Chapter Text
“What's 2 plus 2?”
What?
The question feels strange. Or was it the context? The tone, that it was it. The world was covered in a thick blanket of shadow, no possibility for a voice that loud, that metallic-
It had to be a computer of some kind. His eyes wrinkled. His eyes were closed!
“Eye movement detected from bunk 1.” The voice’s cadence didn’t change. It definitely was some kind of aware surveillance system that was monitoring him. Hey that sounded pretty smart! Good job deductive brain, gold sticker for you. Back to the eyes. He should open them.
Annnnnnd open. Okay. That didn’t work.
OPEN! Intimidation wasn’t working either.
What could he move? He felt legs. Arms. His head, that was good. But could he move them? He wiggled his toes as hard as he could, but nothing. No change. He felt strong, but exhausted. Like a deflated muscle suit. He put every part of himself into opening his eyes. Blinding aching light was his reward.
The ceiling was too far away to be a bedroom or something. Was he in a hospital? LED lights burn into his eyes in a way that made him almost want to shut them. But too much information would be missed. There were cameras and weird armatures set right above his body, bolted to the walls and ceiling in firm clinical precision . Okay. Weird.
“What’s 2 plus 2?” The voice repeats impatiently. Okay maybe it was the exact same, but it felt impatient.
Oh, that’s all?
“Fldh…” his mouth answered. I’ll never trust you again, mouth.
“Incorrect.” The voice chides disappointedly (again, might be anthropomorphizing a disembodied voice a tad). Why had his words failed him that quickly? What was wrong with his mouth? How long had he been sleeping? All valid questions, he thought. He felt the noticeable feature of a breathing mask, that might’ve been a problem.
“What's 2 plus 2?” Okay, the question was getting on his nerves now. He centered his mind and put all of his energy into getting it right this time around.
“Ffuuh…..oooouuhhh..errrr.” his tongue felt heavy, set into his throat as each sound came with a tidal wave of energy taken.
“Incorrect.” Oh COME ON.
“Foo..uurhh.” He nearly deflated as he answered. “Correct.” the voice responded flatly, no confetti in sight. The reward he got was not answers or a big shiny quarter, but the sound of something groaning. It felt too organic, too annoyed to be a part of the voice, or the weird grabby-robot hands.
His body is just too weak to answer. Maybe some sleep will help.
When his eyes fluttered open this time, it was with less restraint. His body even moved when he asked. That's a win. “Movement detected from bunk 1.” The voice returned into the room. Okay was that gonna happen everytime he woke- “Movement detected from bunk 2.” What? He gingerly began to move his body as much as could. The robot-arms were quick to react, but not touch. They must’ve been there in case he fell. With how lethargic he felt, it must’ve been a precaution. He must’ve been put to sleep for a while, especially due to his symptoms. He gently reached at his mask, clawing at it for a moment. It came off easily and was taken away by the arms. Once the mask was gone, the arms gently began to set what felt like glasses on the bridge of his nose. How helpful! Those arms were really precise, even fixing the crooked shape into place. The room was a lot easier to read out now.
One push after the other he started to see more and more of his surroundings at a snail’s pace. He was on some kind of oval-shaped bed, rather than your usual hospital bunk. If the arms, voice and bed all added up, he couldn’t have been in a normal hospital. But where else would somebody be asleep for however long he was with all the bells and whistles of a coma?
Another groan. The sound was uncannily familiar. Maybe because he made a similar sound waking up earlier. But it wasn’t just the classification of sound. Not just because it was a groan, but it was his groan. Maybe the computer had a recording system.
Or maybe there were more people in here. Maybe they had some disease and were put in isolation! That theory was squashed pretty quickly when he saw the shape of a ladder in the corner of the room, one which had…A hatch at the top? It looked like the kinds you’d find in a submarine or something, with a large valve planted in the middle. Isolation wouldn’t give them an easy out like that.
Okay limbs time to m- “Movement detected from bunk 1,” The voice repeated, “Please remain still.” In an instant the arms rained down on him. He yowled, trying to push them away, but it seems they were just there for electrodes stamped on his body. Okay, okay that wasn’t bad. Once the arms retreated, he began to move again. No grabby fiascos this time.
He was sitting up! Go team!
“Bunk 1, please state the answer to the cubic root of eight.” Great, more questions.
“W…ho?” The words felt like a slurry of noise rather than proper words. That wasn’t him. But it sounded like him. But it WASN’T HIM?
