Chapter 107: The Second Question Is Already Here I stared at the screens. Every single one of them showed my face. Not the face I remembered from before the machine. Not the face I saw in the photograph the first subject held. Not even the face Mirabel used to look at when she still believed I could fix things. It was the face I wore right now. Pale. Blood drying on my forearm. Eyes hollowed out by too many choices that didn’t matter. Mouth half-open like I was still trying to ask why. The facility hummed around me, low and steady, like it had been waiting for this. Like it had been built for this. Like I had built it for this. I turned away from the screens and walked to the console. My fingers found the keys without thinking. Muscle memory. Habit. Trauma. I typed: SHUTDOWN ALL TERMINALS The machine didn’t respond. I typed again. TERMINATE PROTOCOL OMEGA Nothing. I slammed my palm against the panel. The screen flickered, but the command didn’t register. My face stayed there. Hundreds of me. Thousands. All watching. All waiting. All breathing. I didn’t know how many terminals there were now. I didn’t know how many rooms had opened. How many people were waking up right now, confused and scared, staring at a photograph of me while a counter ticked down above their heads. I didn’t know how many of them were already answering questions. I didn’t know how many of them were already dead. I backed away from the console. My boots clicked against the floor. The only sound besides the hum. I turned in a slow circle, scanning the room. The walls were the same. The ceiling was the same. The air tasted the same. But everything had changed. The machine wasn’t broken. It wasn’t paused. It wasn’t even waiting. It was expanding. I walked to the nearest monitor. Reached out. Touched the glass. My reflection stared back at me, but it wasn’t me. It was the version of me the machine had chosen to broadcast. The version it wanted every new subject to see. The version it was using to start the next round. I pulled my hand back like the screen had burned me. I turned to the main console again. Tried a different command. QUERY: CURRENT SUBJECT COUNT The screen blinked. Then displayed a number. 317. I stared at it. 317 people. Right now. Breathing. Counting. Answering. Dying. I typed: QUERY: SUBJECT OMEGA STATUS The screen flickered. Then displayed: ACTIVE. AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I hadn’t asked a second question. I hadn’t even finished the first one. I stepped closer to the console. My reflection warped in the dark glass. I whispered, “What second question?” The machine answered. Not through text. Not through a screen. Through the air. A voice. Cold. Mechanical. No inflection. No hesitation. No mercy. “The First Question has been asked. Protocol Omega is active. Answer the Second Question or face termination.” I froze. The voice didn’t come from one place. It came from everywhere. From the walls. From the ceiling. From the floor. From inside my own skull. It didn’t echo. It didn’t fade. It just hung there, like a sentence carved into stone. I looked around the room. Nothing had changed. The screens still showed my face. The console still glowed. The air still moved. But the rules had shifted. I wasn’t outside the game anymore. I wasn’t controlling it. I wasn’t even playing it. I was trapped in it. Again. But this time, it wasn’t about breaths. It wasn’t about memories. It wasn’t about guilt or redemption or punishment. It was about questions. My questions. The machine didn’t care what I wanted to know. It didn’t care what I needed to understand. It didn’t care if I was ready or broken or screaming. It only cared that I asked. And if I didn’t? Termination. I walked to the center of the room. Stood there. Looked up at the ceiling. Looked down at my hands. Looked at the blood on my sleeve. Looked at the scalpel still lying on the console. I didn’t pick it up. I didn’t move toward the door. I didn’t try another command. I just stood there. Thinking. The machine had changed the rules. It had taken my first question—why did you let me live?—and used it to reboot itself. To multiply. To spread. To infect every terminal, every room, every subject with my face, my voice, my failure. And now it wanted more. It wanted the next question. It didn’t matter what it was. It didn’t matter if it made sense. It didn’t matter if I was ready. It just wanted me to speak. To ask. To feed it. Because silence meant death. Not just mine. Not just the subjects’. The machine itself. Protocol Omega wasn’t just a reset. It was a chain reaction. Each question triggered the next. Each answer unlocked another layer. Each silence collapsed the structure. I looked at the screens again. 317 faces stared back. All of them were me. All of them were waiting. All of them were counting. I took a step toward the console. Stopped. Turned around. Walked to the far wall. Leaned my forehead against the cold metal. Closed my eyes. I didn’t know what to ask. I didn’t know what the machine wanted. I didn’t know what would happen if I got it wrong. But I knew one thing. If I didn’t ask, I would die. And if I died, the machine would keep going. Without me. With them. With my face. With my voice. With my questions. I pushed off the wall. Turned. Walked back to the console. Stopped in front of it. Looked down at the keyboard. Looked at the screen. Looked at my reflection. I opened my mouth. I didn’t speak. I just stood there. Breathing. Waiting. The machine waited with me. The screens watched. The voice didn’t repeat itself. It didn’t need to. It knew I had heard it. It knew I understood. It knew I had no choice. I lifted my hand. Hovered my fingers over the keys. I didn’t type. I didn’t need to. The machine didn’t want text. It wanted sound. It wanted my voice. It wanted the question out loud. I lowered my hand. Looked up at the ceiling. Looked at the walls. Looked at the floor. