Chapter 11
Dr. Evelyn Vance stopped a few paces away from the glass containment pod, resting her hands neatly inside the deep pockets of her white lab coat. She didn't carry a weapon, nor did she display any form of aggression, which somehow made her presence far more terrifying than the armed guards they had spotted on the catwalk earlier.
"What are you talking about?" Sarah demanded, stepping forward despite Grandpa Arthur’s restraining hand on her shoulder. Her voice shook with a dangerous mix of fury and fear. "Who are you? What did you do to that young man in the tank?"
Dr. Vance smiled faintly, a cold, clinical expression that didn't reach her eyes. "That young man, Mrs. Miller—or whatever surname you happened to choose for this cycle—is simply part of the feedback loop. He was your eldest son in the 2019 iteration of this simulation. Just as Leo is your eldest son in this current 2024 cycle."
Leo stared at the doctor in absolute disbelief, his dark eyes wide. "Simulation? What the hell are you talking about? We're flesh and blood! We drove here from the city this morning!"
"You didn't drive from the city, Leo," Dr. Vance replied calmly, tilting her head toward the massive bank of computer servers humming quietly against the back wall. "Your memories of the city, the highway, the car ride, and your entire life prior to entering this valley were synthesized and implanted into your neural networks precisely five years ago when your pod was first activated. Every family that comes to Cabin Four-B undergoes the exact same psychological experiment."
Grandma Helen clutched her chest, her knees buckling slightly before Grandpa Arthur caught her by the arm. "An experiment? For what purpose?" the old man demanded, his voice thick with outrage.
"To study the limits of human adaptation under controlled, artificial isolation," Dr. Vance explained matter-of-factly, as if lecturing a university class. "We test how long a family unit can maintain its core emotional bonds while subjected to repeating temporal loops, fabricated crises, and environmental deterioration. When the cycle ends, your memories are archived, your neural states are reset, and a new family is dropped onto the porch to begin again."
"No," Sarah whispered, shaking her head violently as tears finally spilled down her cheeks. "No, that's insane. I remember my childhood. I remember Toby's first steps!"
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"Of course you do," Dr. Vance said softly. "The system writes exceptionally convincing memories. But ask yourself this, Sarah: why did the front door have a notice dated today when you arrived, long before you ever touched the handle?"
Before Sarah could formulate an answer, the glass containment pod behind Dr. Vance hissed loudly. The pale blue liquid inside began to drain rapidly, and the young man floating within opened his eyes, gasping for air as the glass front panel slid open with a heavy mechanical click.