He looked forward, and had the unique experience of seeing his own face staring back at him.
“W…what?” he stated.
“How in the hell…?” he(?) stated.
They both screamed. He couldn’t even blame himself. Or, the other guy. He didn’t understand it, but he knew he looked exactly like that. So why did-
Who was he? Not-not the other guy. Who am I? The thought sprouted in his head quickly, hoping that maybe if he could answer that he could answer why he was looking at his…copy? He had outgrown blondish brown hair that seemed to be overgrown by sleep. They must've really been put under a coma. Even with his fractured mind and the rugged lack of care in the replica, he knew he was looking at a near mirror copy of himself.
The other version of him was far quicker to move, stumbling over his bedding before falling quickly onto the floor on his side. He quickly pulled up a thumbs-up after a moment. Weird instinct. Would I do that? Was he a clone or something? Genetic replica? What in the sci-fi heck was going on??
“Who are you..?” the words were thick in his mouth, the same struggle to speak as he did. “Where am I? Whats-” he choked on his words, bumbling out profanities and other questions but the lack of verbal cohesion was getting to him. The arms sat the other man back down, which he fruitlessly fought against.
“Hey! Hey hey we need-” he (this was going to get confusing) took deep gulpfuls of air, trying to settle his heartrate. “We need to calm down. There has to be a rational answer to this-” he set his hands out in a sign for peace with the other. Something in his heart felt sad looking at the other. Maybe he was an empathetic guy?
“Why do you-like-look like me?” he sputtered out, pointing at the other. Okay brain, WHY would somebody look exactly like me? I know we aren’t on speaking terms but help me o-
~
“Gotta be my least favorite movie of all time.” He said plainly.
“Oh SHUT UP you’re lying.” Colt argued, on the other side of the couch.
It was a late summer day. He was done with work for awhile, or until they got back with new edits for the next draft. You could taste the heat outside even with the catastrophic amount of ac blasting into the living room. He had Colt over, as he just got done with a big project that was now in post, so he was over in his apartment while he was in town.
What did they do when Colt came to town? Watch stupid movies.
The pick of the day was Back To the Future. A “classic”.
“I know! I should like it, it’s got a bunch of fun science, but there's too many plotholes! Too many little things they leave in the air, and I just can’t like any of the people-”
“But the effects are so good! Well, for the time. We both watched this as kids like-monthly, you wanted to be -whats his name-” Colt snapped his fingers. He was so good with the technical part of movies, yet he always struggled with the plot. A professional who never read the script.
“Dr. Emmett Brown.” He corrected him with a pointed finger.
“SEE!” the man laughed, laying his hands out flat “You even know the names of the stupid characters! You love it but can’t say it because it's cheesy.”
“I love cheesy! I'm a big fan of cheese, number one cheesy movie fan. But I can’t watch it and not think about the mom thing.” he stuck his tongue out for emphasis.
“What?” Colt raised his brow, chewing on a thought.
“The dating the mom thing???” He kicked in Colts direction, getting his stretched out leg. Colt let out a long “ah” sound. “It’s like one of the big parts of the movie, Colt.” He sighed at the other.
“You still love it.” Colt wiggled his eyebrows like two dumb caterpillars. He groaned. Rubbing his hands over his face. “You are the worst brother everrrrrrr.” he stretched it out, feeling like a kid again.
“It’s the perk of being an older brother, Ryland. You’ll learn about it when you're older.” Colt kicked his feet up on the coffee table, which was covered in take out boxes and old papers he had forgotten to sort.
“You’re not even that much older! We’re literally-”
~
“Twins.” he said suddenly. That sensation of just regaining a memory was like a slap to the face. He got a lot out of that, he knows he worked or at least used to work with papers? He likes movies? His name is Ryland apparently. And on top of all that, he had a brother.
“We’re twins, You’re Colt and I’m Ryland. Thats…All I really know for sure.” he clarified. The other man, allegedly Colt, seemed to relax a fraction at that. “Okay… I can-” he sighed, rubbing his temples. “I can work with that.” He seemed to examine Ryland carefully, his head tilting this way and that. The memory-Colt looked way younger, not just because of the hair. That must’ve been old in his mind, which made sense. Amnesia induced by comas usually forms retrograde Amnesia and has more reliable long-term memory. They also struggle to form new short-term memories through anterograde amnesia in certain cases so they would have to-
WHY did he know that? That felt less like he was just into sci-fi movies and more like actual academics. Was his paper-stuff medical? Was he some kind of doctor?
