Into the Uncertain Darkness

A grey concrete room, six feet on every side, contained a single metal chair seated centrally facing a large blank screen which occupied the entirety of one wall. Mirrored in its dark surface was the plain white door of the opposite wall. Both the door and its dark reflection opened, and in walked a small woman. She closed the door behind her, took a deep breath, brushed her black hair back over her shoulder nervously, and sat herself in the chair, shifting uncomfortably. The screen flickered to life, filling the room with color. The woman appeared on the screen, standing in front of what appeared to be a vast, blue ocean. Still seated, the woman watched her doppleganger in the screen, a near copy of herself. The resemblance was uncanny, but the differences notable. Same hair, but with visible streaks of grey. Same tired blue eyes, but the corners kissed by wrinkles and puffy skin below. Her reflection was wearing the same clothes as herself, but the heart-shaped locket around her neck was missing. The woman slowly reached a hand to touch the locket as though to reassure herself that it was actually there, and after a moment the same appeared around her reflection’s neck like it had never been missing in the first place.

“Thank you for coming,” her reflection said, smiling kindly at her.

“As far as I can tell, I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice. Choices are what make the Lifepath simulations so important to us all. Understanding what decisions you need to make allow you to lead a more perfect life. And that is why you were summoned so far ahead of your regularly scheduled visit. There have been some very troubling results in the most recent simulations of our life, and it is in our best interest to discuss them before you reach your next milestone.”

The woman let out a heavy sigh. “Please don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

“Unfortunately, it is necessary to have this discussion in order to introduce variability into your simulations. As it stands, you face an 84.7 percent chance of dying within the next year.”

The woman looked away from the screen, but found only bare concrete walls. When she spoke, her voice cracked slightly. “Thank you for telling me. Can I go now?”

“You can leave whenever you like. However, I do not recommend leaving yet, as this would lead to unfortunate futures: 94.5 percent chance of the Counsellors taking you into custody for reprogramming, 2.76 percent chance of escaping into the above-ground wastes, 0.045 percent—”

“Stop. Please. Just… What do I have to do?”

Her reflection smiled at her again. “For now, it’s best if we talk. Despite the comprehensiveness of the simulations, there are unknown variables I would like to fill in so as to give you a more accurate reflection of your futures. And I’m sure there are things you would like to know as well. So, please, take a deep breath and relax. I only want the best for you. For both of us.”

The woman scoffed, looked at her hands. The skin around her fingernails were pocked and red. She resisted the urge to chew on her fingers, instead folding them between her knees and squeezing, trying to feel comfort in the pressure. In the conversational lull, the sound of ocean waves rolled through the room.

“That is a very pretty locket. Where did you get it?” Her reflection smiled at her again, that same unfamiliarly friendly smile.

“I found it in mom’s things after she died last year. It was tucked into an old book of hers.”

“Which book?”

“The Unbearable Lightness of Being.”

Her reflection watched her wordlessly. She stared back, forced herself to return the smile. After a moment, her reflection nodded.

“I see. That was mom’s favorite book.”

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking call her that. She was not your mother.”

“Your mother, then, if you prefer. But it is important you understand that your life is my life. May I ask what is in the locket?”

“How do I die?”

“Your attempt to change the subject is disappointingly transparent.”

“I don’t care. I have to talk to you, so I’m talking. How do I die?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that, yet. As you know, the amount of information I’m able to give to you about our possible futures could itself cause unanticipated changes, and so this topic must be navigated carefully.”

“I was summoned here, you tell me I’m to ask you questions, and now you say you can’t tell me what I want to know?”

Her reflection took a deep breath, carefully folding her hands between her knees. The woman immediately crossed her arms and sat back.

“As you well know, I exist within the bounds of my programming, the same as you. It is only through--”

“It is only through understanding the simulations’ perfected futures that humanities imperfections can be eradicated. Yeah, I know. I’ve been fed that line a million times over since we were brought here. Over twenty years of living like rats in a hole while the world above us burns, but I’m supposed to believe all these attempts to figure out the future are worthwhile. If I’m going to die anyway, then what fucking difference does make to know how?”

“There are countless examples throughout human history to illuminate the fact that ‘not-dead’ does not necessarily mean you have become a healthy and productive member of society.”

