“John, are you seriously messing with that app again?” Chase’s voice cut through the hum of the campus as he slapped John’s shoulder, nearly knocking the phone out of his hands. His broad grin carried a mix of amusement and exasperation, crumbs from his sandwich dotting the corner of his mouth. “Give it a rest, that thing’s ancient. I don’t even know how it can still work after all those years.” He chuckled, brushing his hands off on his jacket.

  “Come on, Chase.” John shot back, puffing out his cheeks in mock indignation. “It’s not that old,” he mumbled, poking at the screen while he bit into his half-eaten sandwich, his gray eyes drifting over the lake nearby. The water shimmered under the mid-afternoon sun, each ripple catching the light like shards of glass. A faint breeze rustled the trees lining the edge, but it wasn’t enough to combat the lingering heat radiating off the crumbling concrete bench beneath them.

  John leaned back, grimacing as the jagged edge of the bench pressed into his spine while he scratched his short blond hair. “This place, man…” His voice softened, taking on a wistful tone. “Five years of college. Five years of this lake, this bench. I’m really gonna miss it.”

  Chase raised an eyebrow, his usual cocky demeanor faltering for a moment. “You getting sentimental on me now?” he teased, though his blue eyes drifted to the lake. He took a slow breath, the tension in his broad shoulders loosening as he stared at the dancing reflections on the water.

  “What are you going to do once college is over?” John asked, tilting his head to study his friend who idly adjusted his leather jacket, as if lost in his own world.

  Chase’s jaw tightened, and he dragged a hand through his medium length blond hair, which shone almost white under the sun. “Hell if I know,” he muttered. “Probably end up working for my mom. I’ll be making accounting software, managing accounts or some boring crap like that.” His lips curled into a wry smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not all of us have life all figured out like you.”

  “Figured out?” John snorted, shaking his head as he scratched his short blond stubble and stretched his toned frame. “I wouldn’t call it that. I do have an offer to become a software engineer a local bank, but that’s not exactly—” He stopped mid-sentence, his thumb hovering over the phone screen as his breath hitched.

  The world around him seemed to shudder, then freeze entirely.

  “Chase?” John called, his voice tinged with confusion. The six foot two Chase didn’t move, didn’t blink. It was as if his friend had turned into a statue, mid-bite, frozen into surreal stillness.

  “Very funny,” John muttered, a nervous edge creeping into his tone as he reached out to shake Chase’s shoulder, but stopped short. His arm wouldn’t move, it was as if his black sweater was frozen solid. “What the—” His panic surged, but his pulse remained still. His heart wasn’t beating, his chest didn’t rise with breath and panic bubbled in his throat.

  Then came the shattering noise—glass breaking, louder than anything he’d ever heard, as if the entire universe was splintering around him. The colors drained from his sight, leaving only a world of black and white.

  John’s thoughts spiraled as his phone vibrated violently in his hand while sparks flew from the device, each one a tiny explosion of pain that rippled up his arm. His fingers spasmed, refusing to let go, even as the phone swelled unnaturally, its screen pulsating like a heartbeat.

  The agony hit like a lightning strike, sharp and unforgiving, spreading from his hand to his chest. His vision blurred, and when he blinked, he wasn’t by the lake anymore.

  The world had warped around him, collapsing into a swirling void of darkness punctuated by faint, flickering lights.

  A sudden cascade of images slammed into his mind, each one sharper and more overwhelming than the last. Alien symbols burned themselves into his vision, their meaning just out of reach but unbearably heavy, as if each one carried the weight of a collapsing galaxy.

  John’s thoughts screamed, his consciousness fracturing under the assault. The symbols etched themselves deeper into his very being, vibrating with an energy that made his body feel like it was unraveling from the inside out.

  He was on the edge of oblivion when the flash came. A blinding, searing light that engulfed everything, erasing the pain, the symbols, the stars.

  John gasped, his chest heaving as he clawed for air. The cold bite of metal against his skin brought him back to the present as he blinked rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the dim glow of a sterile, metallic chamber.