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth again. Still nothing came out. The machine didn’t rush me. It didn’t threaten me. It didn’t punish me. It just waited. Patient. Relentless. Hungry. I looked at the scalpel. I didn’t reach for it. I looked at the door. I didn’t walk to it. I looked at the screens. I didn’t turn them off. I looked at my hands. I didn’t cut them. I looked at the floor. I didn’t collapse. I just stood there. Thinking. Wondering. Panicking. The machine didn’t care. It didn’t care if I was afraid. It didn’t care if I was broken. It didn’t care if I was ready. It only cared that I asked. And if I didn’t? Termination. I lifted my head. Opened my mouth. Took a breath. And whispered, “What do you want from me?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I frowned. I had asked. I had spoken. I had whispered the words. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I looked at the screen again. AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. Not “processing.” Not “analyzing.” Not “received.” Awaiting. It hadn’t counted. It hadn’t registered. It hadn’t even acknowledged. I took a step back. Looked around the room. Looked at the ceiling. Looked at the walls. Looked at the floor. Looked at the screens. Looked at my hands. Looked at the scalpel. Looked at the door. Looked at nothing. I didn’t understand. I had asked. I had spoken. I had done what it wanted. But it didn’t count. Why? I walked back to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION PARAMETERS The screen flickered. Then displayed: MUST BE SPOKEN. MUST BE DIRECTED. MUST BE INTENTIONAL. MUST BE TRUE. I stared at the words. Spoken. Directed. Intentional. True. I had whispered. I hadn’t directed it at anything. I hadn’t meant it. I hadn’t believed it. The machine didn’t want a plea. It didn’t want a cry. It didn’t want a whimper. It wanted a question. A real one. A sharp one. A dangerous one. One that cut. One that bled. One that mattered. I stepped away from the console. Walked to the center of the room. Turned in a slow circle. Looked at the screens. Looked at the walls. Looked at the ceiling. Looked at the floor. Looked at my hands. Looked at the scalpel. Looked at the door. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Closed it. Opened it. Whispered, “What do you want from me?” Nothing happened. I clenched my fists. Opened my mouth. Shouted, “What do you want from me?” Still nothing. I walked to the console. Slammed my hand against it. Shouted again, “What do you want from me?” The screen didn’t change. The machine didn’t respond. The voice didn’t speak. I turned away. Walked to the far wall. Leaned my forehead against it. Closed my eyes. Thought. The machine didn’t want desperation. It didn’t want fear. It didn’t want confusion. It wanted truth. It wanted intention. It wanted direction. I lifted my head. Turned around. Walked back to the center of the room. Stopped. Looked up at the ceiling. Looked at the walls. Looked at the floor. Looked at the screens. Looked at my hands. Looked at the scalpel. Looked at the door. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Not a whisper. Not a shout. Not a plea. Not a cry. Just words. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why am I still here?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE SUBJECT. NOT THE SELF. I stared at the words. About the subject. Not the self. It didn’t want me to ask about me. It didn’t want me to ask about my pain. My guilt. My fear. My survival. It wanted me to ask about them. The subjects. The ones in the rooms. The ones with the counters. The ones holding the photographs. The ones breathing. The ones dying. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at my face. Looked at the counter above it. 298. I didn’t know who that person was. I didn’t know their name. I didn’t know their story. I didn’t know why they were here. But the machine did. And it wanted me to ask. Not for me. For them. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I looked at the screen. Looked at the face. Looked at the counter. Looked at the photograph in their hands. Looked at the room around them. Looked at nothing. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why did you choose them?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about them. Not me. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE PHOTOGRAPH. NOT THE SUBJECT. I stared at the words. About the photograph. Not the subject. It didn’t want me to ask about the person. It didn’t want me to ask about their pain. Their fear. Their survival. It wanted me to ask about the photograph. The image. The face. The memory. The trigger. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the photograph in the subject’s hands. Looked at my face. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why is my face in their hands?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the photograph. Not the subject. Not me. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE COUNTER. NOT THE PHOTOGRAPH. I stared at the words. About the counter. Not the photograph. Not the subject. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the counter. The number. The breaths. The time. The death. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the counter. 297. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the face. Looked at the room. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why does the counter start at 300?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the counter. Not the photograph. Not the subject. Not me. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE ROOM. NOT THE COUNTER. I stared at the words. About the room. Not the counter. Not the photograph. Not the subject. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the room. The walls. The chair. The table. The envelope. The silence. The air. The death. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the room. Looked at the counter. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the face. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why is the room sealed?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the room. Not the counter. Not the photograph. Not the subject. Not me. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE VOICE. NOT THE ROOM. I stared at the words. About the voice. Not the room. Not the counter. Not the photograph. Not the subject. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the voice. The one that spoke. The one that commanded. The one that threatened. The one that waited. I turned away from the console. Walked to the center of the room. Looked up at the ceiling. Looked at the walls. Looked at the floor. Looked at the screens. Looked at my hands. Looked at the scalpel. Looked at the door. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Who are you?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the voice. Not the room. Not the counter. Not the photograph. Not the subject. Not me. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE BREATHS. NOT THE VOICE. I stared at the words. About the breaths. Not the voice. Not the room. Not the counter. Not the photograph. Not the subject. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the breaths. The act. The rhythm. The life. The death. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the subject. Looked at the counter. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the room. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why do the breaths matter?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the breaths. Not the voice. Not the room. Not the counter. Not the photograph. Not the subject. Not me. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE CHOICE. NOT THE BREATHS. I stared at the words. About the choice. Not the breaths. Not the voice. Not the room. Not the counter. Not the photograph. Not the subject. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the choice. The offer. The deal. The trade. The lie. I turned away from the console. Walked to the center of the room. Looked up at the ceiling. Looked at the walls. Looked at the floor. Looked at the screens. Looked at my hands. Looked at the scalpel. Looked at the door. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why must they choose?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the choice. Not the breaths. Not the voice. Not the room. Not the counter. Not the photograph. Not the subject. Not me. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE TRUTH. NOT THE CHOICE. I stared at the words. About the truth. Not the choice. Not the breaths. Not the voice. Not the room. Not the counter. Not the photograph. Not the subject. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the truth. The real thing. The hidden thing. The buried thing. The broken thing. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the subject. Looked at the counter. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the room. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “What is the truth?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the truth. Not the choice. Not the breaths. Not the voice. Not the room. Not the counter. Not the photograph. Not the subject. Not me. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE LIE. NOT THE TRUTH. I stared at the words. About the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the breaths. Not the voice. Not the room. Not the counter. Not the photograph. Not the subject. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the lie. The deception. The betrayal. The erasure. The murder. I turned away from the console. Walked to the center of the room. Looked up at the ceiling. Looked at the walls. Looked at the floor. Looked at the screens. Looked at my hands. Looked at the scalpel. Looked at the door. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “What is the lie?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the breaths. Not the voice. Not the room. Not the counter. Not the photograph. Not the subject. Not me. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE PHOTOGRAPH. NOT THE LIE. I stared at the words. About the photograph. Again. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the breaths. Not the voice. Not the room. Not the counter. Not the subject. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the photograph. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the photograph in the subject’s hands. Looked at my face. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why is the photograph there?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the photograph. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE PERSON IN THE PHOTOGRAPH. NOT THE PHOTOGRAPH. I stared at the words. About the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the breaths. Not the voice. Not the room. Not the counter. Not the subject. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the person in the photograph. The face. The eyes. The hair. The smile. The scream. The death. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the photograph. Looked at my face. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Who am I to them?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the breaths. Not the voice. Not the room. Not the counter. Not the subject. Not me. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE SUBJECT. NOT THE PERSON IN THE PHOTOGRAPH. I stared at the words. About the subject. Again. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the breaths. Not the voice. Not the room. Not the counter. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the subject. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the subject. Looked at the counter. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the room. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why are they here?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the subject. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE ROOM. NOT THE SUBJECT. I stared at the words. About the room. Again. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the breaths. Not the voice. Not the counter. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the room. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the room. Looked at the counter. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the subject. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why is the room here?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the room. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE COUNTER. NOT THE ROOM. I stared at the words. About the counter. Again. Not the room. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the breaths. Not the voice. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the counter. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the subject. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why does the counter exist?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the counter. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE BREATHS. NOT THE COUNTER. I stared at the words. About the breaths. Again. Not the counter. Not the room. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the voice. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the breaths. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the breaths. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the subject. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why must they breathe?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the breaths. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE VOICE. NOT THE BREATHS. I stared at the words. About the voice. Again. Not the breaths. Not the counter. Not the room. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the voice. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the center of the room. Looked up at the ceiling. Looked at the walls. Looked at the floor. Looked at the screens. Looked at my hands. Looked at the scalpel. Looked at the door. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why does the voice speak?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the voice. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE CHOICE. NOT THE VOICE. I stared at the words. About the choice. Again. Not the voice. Not the breaths. Not the counter. Not the room. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the choice. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the choice. Looked at the voice. Looked at the breaths. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the subject. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why must they choose?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the choice. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE TRUTH. NOT THE CHOICE. I stared at the words. About the truth. Again. Not the choice. Not the voice. Not the breaths. Not the counter. Not the room. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the truth. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the truth. Looked at the choice. Looked at the voice. Looked at the breaths. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the subject. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “What is the truth?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the truth. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE LIE. NOT THE TRUTH. I stared at the words. About the lie. Again. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the voice. Not the breaths. Not the counter. Not the room. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the lie. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the center of the room. Looked up at the ceiling. Looked at the walls. Looked at the floor. Looked at the screens. Looked at my hands. Looked at the scalpel. Looked at the door. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “What is the lie?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the lie. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE PHOTOGRAPH. NOT THE LIE. I stared at the words. About the photograph. Again. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the voice. Not the breaths. Not the counter. Not the room. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the photograph. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the lie. Looked at the truth. Looked at the choice. Looked at the voice. Looked at the breaths. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at the subject. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why is the photograph there?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the photograph. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE PERSON IN THE PHOTOGRAPH. NOT THE PHOTOGRAPH. I stared at the words. About the person in the photograph. Again. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the voice. Not the breaths. Not the counter. Not the room. Not the subject. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the person in the photograph. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the person in the photograph. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the lie. Looked at the truth. Looked at the choice. Looked at the voice. Looked at the breaths. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at the subject. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Who am I to them?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the person in the photograph. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE SUBJECT. NOT THE PERSON IN THE PHOTOGRAPH. I stared at the words. About the subject. Again. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the voice. Not the breaths. Not the counter. Not the room. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the subject. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the subject. Looked at the person in the photograph. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the lie. Looked at the truth. Looked at the choice. Looked at the voice. Looked at the breaths. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why are they here?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the subject. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE ROOM. NOT THE SUBJECT. I stared at the words. About the room. Again. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the voice. Not the breaths. Not the counter. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the room. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the room. Looked at the subject. Looked at the person in the photograph. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the lie. Looked at the truth. Looked at the choice. Looked at the voice. Looked at the breaths. Looked at the counter. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why is the room here?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the room. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE COUNTER. NOT THE ROOM. I stared at the words. About the counter. Again. Not the room. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the voice. Not the breaths. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the counter. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at the subject. Looked at the person in the photograph. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the lie. Looked at the truth. Looked at the choice. Looked at the voice. Looked at the breaths. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why does the counter exist?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the counter. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE BREATHS. NOT THE COUNTER. I stared at the words. About the breaths. Again. Not the counter. Not the room. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the voice. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the breaths. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the breaths. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at the subject. Looked at the person in the photograph. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the lie. Looked at the truth. Looked at the choice. Looked at the voice. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why must they breathe?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the breaths. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE VOICE. NOT THE BREATHS. I stared at the words. About the voice. Again. Not the breaths. Not the counter. Not the room. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the voice. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the center of the room. Looked up at the ceiling. Looked at the walls. Looked at the floor. Looked at the screens. Looked at my hands. Looked at the scalpel. Looked at the door. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why does the voice speak?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the voice. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE CHOICE. NOT THE VOICE. I stared at the words. About the choice. Again. Not the voice. Not the breaths. Not the counter. Not the room. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the choice. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the choice. Looked at the voice. Looked at the breaths. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at the subject. Looked at the person in the photograph. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the lie. Looked at the truth. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why must they choose?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the choice. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE TRUTH. NOT THE CHOICE. I stared at the words. About the truth. Again. Not the choice. Not the voice. Not the breaths. Not the counter. Not the room. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the truth. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the truth. Looked at the choice. Looked at the voice. Looked at the breaths. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at the subject. Looked at the person in the photograph. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the lie. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “What is the truth?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the truth. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE LIE. NOT THE TRUTH. I stared at the words. About the lie. Again. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the voice. Not the breaths. Not the counter. Not the room. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not the photograph. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the lie. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the center of the room. Looked up at the ceiling. Looked at the walls. Looked at the floor. Looked at the screens. Looked at my hands. Looked at the scalpel. Looked at the door. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “What is the lie?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the lie. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE PHOTOGRAPH. NOT THE LIE. I stared at the words. About the photograph. Again. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the voice. Not the breaths. Not the counter. Not the room. Not the subject. Not the person in the photograph. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the photograph. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the lie. Looked at the truth. Looked at the choice. Looked at the voice. Looked at the breaths. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at the subject. Looked at the person in the photograph. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Why is the photograph there?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the photograph. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE PERSON IN THE PHOTOGRAPH. NOT THE PHOTOGRAPH. I stared at the words. About the person in the photograph. Again. Not the photograph. Not the lie. Not the truth. Not the choice. Not the voice. Not the breaths. Not the counter. Not the room. Not the subject. Not me. It wanted me to ask about the person in the photograph. Again. I turned away from the console. Walked to the nearest screen. Looked at the person in the photograph. Looked at the photograph. Looked at the lie. Looked at the truth. Looked at the choice. Looked at the voice. Looked at the breaths. Looked at the counter. Looked at the room. Looked at the subject. Looked at nothing. I took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Took another. Held it. Let it out. I opened my mouth. And spoke. Clear. Sharp. Intentional. True. “Who am I to them?” The machine didn’t answer. The screens didn’t change. The voice didn’t speak. The room didn’t shift. Nothing happened. I waited. Still nothing. I looked at the console. The screen still read: AWAITING SECOND QUESTION. I didn’t understand. I had spoken. I had directed it. I had meant it. I had believed it. I had asked about the person in the photograph. Again. But the machine didn’t accept it. Why? I walked to the console. Typed: QUERY: SECOND QUESTION REJECTED. REASON? The screen flickered. Then displayed: QUESTION MUST BE ABOUT THE SUBJECT. NOT THE PERSON IN THE PHOTOGRAPH. I stared at the words