Chapter 8 - The Reflection in the Glass
The interior of the glass-walled office was cast in deep shadow, separated from the main archive by tinted acoustic panels that distorted everything within. Julian squinted, his dark eyes trying to pierce the gloom. Sitting upright in an ergonomic leather chair behind a mahogany desk was a silhouette of a person wearing a familiar dark coat and a white shirt, perfectly mirroring Julian’s own posture.
"Arthur," Julian said quietly, not taking his eyes off the glass partition. "Who is in that office?"
Arthur stopped typing, his fingers freezing over the keyboard. He slowly turned his head to look toward the glassed-in room, his face draining of what little color it had left. A slow, cold realization seemed to wash over his features.
"Nobody," Arthur whispered, standing up slowly from Sarah’s terminal. "That room was sealed from the inside three months ago. Before the project even moved to the surface facility."
"Somebody is sitting right there," Julian insisted, taking a cautious step forward across the polished linoleum floor. The hum of the server racks seemed to fade into a low, droning hum that vibrated in his teeth. "I can see the outline of their shoulders. They’re watching us."
Lily backed away slowly, her small hand reaching out to grab the hem of Julian’s dark coat again. "Daddy, let’s go back upstairs. I don't like this room. It feels like someone is breathing on the back of my neck."
Julian ignored her plea, driven by a desperate, burning need to find answers that had eluded him since the nightmare began. He crossed the archive floor, his boots clicking sharply against the tile, and reached the glass door of the office. There was no handle on the outside—only a flat metal plate with a biometric scanner glowing a steady, unblinking green.
He pressed his palm against the glass. The surface was freezing cold, instantly frosting over around his fingers. On the other side, the silhouette didn't move. It sat perfectly still, head bowed slightly toward the desk as if reading a document written in invisible ink.
"Julian, don't," Arthur warned, stepping up behind him, his hand resting on the butt of his sidearm. "I’m telling you, whatever is in there isn't human anymore. That’s what the protocol was designed to bury."
"You keep talking about protocols and vectors like she wasn't a person!" Julian shouted, turning around to face Arthur, his face flushed with uncontainable anger. "That’s my wife in there! Or at least, the last piece of her left in this damn building!"
"Look at the biometric scanner, Julian," Arthur said flatly, pointing a finger at the green light on the glass door. "It’s not scanning your palm. It’s waiting for Sarah’s DNA."
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Before Julian could process the warning, the green light on the scanner suddenly shifted to a sharp, aggressive amber. The glass door clicked, and the heavy pneumatic seal popped open with a sudden, sharp hiss of escaping air.
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