Distortion

Lauren looked at the papers scattered across the floor. Yellowed, with dried stains, they were history. Perhaps hers as well. “What are we going to do?” she asked, picking up a sheet that had stuck to the floor. “Why wipe me again?” “Maybe we can find something about you,” Barnes studied the floor map on the wall. “This is pointless,” Lauren, pressing her lips together, tossed aside a sheet with blurred letters. “It would make more sense to free me from Valentina’s influence, if any remains. What if the machine isn’t even here, and it’s been in the Tower all along?” “I don’t know,” James snapped, moving closer to the girl. He looked down at her like she was a tedious child. “Where were you with these thoughts before? While Yelena was busy finding information? Trying to find anything that could help you?” Lauren opened her mouth slightly, as if to deliver another sharp remark, but said nothing, averting her gaze. “I’m scared,” she uttered with difficulty, feeling her throat tighten every time she let her guard down. “You dumped all this on me at once. It seems to have… corrupted Valentina’s settings somehow, mixing my memories up.” “You could have just apologized,” Barnes, frowning, tried to recall where the door he’d seen on the map was located. “That’s not built into me,” the girl followed the man, shaking her hands to dispel the stress. “Noticed,” he muttered under his breath, opening the next door. They walked down a dark, damp corridor, as if abruptly plunging from a laboratory into a cave. Lauren pondered—she really never did apologize. She believed it was better to atone with actions or a biting joke than with the word 'sorry.' “It’s all here,” Barnes shoved the sticking door open with his foot, revealing a well-preserved laboratory. The walls were almost untouched by water, all equipment remained in place despite the disorder of a hasty evacuation. “I remember this place,” Lauren pressed cold fingers to her forehead, as if trying to soothe a throbbing spot through her skin. “Very vaguely. In other memories, the setting is different.” “So Valentina has her own machine,” James brushed sheets off a table with the muzzle of his rifle while the girl examined the drawers. In the ensuing silence, only the sound of opening drawers and dripping water somewhere could be heard. James went into the adjacent room to check the electricity, and Lauren, with a soft thud, placed a folder on the table. “Seems okay,” the man shrugged, returning. “Should have enough voltage.” “I found it,” Lauren mouthed the words, pushing the folder closer to him. “You’ll have to input the settings.” “Don’t you want to look yourself?” he raised an eyebrow, flipping through the pages, watching as the girl, leaning over the control panel in front of a chair, typed something on the keyboard. “Later,” she smiled, but her eyes didn’t waver, covered with a light veil of sadness. “Alright,” he nodded, offering a hand to help Lauren climb into the chair. She extended a hand, pointing to the sensors dangling to the floor. “I’ve set everything up,” she said, wiping the dusty sensors on her pant leg and securing them on her head, hiding them in her dark hair. “It wasn’t hard—the machine has only one purpose. You need to start it and input the settings.” “Uh-huh,” James lowered his gaze to the dossier he’d brought with him. He gave a quiet snort. “What?” Lauren, with a slightly trembling hand, gripped the armrest. “It says 'arrogant' here,” he pulled up a chair, sitting opposite the girl next to the control panel. “Let’s just do this,” she asked, closing her eyes. “Yeah,” Barnes pressed the button, watching as Lauren’s head slumped onto her chest. He looked at the small screen showing that the personality was empty. James lifted his eyes to the girl again. She seemed so calm, as if simply asleep, and the man couldn’t even imagine what she was feeling. Was she feeling anything at all? Barnes entered the text from her dossier into the program and, to the quiet hum of the machine, began to wait for Lauren to come to. Was it right, what they did? Would this be the real, original personality? Would Lauren forget the past personalities implanted under her skin? Of course not. They both understood that when they came to this place. Lauren sighed quietly, expelling air from her lungs. She opened her eyes with difficulty, as if she’d slept for several hours; her neck refused to hold up her heavy head. James, who had stood up, approached the girl, helping her sit up. “Lauren?” he asked quietly, hoping they wouldn’t have to start over. “I remember you, wipe that sad look off your face,” she smiled tiredly, pushing her hands against the chair to stand. “They didn’t erase my *memory*.” “Feel a familiar spirit,” Barnes drew out, helping the girl to her feet. “What, no strength at all?” “I see you’re thrilled you can tease me,” Lauren, leaning on his arm, slowly shuffled toward the exit. “Did you take the folder?” “Of course,” James, leading the girl out of the room, twitched the corners of his lips.