Repetition

“Find them and you may wind up finding yourself in the process.”

His words echoed in my thoughts like a song stuck on repeat. He had given me my first real case, one that was above my current security clearance with the SPU (Special Phenomenon Unit). Normally I worked in the field visiting supposedly haunted houses, strange creature sightings, and the typically cliche crop circles. Nothing major, nothing extremely serious or detrimental to national security. I would write a report, send it in and go about my business. I never asked questions, never attempted to learn more. To me it was common sense that if I wanted to live a long life and not mysteriously disappear, I needed to keep to myself and not make waves but this, this assignment was going to do more than make waves. It was going to be the beginning of the end for my bosses if word ever reached the people.

On the surface my assignment appeared to be nothing more than a major missing persons case with hundreds of unfortunate people from all walks of life. It was only after criminal court judge and the son of an oil tycoon vanished that the cry for justice, for knowledge was heard and in response to the cry the Government told the people they were putting together a special task force to handle the growing problem.

Me. I’m that task force and I am not equipped to handle any of this.

At first I was stumped as to what any of these people had in common. What was so special about them? What made them different? I couldn’t find anything in their backgrounds that could help me help them. I remember being frustrated and then I heard the television talking about another person who had gone missing but this time they had left a creepy message behind.

“I Woke Up! Operation Reset!”

It was like the world had gone still, the man’s voice fading into a deafeningly quiet background. Operation Reset. Why did that sound so foreign and yet familiar? I couldn’t place it and it didn’t make sense to me. Quickly I started up the work laptop for the first time since coming home Friday night. Instead of the special lock screen that normally came on where I typed my username and password there was a large black box with pale blue letters flashing: 'Reset Your Password’ and an ‘okay' button. I didn’t think too much of it and simply exited the prompt before proceeding to enter my information.

I tried using regular Google to look up ‘Operation Reset’ and I was met with the usual links to fix computers and phones all the way to the great Christan Reset and end of the worlders. I couldn’t stand those people. Why obsess about something that logically you'd never be present for? There was only one thing for certain, two for sure and that was the here and now. At that moment, I remember wanting coffee.

This was when I started to notice that things were getting strange. On the counter sat the red canister that held my coffee grounds. There was a bright yellow sun on the front and above the sun was the phrase "The Only Way To RESET Your Morning!”. Had it always said that? There was a knot forming in my stomach that only happened when I knew I was doing something I shouldn’t be. After downing the first cup and fixing the second I stared once again at the red canister. This time there was just a yellow sun, the only words were the brand name.

I should’ve called it quits while I was ahead, instead I returned to my computer and pulled up the necessary torrents needed to access the dark web. If there was anything to be known about Operation Reset, it would be here. I wasn’t disappointed. After several hours of searching I had discovered that almost everyone in those files had in one way or another accessed a certain website dedicated to ‘breaking out of the matrix’ so to speak. I knew that conspiracy theorists ran rampant on the internet but this was some next level stuff. Simulation theory, manufactured purgatory crafted by the true Elite to keep us trapped and that was why people claimed there were just walls of ice around Antarctica. It was like a video game, a poor generated video game. Suddenly those tiktoks about ‘main character energy’ were starting to make sense.

Within those several hours I had spent prowling the dark web my laptop had thrown at least five ‘Reset Your Password’ prompts at me. Each time I grew more and more annoyed. I could’ve easily reset the password to make it stop but I didn’t feel like taking the time to come up with a new one the length of the alphabet with special characters and numbers only to have to get up and wade through the scattered papers to find a pen. I really should’ve just reset the password.

That leads into this morning, almost two days now without any sleep. I can’t sleep. I see their faces every time I close my eyes. Everything I read had a voice in my head that was growing louder and louder demanding attention. What would the people do if they found out that religion had been created as a means to divide and conquer them. There was no heaven and this was man-made purgatory used outside the simulation to house the criminals, undesirables and members of any resistance. Reincarnation was just a person being entered into another simulation because the one before had run its course. Their bodies were stored in tubes to maximize space and once their physical body grew too old they were ‘recycled’ in ways too horrifying to mention.

