Countless, Usless Story Starts

Replicas

Black; that was the first thing he remembered. Then the frigid ice snagged on his limbs, eating away at his shallow, shaking breaths and dry throat. The blackness petered away to a faded, low, green light revealing the curved glass only a few inches from his face. Placing a hand against the glass, he wiped the condensation away to see the room beyond. Dark grey, almost black tiles lined the floor and the eerie green glow appeared to come from many glass 'tanks' lining the wall beside him. Suddenly, boiling air rushed though around him, as the glass click up and away from him. Everything quickly became very real, like being woken up by an air horn. The ticking and weiring, the silence smashed; the abrupt block of wind corrupting the stillness. He seemed to start forwards out of his own will, the frost still clinging to his skin. Stunned, he stumbled out.

Every part of him shook, from his limbs to each rapid breath that escaped his lungs. He looked back at the bizarre chamber from where he came. It was just the same as the rest of them, all around the room frosted, glass tanks lined up many stories high. As he staggered wearily along, his bare feet made a soft patting on the hard floor and his thoughts finally stirred. He walked past tank after tank, frozen faces in each, but one of them gave him the most sickening strike of déjà vu. It was a woman; she wore a white outfit, a t-shirt and three quarter length trousers, much like all the rest of them and himself. Her pale skin and black bob hair where intertwined with ice, as she slept in the cryogenic chamber. Something about her seemed so eerily familiar. He rested both hands on the glass,

"What's going on? What is this place? Why do I think I know you? I wish someone could tell me..." he muttered under his breath. Turning to look down the length of the room, he began to wander towards the doors and something in the back of his mind gave him a feeling of retracing steps.

Outside the doors lay a blindingly, stark white hallway with doors and windows dotted along at regular intervals and as he trended carefully along, he stopped at one of the windows. Behind the glass was dark and along the bright light in hallway, it appeared almost mirror like. The man that looked back at him had slightly curly, long-ish, chestnut hair and eyes that couldn't decide whether they were brown or green.

"Ha, so that's me," he chuckled, inspecting his reflection. There was nothing particularly amazing about his appearance, but he could live with that – he had more pressing matters to think about.