“Do you remember anything? Like where we are or anything?” Ryland treaded those waters gently, not wanting to alarm the other too fast. Just like before, Colt began to get off the bed, which the robot-arms did not seem to like. “I got it I got it, pushy.” he stood and snapped at the arms, which seemed to probably hurt a lot. Ryland’s mind replayed his fall from moments prior. Something about that, the way he fell rang some alarm bells for him. Like the way it felt practiced, like he had done it before. But beyond that the way he fell… felt strange. Something about it wasn’t syncing right, like it was too fast for the distance he covered. Something to keep a tab on.
Colt shook his head at Grace’s question. “Zip. Nadda. Nothin.” he stretched his legs, looking down at himself while he did it. “There's a ladder-Gotta be answers up there.” As he walked he paused, eyes trained on a part of the room Ryland couldn’t see.
“Holy fuck. Another one?”
“Language.” Ryland chided quickly, more by instinct than anything else.
“Grace, get over here.” Grace? No That..That was right. His name was Ryland Grace. That was something his brain may have forgotten, but his gut knew that was definitely correct. Colt seemed to be shocked he said it himself, but he didn’t seem to have realized he said it. “Grace…” Grace murmured approvingly. That was correct. People (People?) Called him Grace.
He gently lifted himself from his bed, moving over to the Colt’s side. Another one?
Laid in the third and final bunk was a man. Thankfully not another twin (triplet?), the guy looked extremely different. Dark black hair and tanned skin, with strong features. He seemed to be built, which brought some other questions. How had none of them gone through any kind of muscle atrophy? It made no sense how even through the pain Colt and him had been able to stand so quickly. They must’ve been fed nutrients through that tube in his mask, or had those arms treat them for bedsores.
“His arm is gone.” Grace commented in a quiet shock, pointing out the elephant in the pristine padded room. “Oh.” Colt hadn’t noticed, but seemed to shrug that off too. He seemed fast asleep, thankfully not some type of mummy encased in sheets and electrodes. Another wave of tiredness crashed over him, something about seeing this guy made his body wanna shut down.
“Well, off to the ladder.” Colt turned on his heel and off to the hatch. That was fast-
“Wait! Shouldn’t we rest before that? We can barely walk, how could we get up a full ladder?” Grace reached for Colt, a protective flash coming through his mind. A part of him knew that his brother was reckless, the same part of him that knew how to breathe.
“How about I go up, find a doctor, and you stay with this guy?” He already had one foot on the ladder, looking up at the hatch. Why did he never listen?
“Fine. If you fall, so help me-” Grace wagged a finger at his brother without much of a threat to back it up with.
“I think I have some practice with it, so don’t worry.” you wouldn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling.
Okay, time to watch some guy sleep. He looked around their room once he heard the telltale sign of the valve being twisted. It seemed that it was set with padded walls and beds that were able to be transferred from the ground to the wall. The mysterious bunk 3 resident seemed to have still been halfway in the wall. It must be some way to move patients from the arms in the center of the room. Where did the computer voice go anyways?
“Hello Computer..?” He called quietly, trying to somehow turn it on. It seemed to react to audio before, so they must’ve had some type of receiver in the walls. No response. Well that's a bust.
He moved around the room, looking at the walls with more focus. One wall specifically seemed to have an outline in the middle for a smaller rectangle, possibly a closed off room? Maybe the computer only responded to specific requests.
“Open.” Grace gestured to the wall, like a magician with a cheap trick. “Specify aperture to open.” The computer’s voice came back quickly at the signal. “Uh, open aperture to wall..?” He chanced upon it. “Specify aperture to open.” it repeated. There must be a map somewhere which disclosed the apertures. When Colt found that doctor it wo-
“Grh…” a deep groan cut through the silence of the room like a pindrop, cutting Grace’s thoughts cleanly. He turned on his heel (a movement that nearly dizzied the recently awoken coma patient) to watch the arms begin to move the beds. It was incredibly intelligent, setting the unused beds into the wall juncture and rotating the used bed beneath the arms for proper care.
“Oh shoot-” Grace fumbled, getting closer. The man wasn’t fully awake yet, but there was movement behind his eyes. What was he meant to do? He couldn’t just shake the guy, he could lose an eye being that reckless!
Okay his arm’s already going out, it’s already too late.