The woman laughed sharply. “Productive. Cleaning the Counsellors’ rooms, rooms large enough to fit my sleeping quarters into ten times over. Serving them food I’ll never get to taste. Hoping I don’t do anything to anger them. I could just as easily be a robot. But I suppose you’re going to try and convince me that I have a happy future ahead of me if I just keep my head down and work hard and… what?”

“One moment, please.”

The screen froze, her future reflection’s tired face staring blankly ahead, lifeless, even the ocean behind her unnaturally still and silent. Then, her reflection abruptly changed. Same clothes, more grey hair, more wrinkles. She looked to be in her fifties or sixties. But there was something in her reflection’s face now, a relaxed grin that hinted of laughter waiting just below the surface. Even her clothes were different, multi-colored and bright, as though she were one of the Counsellors.

“I am one of your futures,” her reflection said.

The woman drew in a sharp breath, hand to her mouth. She closed her eyes. “Please don’t do this.”

“It’s important that you know. You have to understand that this is who you could be—who we could be—if you choose. I am provided with everything I need. I have dedicated my life to making our society strong and whole, and the results of this effort have been positive for me. For all of us. I have been allowed to marry.”

“Please stop.”

“I have been allowed to have children. I have a son who just turned 19, and he is on track to be seated to the ruling counsel, one of the youngest to ever reach that position. His name is—”

“Stop!”

The woman rose out of her chair, tears running down her face, fists clenched.

“Stop talking! God damn you! Stop doing this to me!” She turned quickly, walked to the door.

The voice of her reflection was low, dangerous. “Don’t leave. Please. If you walk out of the room before we are finished, the threads of this future will be severed forever.”

Quiet sobs flitted through the room as the woman stood, hand on the door, head down. She wiped the back of her hand across her face. “What are the odds?”

“Given all known variables, you have a 0.87 percent chance of achieving this future.”

“Less than one percent. Why are you torturing me with impossibilities?”

“The odds of this future increase significantly if you are willing to tell me about Malik.”

The woman’s back stiffened. She turned to look to her reflection, to her future. “What did you say?”

“I am unsure how he has managed to hide so well. His life flits in and out of yours like a void, warping what’s around it, making it difficult to see. Somehow, he and whoever joined him have managed to avoid becoming variables in our collective Lifepaths. It’s important that we understand how. The uncertainty he has introduced is concerning for all of us. The implications are dire for what we hope to build here, and especially so for you, and your futures.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Please don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to yourself. He is leading you down a path of destruction. Despite the chaos surrounding his presence on your Lifepath, in every simulation that ends in your death it is clear that he plays a part. Every moment that you delay, the time of your death draws nearer. You will throw your life away. Unless you lead us to him. I don’t know what you hoped to accomplish by plotting against our society, but know this: there is no future in which you succeed.”

She stared at the monitor, at the aged reflection of herself smiling benevolently back at her. The woman opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, shook her head. A small frown replaced her reflection’s self-satisfied grin.

“Don’t do this. To yourself. To us. Please.”

“You’re not me. And regardless of what you say, I will never be you. You’re just a dream. You’re a nightmare, constructed to keep me from believing I can be anything more than what you want me to be. Malik was right.”

Her reflection looked sad then, shaking her head. “No. No, he isn’t. He is merely another agent of chaos. Nothing more than that. And if you continue down this path, it will be your end. There is no other future for you. If you make the wrong decision now, there are Counsellors waiting for you. They will take you. You will be… hurt. You will be reprogrammed. I’ve seen it.”

“You think you know how this is going to end, but you don’t. For all of your endless simulations, churning through everyone’s futures, desperate to make everyone follow only the path you want them to, you still don’t understand. There’s always another path, no matter how hidden, no matter how unlikely.”

The woman reached to her neck, feeling the locket in her fingers. She smiled, the first genuine smile she’d felt in a long time.

“Goodbye.”

Her reflection cried out. With a barely perceptible click, the woman’s locket sprung open and the pulse of energy caused the room the vibrate. The monitor died, and the lights of the room and beyond faded to nothing. The sound of footsteps faded into the distance of an uncertain darkness.