  “W-Where am I?” His voice was hoarse, raw. The question echoed in the empty space, bouncing off the sterile walls. He stumbled forward, his legs trembling beneath him. The faint hum of unseen machinery filled the silence, vibrating through the floor like the heartbeat of some vast, alien beast. “Hello?” he called out, his voice cracking. “Is anyone there?”

  No answer. Only the hum and the weight of the unknown pressing in around him.

  John staggered to his feet, his body trembling as if his very nerves had been rewired. Each breath he took was shallow, ragged, and tainted with the acrid staleness of the air. The metallic room around him seemed to pulse with a faint hum, its gleaming walls seamless and unbroken, as if forged from a single, colossal block of steel. No rivets. No seams. Just a suffocating, monolithic perfection. His eyes flicked to the curved screen at the far end of the room, embedded smoothly into the wall. Static crackled across its surface, casting jittering reflections onto the cold floor. Beneath it, a semicircular console blinked with an array of colored lights, the controls laid out like the keys of some alien organ. It felt alive, humming softly, the lights winking in a rhythm that seemed to sync with his own racing pulse.

  “What the hell is this place?” John whispered hoarsely, his voice swallowed by the oppressive silence. His legs trembled as he leaned against the icy wall, the chill biting through his sweat-soaked sweater.

  He stumbled forward, his fingers trailing along the flawless metal as he approached the console. It wasn’t curiosity driving him closer—it was something else. Something primal, magnetic, as if an invisible hand were guiding him. The strange pull at the back of his mind was subtle at first, like a faint tug, but it quickly grew until it overshadowed his other thoughts.

  “This is insane,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “Maybe I passed out and this is a weird dream, or someone slipped something into my sandwich.” He let himself collapse into the leather swivel chair in front of the console. Its cushions were oddly warm and seemed to match his body perfectly. A low hiss filled the room and black smoke seeped from the walls, twisting and writhing like living shadows. John froze, terror slicing through him as the tendrils of smoke slammed into his chest, forcing the air from his lungs.

  His scream died before it could escape.

  “NO—!” His body jerked as something surged through him, a searing energy that lanced into his forehead from the console. His vision fractured into shards of light and darkness, fractals of glowing blue cubes swirling around him. They tore into his flesh, digging under his skin, embedding themselves like parasitic stars.

  The pain was indescribable. His body spasmed violently as his bones seemed to implode. His muscles twisted against themselves while a wet, sickening pop signaled the bursting of his left eye, plunging him into half-darkness. Blood dripped down his cheek in thick rivulets while his skin blistered and peeled, his mouth gurgling incoherent pleas for mercy.

  The words displayed on the blue window burned themselves into his brain.

  “Stop! STOP!” John’s voice was a strangled whisper, lost amidst the cacophony of alarms that screeched inside his head.

  John’s surroundings suddenly shifted, and new sensations slammed into his senses like he had been hit by a freight train. He gasped for air, spitting out something soft and mushy; the half-eaten piece of sandwich fell to the ground beside him.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Are you alright?” Chase’s familiar voice jolted him. John blinked, squinting against the brightness of the sun while his friend loomed over him, concern etched across his face. “Did you choke or something? You went pale for a second there.”

  “I—” John’s throat felt raw, as if he’d been screaming for hours. He sucked in the cool, fresh air, the crisp scent of the lake cutting through his haze. “Chase?” he croaked, his hands trembling as he looked around while the cracked concrete bench dug into his back, its unforgiving surface grounding him in reality.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” Chase replied, his brow furrowed. “Seriously, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  John tried to laugh, but it came out as a dry rasp. “I think I’m losing it,” he muttered to himself.

  His gaze shifted—and his heart stopped. A beige elevator cabin, standing starkly out of place in the middle of the concrete lakeside. Its enamel surface reflected the afternoon sun like a beacon and the sight of it sent a fresh wave of panic surging through him.

  “W-What is that?” he stammered, pointing a shaking finger at the impossible structure.

  “What is what?” Chase followed his gaze and frowned. “You mean the seagull? Dude, I think you really need to get some sleep.”

  “No!” John snapped, the panic bubbling over. “The elevator! Right there! Don’t you see it?”

  Chase squinted at him, concern shifting to skepticism. “Okay, now you’re scaring me. There’s no elevator, John.”