The fabled ‘Firmament’ or ‘flat earth theory? They’re not wrong but they’re not right either. Just like video games are given updates and graphics get better, the same went for the simulation we lived in. Flat earth became round, the ‘Firmanet’ was like the ice walls, a barrier to keep us from going out of bounds until more was created to fill the ‘space’. Hence why we could never successfully make space travel possible, there wasn’t an upgrade available at this time.

My heart was racing and I felt a little light headed. Things I had laughed at growing up weren’t so funny anymore. Everything tastes like chicken was a good example. It was the simplest of flavors to replicate without throwing off the taste receptors. There were people who claimed to have come into the Simulation willingly in hopes of freeing other people. They said the world outside was thousands of years ahead of us, the poor were treated like cattle being led to the slaughter. Some claimed that children weren’t real, that we entered the simulation as adults and our childhoods were a fabrication to make this reality feel more real. If that was the case they had some twisted screenwriters.

Everything in me rebelled against everything I was learning. I didn’t want to believe any of this was real, it was absolutely terrifying and much worse than anything they showed on television. There was so much they hinted at in the tv shows, so many times they had put the truth directly in our faces and we took it as fiction at best. Maybe that was the safest route to take, after all, being discovered by the men I worked for didn’t have the happiest of outcomes either.

Once again the reset password prompt flashed across my screen but before I could click off it my phone rang. I felt like I was going to throw up as I answered, “Hello?”

“Hey, Eden. It’s Cameron.”

“Yeah, I have your number saved, Sir. Is everything alright?” I asked, doing my best to hide the fear threatening to shake my voice. He never called me.

“Well, actually, it seems like we’re having a bit of a technical issue with the computers throwing password reset prompts. The tech department believes we might have encountered a virus and has informed everyone to ignore the prompt if they get it.” He paused for a moment as if waiting to see if I was going to tell him I had been getting that prompt. I wasn’t.

“That’s odd but thanks for letting me know.”

“You haven’t received the prompt?” Cameron prodded, “In that case, that’s good news. Maybe it's confined to the building network and you took yours home. Speaking of, have you gotten anywhere on the Disappearance files?”

“No.” I swallowed, it felt like dragging sandpaper down my throat, “I can’t seem to find what any of them would have in common. They’re from all walks of life, socioeconomic and ethnic backgrounds. A few of them even look like they may have been the victim of an undiscovered serial killer but even that is just speculation.”

“I see, well, I expect a report nonetheless on my desk tomorrow morning. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy or super detailed. I just want to give my bosses something to look at. Oh, please, don’t forget not to accidentally click on the password prompt, I don’t want you to lose all of your work.” And with that Cameron hung up leaving me in a daze.

The password prompt still flashed on my laptop like a beacon on stormy waters. I wondered if it promised safety like the lighthouse did for the ships or would it be a total disaster and the reason I died. If this was truly a simulation I wanted out. This wasn’t right, we weren’t meant to play god if there even was one.

Would I remember everything if I woke up? How many times have I been through this? How many other lives had I led and why was I even put in the simulation? Who was I really? With all these questions I was beginning to question my sanity instead of my reality. This was crazy, this was how someone became paranoid and delusional.

‘The truth is always stranger than fiction’ whispered through my head and without thinking I clicked the button.

-

At first it was like the lights had been turned off. I couldn’t see or hear anything and a moment later I felt weightless and like I was floating in a body of water. Slowly I became more aware of my surroundings. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t make a sound. There was the presence of something in my throat preventing me from swallowing but I could breathe even if it was a bit laborsome. What started out as a distant buzz became louder and more alive with the hum of machinery.

I could hear rustling or the sound of boots on a concrete floor. There was the beeping of buttons being pressed. I finally managed to open my eyes, everything was blurry at first but I could see enough to know that I was in a tube surrounded by liquid that didn’t burn my eyes. There was a partial mask on my face that reminded me of aviator breathing apparatus. That explained why I couldn’t swallow. I could feel the panic trying to set in, my heart starting to race, breathing was becoming more difficult by the second and that was when I saw him. A young man dressed in only what I could call Rambo's missing wardrobe was staring at me, eyes wide with a look of confusion or was it annoyed disbelief?

“You’re not supposed to be awake yet..”