I Woke Up to a Stranger’s Life – Episode 2: The Red Box

[Sound: Faint hospital beeping. Distant murmur of voices behind glass. Then silence.]

When I opened my eyes again, I wasn’t in the white room anymore.

I was in an office.

A massive one. Floor-to-ceiling windows. A skyline of glass and steel. The kind of place that says, “You’re not just successful. You own success.”

Except I didn’t. I still had no idea who the hell I was supposed to be.

I sat up slowly. No wires. No straps. No one else in the room.

Only a desk.

My—her—desk.

On it, a black leather notebook. A cup of coffee. Still warm.

And a single red box.

I stared at it like it might explode.

[Sound: Soft ticking of a clock. The hum of city traffic below.]

I reached for the box. My hands trembled.

It was matte, smooth, no markings. Just a tiny magnetic clasp.

Click.

Inside, nestled in velvet, was a key.

No label. Just a number etched on the side:

“Sublevel 3 – Vault 43A.”

I didn’t know what that meant.

But someone did.

The intercom buzzed. A voice I didn’t recognize said, “Ms. DeWitt, your 10 a.m. has arrived.”

I froze. The voice continued, polite but firm.

“Do you want me to send in Dr. Lennox now?”

Dr. Lennox?

I swallowed. “Give me five minutes.”

“Of course.”


---

[Sound: Elevator chime. Footsteps echo in a steel hallway.]

Sublevel 3 looked nothing like the rest of Nexia Labs. Gone were the glass walls and sunlight. Down here, it was all concrete and cold fluorescent lights.

The air smelled like copper and secrets.

I found Vault 43A behind a thick security door. To my surprise, the key worked.

[Sound: Metal door unlocking. Mechanical hiss.]

Inside the vault was… not what I expected.

A single metal chair. A small desk. And a thick folder labeled:

“Project ORBIT.”

I opened it.

And my heart nearly stopped.

Inside were photos. Of me. Mia Carson. My life.

My apartment. My college records. My hospital visits after my dad died. Even receipts from the coffee shop I went to every Thursday.

And notes.

Pages and pages of notes analyzing my habits, speech patterns, neurological scans…

Like I was a lab rat. Under observation. Monitored. Studied.

One line was highlighted over and over:

> “Subject displays unusual cognitive resilience. Compatible for cross-identity transfer protocol.”



Cross-identity. Transfer.

It wasn’t an accident.

They chose me.


---

[Sound: Sudden knocking. A door opens. Footsteps.]

I whirled around, clutching the file.

A man stepped inside. Mid-forties. Balding, glasses, lab coat.

Dr. Lennox, I guessed.

“You weren’t supposed to find this,” he said quietly.

I backed away. “What did you do to me?”

He sighed, almost kindly. “You were dying, Mia. You just didn’t know it.”

“What?”

“Neurological decay. We detected it six months ago. Early onset degeneration. You had maybe a year.”

I shook my head. “I never— That’s not true—”

“It is. We just never told you. Because we had a better option.”

He stepped closer.

“Mara volunteered. She wanted to live again. You were the perfect match. Physically, neurologically. So we... blended you.”

“You stole my life,” I whispered.

He paused. Then said something I’ll never forget:

> “No. We gave you hers.”




---

[Sound: Echoing footsteps. Running. Elevator descending rapidly.]

I don’t remember running back to the elevator. I just remember gripping the folder like my life depended on it.

Because it did.

They had swapped my identity like a SIM card. And everyone in this building was in on it.

They knew I wasn’t Mara.

They were watching to see how long it would take me to figure it out.

The elevator doors opened—and there she was.

Mara.

Not a video. Not a reflection.

Mara. In the flesh.

Standing in the lobby. Wearing the same face as me. Same eyes. Same voice.

But she looked... older. Worn.

And smiling.

“You found the vault,” she said softly. “Good.”

“I want my life back,” I snapped.

She tilted her head. “You can’t. Not fully. But you can still make a choice.”

“A choice?”

She held up her hand.

And in her palm, two vials.

One blue. One red.

One marked "Reversion."

The other marked "Assimilation."

“This,” she said, “is your exit strategy.”


---

[Sound: One heartbeat. Then silence.]

To be continued...