  But John couldn’t tear his eyes away. The cabin seemed to pulse, as if alive, and though he fought it, he could feel its pull. A whisper at the edge of his mind, faint but persistent.

  “Maybe I need sleep,” he muttered, his voice hollow. He forced himself to look away, but the sight burned into his mind. As Chase began to ramble about his family’s business, John’s focus shifted again. Something flickered at the edge of his vision. A translucent blue box hovered there, its text crisp and unnervingly clear:

  His breath quickened as he stared at it, the words searing themselves into his mind.

  “I’m going insane,” he whispered, his hands clutching his head as his vision spun. But deep down, he knew this wasn’t madness. It was something worse. Something that had already begun, whether he liked it or not.

  “Are you sure you’re alright?” Chase asked, his worry evident. “Maybe there was something weird in that sandwich. You should probably stop eating it.”

  “Y-you’re probably right.” John nodded, shoving the half-eaten sandwich back into its crinkled wrapper. His appetite was gone, replaced by a gnawing unease in his gut. “The meat tasted... funny. I should be fine, though. I didn’t eat much.”

  “Still, be careful. Food poisoning’s no joke,” Chase said, his tone light but tinged with concern.

  John forced a smile, trying to focus on Chase’s face, but his expression froze. A strange shimmer enveloped his friend—a faint distortion in the air, like heat rising off pavement. It left an afterimage with every movement, subtle but unmistakable.

  “What?” Chase asked, his usual joking smirk in place. “Is there something on my face?”

  John quickly averted his gaze, sucking in a deep breath as he closed his eyes. “Everything is fine,” he whispered to himself. When he opened his eyes again, he plastered on a weak grin. “Nothing. I’m just feeling a little off. It’ll probably clear up by the end of the afternoon.”

  “Right,” Chase said, still watching him with concern. “Anyway, I got invited to a graduation party tonight. You want to come?”

  “I— Sure.” John’s response was automatic, his attention already drifting back to the bizarre elevator cabin that loomed nearby.

  “Nice!” Chase’s laugh rang out, but then his smile faltered for a heartbeat. It froze, his expression twisting into something unreadable before he forced the grin back, the strain behind it all too clear. “Anyway, I’ve got errands to run. I’ll text you the address later. Bring something to drink!” He patted John’s shoulder and jogged off, his departure oddly hurried.

  John barely noticed since his focus remained locked on the elevator as he rubbed his temples. He groaned as fragments of the nightmare he’d just experienced replayed in his mind, over and over again.

  “What is that thing? Am I actually going crazy?” he muttered, leaning back against the concrete bench. John could barely maintain his composure as he watched a group of students who walked right through the elevator as if it wasn’t there. “I-It’s not real. It can’t be.”

  But his doubts multiplied as flashes of the blue windows and the cryptic messages they carried swirled in his memory. His heart nearly stopped beating when the overwhelming déjà vu of their conversation slammed into his mind.

  “This already happened,” he whispered, his voice shaky. His gaze shifted to his phone, desperation rising. He tapped furiously through his files, but the app he’d spent years building—the project that had earned him accolades and good grades—was gone. His throat tightened.

  He fumbled with his bag, pulling out his laptop. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” He muttered as he scoured through backups, files, anything that could prove it existed. But there was nothing.

  “Fuck!” The word escaped in a strangled hiss as he slammed the laptop shut and buried his face in his hands. His mind raced, every explanation unraveling under the weight of the impossible.

  His eyes drifted back to the elevator. It seemed to pulse faintly, the light around it distorting ever so slightly. A cold shiver ran down his spine.

  “No,” he whispered, shaking his head as he approached it with hesitant steps. “It’s not real. It’s not—”

  He reached out and touched the surface.

  It was solid. Real. Not a dream. Not a vision.

  His hand recoiled as if burned, his body trembling. “Let’s assume this is real,” he murmured, his voice hollow. As if on cue, the elevator doors hissed open. The sight inside stopped his breath—the same sterile room as before, impossibly large and brimming with the same unrelenting hum.

  “Of course it’s bigger on the inside,” he muttered, his legs heavy as he stepped over the threshold. The doors slid shut behind him with a metallic thud.

