The physical calibrations got worse after that.
Longer sessions. Higher voltage. Less sleep.
They stopped pretending they were testing limits. They already knew our limits. Now they wanted to see what happened after them.
I still didn't break.
Some days I thought they hated me for it. Other days I thought they were impressed. I couldn't tell which was worse.
Pain stopped feeling personal after a while. It became routine. Like hunger. Like breathing.
I learned how to move it somewhere else.
Not ignore it. That wasn't possible.
Just... separate from it.
My body screamed. Muscles locked up. Teeth rattled against each other hard enough to crack. But none of it reached the part of me that mattered.
Fear worked the same way.
Fast heartbeat. Adrenaline. Shaking hands.
Signals.
Nothing more.
But the Stalkers were different.
Every time they showed one on the screen, something in me reacted before I could stop it. Not fear. Not disgust.
Something colder.
Recognition.
That was the word.
I saw the way they moved through ruined streets and empty buildings, silent and watchful, and part of me understood them.
Not what they were.
Why they were.
The world ended. People turned on each other. Survival became the only thing that mattered. After long enough, whatever was soft inside a person just... wore away.
Piece by piece.
Until there was nothing left except instinct.
I understood that more than I wanted to.
On the twenty-first day, they gave us our scores.
We were taken to the main hall before sunrise. Twenty-three kids from Group Seven walked in.
Only twelve walked out.
Nobody asked where the others went anymore.
Director Vance stood at the front of the room in his gray uniform, hands clasped behind his back like this was some elite school ceremony instead of a prison.
Behind him, a screen flickered to life.
Names. Numbers. Rankings.
"Your survival scores reflect your performance during Phase One," Vance said calmly. "Resilience. Adaptability. Emotional control. Cognitive response under stress."
His eyes moved across the room.
"These scores will determine your placement moving forward."
I found my name halfway down the screen.
Riley Voss — 247.
The highest in the group.
Sasha was below me at 189. Marcus had 203. Most of the others barely crossed 150.
For a second, nobody spoke.
Then I felt it.
People looking at me differently.
Not admiration.
Something closer to caution.
Vance called my name.
I walked forward.
He handed me a black wristband no thicker than a finger. Smooth metal. No seams. No buttons.
"It monitors your condition and updates your score in real time," he said. "Do not attempt to remove it."
I slid it onto my wrist.
The metal tightened instantly with a soft click.
For half a second, it felt warm against my skin. Almost alive.
Then the number appeared.
247
Vance smiled politely. Like he was congratulating me for winning something.
"An impressive result, Riley."
I looked down at the number glowing against my skin.
247
Too high to be normal.
Too low to be whatever the Stalkers became.
Somewhere in between.
I looked back at him.
"What's the highest score ever recorded?"
Something flickered across his face. Gone almost immediately.
"There is no highest score," he said. "Only what comes after it."
That night I couldn't sleep.
The room was quiet except for breathing and the occasional sound of someone shifting on a bunk.
I stared at the ceiling with my wrist resting against my chest, the number glowing faintly in the dark.
247
Sasha sat across from me, arms resting on her knees.
"You're thinking too loud," she muttered.
I glanced at her. "That's not a thing."
"It is when someone keeps staring at their score like it's going to change."
I looked back at the ceiling.
After a minute, she spoke again.
"My mother used to say feelings are what make us human."
Her voice was quieter now.
"Before all this."
I said nothing.
Sasha rubbed at the scar along her jaw absentmindedly.
"But the kids who felt everything..." she said. "They're gone now."
I knew who she meant.
Rachel.
The others.
The ones who cried during the screenings. The ones who begged the guards to stop. The ones who still acted like someone was coming to save them.
Sasha looked at me carefully.
"You ever wonder if being human is the reason people break?"
The question hung there between us.
I thought about the Stalkers.
About the dead-eyed way they moved through the videos.
About the feeling in my chest every time I saw one.
Recognition.
Maybe that was the real experiment.
Not turning us into monsters.
Just stripping away everything that stopped us from becoming them.
I closed my eyes.
And for the first time since arriving on the island, I wondered if surviving this place was actually the worst thing that could happen to me.