The cold silence that followed the collapse was suffocating.
Clyde's body ached, his vision flickering as he tried to make sense of the disorienting void surrounding him. It wasn't the same as before, though. No glitches, no warped corridors. Just emptiness. A never-ending stretch of black and white, like he had been thrown into the heart of an abstract painting.
He reached out, feeling the sensation of cold air that didn't seem to exist. His fingers passed through something, and suddenly, he was falling. Falling through nothing.
"Is this it?" he muttered, the question hanging in the air, unanswered.
The world around him began to shift again, but this time, there was no distortion. No corrupted glitching. Just the slow, inevitable return of something—someone—a voice.
A soft whisper. Familiar.
"You can't run from the truth forever."
The sound of his own name echoed in the distance. It wasn't the same as before, though. This time, it carried with it a weight—a sense of finality.
Clyde twisted his head, trying to locate the source of the voice. "Who's there?"
There was a flash of light, and for the briefest moment, the world around him settled. The endless void was gone, replaced by an image—a face. A woman's face, one he couldn't quite place, but knew from somewhere deep within his subconscious.
"You're not the only one," she said, her voice steady but tinged with sorrow.
"Who are you?" Clyde's throat tightened, his pulse quickening.
The woman's face blurred, as if the reality he was in was beginning to crack again, but her words held strong, unwavering.
"Your past is a lie. Everything you've ever known, everything you've believed—it's all been rewritten."
Clyde's mind reeled. His heart pounded in his chest as the fragments of his memories flickered like old photographs.
"No... that's not true." His voice cracked, desperation creeping in. "I'm not... I'm not some... rewrite."
"You are," the woman said softly. "You were never meant to remember. But now that you have, it's time to make the choice."
Clyde's thoughts raced. The choice? What choice?
Suddenly, the space around him seemed to bend again. The edges of his vision fractured, and he was back in the facility, but it was different. The walls shimmered with a soft blue light, far less hostile than before.
"The time for answers has come," the woman's voice echoed. "Are you ready?"
Clyde swallowed hard, trying to steady his breath. His entire existence felt like it was teetering on the edge of a precipice. If he stepped forward, there was no going back. The truth would unfold—but at what cost?
"Ready or not," he whispered, his voice steady with a resolve he didn't know he had. "I have to know."
And with that, the world fell silent, the woman's image fading into the distance. But the path was set, and Clyde could feel it—the choice had been made.