  “So we’re back here,” he said aloud, his voice echoing faintly as his eyes scanned the gleaming surfaces and the ominous console at the far end of the room. As he moved closer, a sharp pain lanced through his skull. He stumbled, clutching his head as fragmented images flooded his mind—memories that weren’t his but felt as familiar as his own.

  “System Controls,” he whispered, the words slipping from his lips like they belonged there. John sank into the chair, the soft leather strangely cool against his back. “I’m still alive. That’s something at least.” he muttered dryly, his nerves raw as his fingers brushed against the console. An eerie familiarity settled over him. He knew these controls, their purpose was seared into his mind like they always existed, somehow preceding his earliest childhood memories.

  “This is giving me a headache,” he said, shaking off the fog as his eyes settled on the keyboard, the keys worn and oddly comforting. Without thinking, his fingers began to move.

  “System Info,” he typed, the words coming to him unbidden.

  The screen blinked to life. Lines of text scrolled across its surface, and with each word, John felt the weight of the impossible settle deeper into his chest.

  “The Improbability Factor went up,” John muttered, narrowing his eyes. The faint, flickering text on the screen almost seemed alive, pulsing in time with his own heartbeat. “I guess it’s regenerating. Is it a good thing, or a bad thing?” He rubbed his temple, deep in thought, before his eyes flicked to another section of the display.

  “System Flight? This thing can fly?” John let out a nervous laugh tinged with disbelief. His fingers hovered over the console before pressing a button labeled System Flight. A top-down map materialized on the screen, showing his location with pinpoint accuracy.

  “Right,” John muttered, studying the map. “If I want to get to my apartment, I’d have to—”

  His shoulders sagged as the blue window vanished. “Not enough juice then,” he said with a wry smile. The glowing map disappeared, replaced by the previous screen. His attention drifted to the Authorities section.

  “This... feels different,” he murmured, a faint shiver running down his spine. The word Permanence lingered in his mind, like a whisper from the void. “If this isn’t a hallucination or some messed-up dream, then—”

  His voice faltered, the memory of that moment crashing over him like a wave. Pain. Darkness. A scream that wasn’t his own but felt like it came from somewhere deep inside. Somewhere beyond reality itself.

  John clenched his fists, steadying his breath. “Whatever this is, it brought me back. But I never want to go through that again.” His fingers brushed the console as he leaned back in the chair, his thoughts racing as he focused on his sole Authority. “If it happens again... I need to be ready. I need to—”

  “Three hundred,” John muttered. “Right. Of course, you need fuel too.” He sighed, glancing at the ticking counter in the corner of his eyes. “If I use my phone as a stopwatch...” He trailed off, pulling out his phone. Minutes ticked by as he stared at the numbers.

  “One point per minute,” he finally said, his lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s not terrible, I guess. But nearly an hour just to fly ten minutes away? Driving is faster.” He let out a sharp exhale, digging through his backpack with jittery hands. His fingers found a small, decorated pack tucked into the side pocket. The familiar weight settled into his palm. “I quit smoking,” John whispered to himself, staring at the pack of cigarettes as if it held all the answers. “But...” He slid one out and placed it between his lips. The scratch of the lighter’s wheel and the faint flare of flame broke the silence. The acrid smell of smoke filled the room as he took a long, slow drag, letting the tension bleed out of his body.

  John exhaled a gray plume that spiraled lazily toward the ceiling. His eyes lingered on the faint glow of the console, his mind circling back to the box—the elevator, the system, whatever it was. The thought of leaving it—even for a moment—sent an icy jolt through his chest, a visceral, irrational dread that made his skin crawl. The idea of being separated from it was unbearable, like an itch he couldn’t scratch or a limb he couldn’t live without.

  “This is stupid,” John muttered, the cigarette burning low between his fingers. “I can’t just keep calling it ‘box.’ You need a better name than that.”

  He leaned back, closing his eyes. The faint hum of the console filled the silence, vibrating in the pit of his stomach. His thoughts swirled like smoke, fragmented memories and questions colliding in the haze.

  “What the hell are you?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rhythm of his own heartbeat.