“Colt! Come back!” He whisper-screamed, craning his head back to the valve.
“But I haven’t found any-” Colt begins, poking his head through the open hatch. “Oh he’s waking up?” He comes down the ladder after a moment. Colt’s expression looked composed, but definitely confused. What was even up there to make for such a strange face? “Do you think he knows anything?” he bumps Grace's shoulder, keeping a bit of a distance from the prone man.
“I think he knows just as much as we do.” Grace sighed, fixing his glasses.
“...So nothing,” he confirms.
“Yes I mean nothing.” he squints at Colt. What a smart allec.
The man groans a bit, turning his head from one side to the next. “Bunk 3, What is 2+2?” The computer chirps once sound is produced.
“Whaadthefuck?” the man's raspy voice churns out the profanity.
“Language.” Grace murmured automatically. It was by instinct rather than choice. It was the second time he did that. Was he religious or something? Had little kids? Kids felt like an important aspect of your life to forget. But something about that felt right. Like kids were important to him.
Once the man's eyes fluttered open, they squinted around before narrowing at the twins. Then, obviously, he jolted up to try and get a swing at them. “GAH HOLY SHIT!” Colt pushed Grace back, expecting a fight. The mystery man, still just waking up from a coma, fell hard to the ground with a wham. Again the way he fell felt strange. Too fast. But how could that be? Gravity can’t just be altered in enclosed spaces. Unless maybe they were in some kind of centrifuge. But it would have to be huge to produce this amount of space and would be extremely loud.
“Gh..whereammI?” the man slurred from the ground, the arms delicately picking him up. Already he seemed calmer, maybe the computer was able to sedate him?
“We don’t know..!” Grace tried to respond, but was kept behind Colt’s cold shoulder. Seems like he was reckless and protective. A hard combo. The man squinted at the two of them, blinking slowly and tiredly. Seeing double might be a shock along with waking up in a random bunk in a white padded room. We’re they all crazy? Was this a high-tech psyche ward? But how were they able to leave so easily?
“Do you remember anything about yourself? About where we are?” Grace pressed, moving next to Colt. The man opened his mouth, but came up dry. “No.” he said hollowly, shaken up by the fact. The way he said it felt familiar. Why was that? The man began to wrestle again, his only arm available clutching the frame of his bed. “I don’t. I don’t even-how-” he looked around, eyes back on the twins. “What did you do to me?”
“Not us. We woke up only a little earlier.” Colt crossed his arms, voice casual. “Wait for your body to get less shaky and we’ll try and talk then. Not worth it when you're wiggling around.” he gestured to the man's form, worrying his bottom lip in thought. Grace thought of how that same expression was something he had seen a lot. When he was trying to stay calm and not lose his job. It made sense.
“Yeah! It would be nicer for all of us to try and understand each other a bit more after we understand our surroundings too..!” Grace added, which seemed to make the tense shoulders of the jumpy man settle a bit. “Okay.” His jaw was set in a touch of paranoid focus, which made sense.
“Oh, Grace.” Colt spoke up in the lull, looking back to the man in question. “I have a feeling you might understand some of the shit I found up there more than me.” He jabbed a thumb to the ladder. Oh that was gonna be a real hassle to climb. “Uh-alright?” not sure if he was ready to let the stranger and his twin stay alone long, he tried to go up the ladder without too much delay.
The room above was darker than the LED-nightmare that was their…bedroom? It seemed to be a well functioning lab, with a larger table in the middle bolted to the ground. To the side was another ladder with another hatch, along with two hallways branching from the farther corner of the room. The lab was well-stocked to say the least. An 8000x microscope, a full set of probably stuffed drawers, sample fridges, a 3-d Printer, and an 11-axis microscope to name a few-wait.
How in the fudge did he know all that? (Fudge????)
“Laser interferometer.” he pointed at a machine, before whizzing over to another. “Vacuum chamber!” he finger-gunned at the cubic meter box. He forced open a drawer, looking inside randomly. “Pipettes, griffin beakers, serum cups!!” he almost squeaked out. I KNOW what this stuff is!!
“I KNOW THINGS!!” He cheered, pumping his fist up.
“...Thats nice, Grace.” Colt called from the ladder.
