuck facing one direction.
And it was low.
Ground level.
I was staring at a storm drain right in front of me. Water was rushing in from all sides, pouring into it as the rain hammered the concrete.
Then, at some point, the water turned red.
Not all of it.
But most of it.
Why is the water red?
Is that blood?
Whose blood is it?
Mine?
I don't even know if this memory is from my perspective in my last life. In the last one, I was looking from an outsider's point of view. I could look at myself the same way I'd see myself in a mirror.
But this time, I was locked into it.
I could only see what was in front of me.
And what I saw was blood.
A lot of it.
Flowing across the concrete and into the storm drain.
The scene cut again.
I hated the sudden cuts.
I couldn't keep up.
This time, everything was pitch black, but I could hear a voice.
Shouting.
Screaming.
Panic.
It was a girl's voice.
"Stop it! You'll actually kill him!" she yelled.
I didn't know who she was yelling at, but I knew she wasn't joking. Someone was about to kill "him."
I didn't know who "him" was. And I didn't know who was about to kill him.
But I couldn't help feeling like "him" was me.
Does that mean I died early in my past life?
Then the memory shifted again.
It was like a camera being tilted upward.
And for the first time, I could see who was screaming.
My view rose and locked onto a girl standing in the rain. Her long blonde hair was soaked through and hanging in messy strands around her face. Even through the storm, I could tell she was beautiful—but not softly so. Her features were sharp, her expression fierce, and her whole body looked tense, like she was trying to throw herself between two people at once.
I recognized her immediately.
Elaine.
It had been so long since I'd last seen her, but I knew it was her.
That was what shocked me most.
Why was Elaine there?
How did she get wrapped up in this?
She was still yelling at someone outside my vision, trying to stop something, trying to stop someone from being killed.
But I still couldn't see who she was protecting.
Or who the killer was.
Then the memory cut again.
Now I was in Factory 24.
I saw myself.
I looked older. Not fully grown, but older. Sixteen, maybe? Right now I'm still ten, so if I don't mature quickly, this memory won't happen for a long while.
I was standing on a table, similar to when I announced myself as the Monarch of 24. Everyone else was sitting below me.
Not one smile.
They all looked defeated.
I looked dark. My face couldn't be made out clearly, but my posture said enough.
I was in control.
I had truly become the Monarch of 24.
Everyone was below me.
Both physically and mentally.
I recognized a lot of faces in the memory.
Andrew. Josh. Melanie. Mel. Liam. Leo. George. Sarah. Hailey. John. Alex.
And many others.
The factory was packed full of people. Around four hundred at most.
Some of them I'd never seen before.
A lot of them were younger children.
And yet they were all below me.
Even my current enemies looked like they were bowing down to their king.
It was disturbing.
I had won.
Completely.
But I knew there was something wrong with it. Something I couldn't put my finger on. Like I had to lose something huge in order to achieve all of that.
This isn't what I want.
This isn't what becoming a monarch should mean.
This was a dictatorship.
———————————————————————
I woke up.
And when I did, I wasn't even thinking about being in the hospital, or about my crying family at my side.
I was still thinking about the aftermath of the memory.
Then Dr. Blanc walked into the room and cut off my thoughts.
"Hello, ■■■■■," he said. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon."
I didn't want to say anything. I was tired, and I still had a small headache.
"I'm going to need you to answer some questions again. Protocol."
"What is your name?"
I sighed.
"My name is ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■. I live in ■■■■■■, ■■■■■■. I am in the hospital probably because I had another stroke."
He smiled.
"Saving me some time. Alright, you look pretty good right now, but this is the second stroke you've had in three months," he said. "Actually, I wouldn't consider them strokes at this point. I'm just not too sure what they are."
What?
Did he find something out?
"What do you mean?"
"Well, while you were unconscious, we ran a scan on your brain."
Huh? They can just do that?
"For a brief window, the scans showed a localized separation in the tissue surrounding the hippocampal region—something that should not have been possible without severe trauma."
I didn't know what he was talking about, so I let him continue.
"Essentially, the part of your brain tied to memory storage split open."
"Split open?"
"Yes, that's the best non-scientific way to put it," he said. "Your family told us you said you had a severe headache and passed out. Do you recall that?"
"I do."
"Good. We're going to keep you here for at least a week to run more tests and make sure you aren't suffering memory loss or anything similar."
I looked over at Mom and Dad.
They looked both relieved and scared.
I had just woken up from something the doctor himself couldn't fully explain, but I was responding normally.
And now I was supposed to stay here for a week?
What about the trial? I needed to be at the factory for that.
"W-wait... I can't stay here for a week! I have to go to Factory 24!"
Melanie wasn't happy with that reaction.
"■■■■■! Your brain split open and you're talking about the factory!?"
Well, that was fair.
Can't blame her there.
But it was the final week of the trial. The Claim, Null, Factory 24—it was all still unresolved. And now I had to be stuck here getting my brain tested while the trial was still going on?
What if something happened?
What if The Claim purposely waited until the last week to catch us off guard?
And I couldn't be there for it?
I was spiraling.
They didn't give me much time to spiral, though.
Dr. Blanc kept talking.
"Now, I know you must have things you want to do, and you think you're normal right now, but you never know what might change. Since you're awake, we want to run another scan on your brain as soon as possible to see if it looks different while active."
I was reluctant, but I had no choice.
After a few hours, we finished the scan, and I heard the results.
"So, ■■■■■... after you regained consciousness and we ran the same tests, the separation had vanished. The brain had returned to a near-normal structure, aside from subtle changes in the networks tied to long-term memory."
I knew it.
It was the memory forcing itself into my brain.
"So, even though we still have no idea what happened, we can't test something we can't see anymore. I'm confident you'll be able to get out of here in a week from now."
Great.
I still get to miss the trial.
But that still didn't bother me as much as it should have.
Because there was something bigger to bother me.
Why now?
Why those scenes?
Why the blood?
Why Elaine?
Why that future?
Why am I being shown pieces instead of answers?