S.O.S

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞

A blinding light is waiting for me on the other side of the door. I blink my temporary blindness away and find myself in a bleached-white room. Everything is blandly white in here - the walls, the floor, chairs. Even the man sitting on one of the chairs.

His skin is pale, deprived of sun kisses. Eyes located a bit too far away from each other, both grey. Judging from his white Santa Claus beard he is probably in his mid-seventies. When he sees me, he looks shocked at first but then, slowly and visibly, his wrinkly face lits up.

"Welcome. I've been waiting for you," he greets with a wide smile unable to hide his excitement.

"Where am I?" I ask, looking around. The bloodstains and dirt on my clothes are gone. The fabric is as soft as if it's fresh from a washing machine. "Who are you?"

The man brings his index finger to his dry lips, then points at a white chair in front of him. "All in time, my son. Please, have a seat."

I sit down obediently.

"At long last, someone managed to pass the simulation. I had already given up on hope."

"Why is that?"

"You see... It's a bit hard to explain," he sighs. "Take a look at this."

He shows me an obsolete tablet that went out of fashion ages ago. I've only seen one in a museum. He swipes it with a finger and a video starts to play showing a destroyed city with high skyscrapers, burning cars, and broken signs. Some people are running along the streets with guns, shouting at each other aggressively. It lasts only about ten seconds before the screen goes black again.

The man puts the tablet on his lap and says neutrally: "This is what happened in the 21st century when aliens attacked our world. Apocalypse."

"So you are from the past," I point out unnecessarily. It should have sounded wrong in my ears but after having seen so many weird things, this is probably at the bottom of my list. I'm completely numb.

"You could say so," the man smiles slightly rubbing his temples.

"How are you here then?"

"My consciousness was duplicated and put into this simulation. I've waited for so long for someone to come. It gets boring, you know?"

How do you even duplicate one's consciousness? I have so much to ask that I don't even know where to begin. Putting my line of questions in priority order, I pick a simpler question: "Why don't you leave?"

Sadness falls over his rugged face like a curtain. "I can't. You can't leave a simulation just like that. It will cause a loss of information. Bits of yourself, your humanity... Not to mention that we have no means to do such a thing."

I suddenly remember what my doppelgänger said. You will get answers to your questions but at a price. Everything I've seen or heard up until now falls into place. Weird and absent-minded people who returned from this simulation. The unpromising words of the man in front of me. Unspoken rules, hidden secrets.

I've never been this terrified to open my mouth. "So the people who came back from this simulation... aren't them anymore but... clones of some kind?" God please, tell me I'm not right.

To my horror, the old man nods. He looks sorry. "The simulation makes a copy of everyone that enters it. An unreliable one," he replies quietly letting me digest this new piece of information.

"I... don't understand. Where are they?"

"No one knows."

I gulp. There's a lump in my throat threatening to suffocate me. That would be merciful. "So... I have no way of returning home, have I?"