Now for questions. Why did he know this stuff? Was he a scientist maybe? In his memory he did seem to like science, along with some of his funky word choices that felt more nerdy than anything. He chewed on his thumb as he tried to look back at himself. He was a (probably) single man who watched lame movies with his brother. He liked science, and kids were important to him. What could that all-
“Teacher!” he clapped. That was it! “Im a teacher! I'm a teacher and I know science!” he moved around the room, brain sparking with recollection. So why was a science teacher in what felt like solitary confinement? He moved back over to the glowing hole that was the open hatch, checking back in. The mystery man was now sitting at the edge of his bunk, Colt looking around the padded walls.
“Should we explore up here..?” He questioned, legs dangling a bit over the gap. The mystery man looked up at him with a squint, as if trying to read through his face. “I checked around in there and it seems that we need to know some type of code or map to get more out of it so…Maybe there's an exit or guide around here.” he explained his reasonable delicately. Colt glanced at the man with a tense expression, before looking back to Grace. He nodded, popping his knuckles. “Think you can get up the ladder without the-”
“I can handle it.” He said gruffly, looking back to the absence of an arm. Grace could feel a metaphorical hand clench. Chills..!
~
Three guys in a random metal box. Surely nothing bad could happen. The mystery guy seemed to not have clicked on most of his past, but seemed to have gotten at least 2 things. His name, and his attitude. Simon was not happy to be trapped, spending most of his time in the brief 10 or so minutes exploring the minimal space they had so far accessible trying to find an exit. It made sense.
The space they had was small, as the lab had a section of it seemingly walled off, as a small square of the room had that same type of wall from the sleeping quarters. There was one hallway that went off to some type of large rounded room with screens around the entire surface. There seemed to be a locked off door on the otherside, which was a bother. Another hallway leads to a data or equipment storage rig. Each room seemed to be powered off, apparent with the sight of what looked like security cameras in the corners tilted downwards. Maybe there was a grid somewhere that could turn it on? Simon was busying himself trying to get one of the screens on, hoping that one of the monitors would have some kind of monitoring system attached. Colt was looking through the storage rig at the time, calling out different bobbles they found.
“They give us alcohol but not a guidebook?” Colt calls out, cross-legged on the floor with a crate in front of us. “Who’re they?” Grace asks, wondering if he got a new inch of memory.
“....the shadow government.” Colt said confidently. Okay, so he didn’t know. Simon groaned at the joke, seeming to not be amused.
Grace tasked himself with trying to pin down what the lab was all about. He had gotten the farthest with his history so far, knowing the grand total of: his name, being a teacher, and knowing science. Gold sticker again, Grace.
The problem was, there was so much in terms of actual equipment that it was hard to pin what the lab was meant to do. Data scanners, DNA synthesizers, that vacuum chamber with interactive gloves to manage inside, an entire furnace! It was like somebody went to science ebay and filled their entire cart! He fumbled with a pipette, looking at the model. Hold the phone.
This wasn’t a real pipette.
Well it wasn’t normal. The design was completely different, erasing the need to use suction at all. While fascinating, it felt useless. Why not use suction for the tool that was all about suction? Grace's fractured mind worked itself into the ground, trying to find why all of Earth’s largest governments would be so adamant to not-
What? All of Earth’s governments? Why did he know that? Was Colt’s shadow government pulling an actual theory? No, that was crazy.
He tried to put a pin in that thought for a moment looking back around the lab with a tired huff. His eyes then went back to the ladder, having forgotten it was there. He gingerly went up the rings of the ladder, his body slowly acclimating. Once his hand touched the valve up top, the computer's voice came through. Once it did, the LEDS of the lab turned on, the contrast from the generally dark environment being the same blinding light from before. The cameras(?) flicked on, and a few of the monitors began to load up. Grace saw Simon jump a bit at that, the monitor he was tweaking now flashing in his face before going to the loading spiral.“To unlock hatch, please state name.” the computer voices buzzed into the lab, the same clear monotone hum.
“Ryland Grace..?” He questioned, before pausing. “Dr. Ryland Grace?” That felt more professional, and it would be nice to know if he had the title in the first place. The small click of the hatch made Grace's heart lift a bit, or maybe that was just his scrambling body moving up into the new space.
It wasn’t a room. It was a control room. Like a real-life sci-fi control room with monitors and buttons that looked way too official.
And to the side of this enclosure? A small circular window. Then it all clicked.
Everything being bolted down, the falling, the lab equipment. The lack of memory. The comas.
Because outside that little window wasn’t a large lab, or rational excuse for this setup. It was stars. Thousands of stars in an endless canopy of the sky.
They weren’t going to find an exit. Because they were in space.