The Glass Mirror

The red countdown numbers burned into Anna’s retinas like liquid fire.

00:27… 00:26…

Her mind shattered into a million jagged pieces. Her breath hitched in her throat, the damp, salty air of the subterranean bay freezing in her lungs.

She stared into the illuminated glass pod. The woman lying beneath the clear dome had her hair, her jawline, her pale skin, and the faint, crescent-shaped scar just below her left collarbone–a mark Anna had carried for as long as she could remember.

SUBJECT: ANNA VANCE (ORIGINAL)

"No..." Anna whispered, stepping backward onto the cold concrete loading dock. The metal thumb drive in her coat pocket hummed with a low, vibrating pulse as it transmitted the terminal wipe sequence directly into the pod’s central processing unit. "No, this is impossible... I am Anna."

"Anna, get away from the vault!" Mia’s frantic voice screamed through the speaker of the satellite phone dropped on the floorboards. "The kill-switch is going to purge the life-support system! If that timer hits zero, the pod’s neural fluid will flood with pure potassium chloride!"

00:21… 00:20…

Anna didn't run. She couldn't.

She lunged forward into the dark vault, her boots slapping hard against the slick steel floor. She reached the glowing glass pod, slamming her open palms against the smooth, ice-cold dome.

The woman inside didn't move. Her chest rose and fell in slow, artificial cycles under a clear breathing mask. Tubes filled with glowing blue nutrient solution ran into her wrists, feeding her body in a silent, artificial sleep that looked as deep as death itself.

Anna looked down at the control panel mounted at the base of the pod. A small digital keypad was flashing violently in red:

ENTER MASTER OVERRIDE CODE TO CANCEL TERMINATION

"Override... override!" Anna gasped, her trembling fingers hovering over the glowing keys.

She typed her father’s birthdate: 0-4-1-2.

ACCESS DENIED.

She typed the patent registration number: 9-9-4-1.

ACCESS DENIED.

00:14… 00:13…

"THINK!" Anna screamed at herself, tears overflowing her eyes, cutting hot trails through the cold dust on her face. "Think, Arthur... what was the key?!"

Suddenly, a heavy, metallic crunch echoed behind her.

The heavy blast-door at the far end of the loading bay was severed by a high-thermal plasma cutter. A blinding shower of white-hot sparks rained down onto the concrete as the heavy iron slab was blown inward with a deafening crash.

BOOM.

Victor Cole stepped through the rising smoke, his charcoal coat singed, his face twisted into a mask of cold, predatory triumph. In his right hand, he held a sleek tactical detonator wired to the bunker’s main power grid.

Behind him, four heavily armed tactical operatives flooded the loading dock, their assault rifles raised and laser sights painting red dots across the vault wall.

"Step away from the glass, duplicate," Victor Cole spoke, his raspy voice echoing through the vast subterranean chamber.

Anna froze, her finger hovering an inch above the flashing red override screen.

00:08… 00:07…

She slowly turned her head, looking at the man who had ordered her parents' death twenty years ago. "What did you just call me?"

Victor walked slowly into the light of the vault's single overhead spotlight, a bitter, terrifying smile spreading across his weathered face.

"Did you really think old William Reed and Marcus Holloway spent twenty-six years trying to protect a fragile orphan?" Victor chuckled, the sound dry and hollow like dead leaves scraping concrete. "Arthur Vance’s true masterpiece wasn't just an energy patent, child. It was a biological neural-mapping process capable of transferring a living human consciousness into a synthetic, lab-grown vessel."

Anna’s heart stopped beating. The room seemed to spin out of control.

"The real Anna Vance suffered severe, irreversible brain damage in the car crash twenty years ago," Victor explained, stepping closer, his single eye locking onto Anna’s face with a look of terrifying satisfaction. "Arthur couldn't accept her death. He spent six years in total secret, using hisMicro-refinement technology to create you–a flawless, synthetic replica built to hold her memories, her thoughts, her very soul."

He pointed his gloved finger at the glass pod behind her.

"She has been lying in cryogenic stasis for two decades, waiting for the technology to fully stabilize," Victor whispered. "And you... you were merely the test vessel. The holding shell meant to store her evolving neural patterns until the time was right to transfer her back into her original body."

00:03… 00:02…

Anna’s mind went dead silent.

Seven years of loveless marriage. Seven years of waiting in the dark mansion. The tumor. The memory loss. The loss of her voice.

It hadn't just been a corporate conspiracy. She wasn't even a real person. She was a living vessel built in a lab, designed to be erased the moment her purpose was served.

"The thumb drive Noah gave you wasn't meant to save you, synthetic," Victor sneered, reaching out his hand. "Noah knew what you were. His grandfather told him three years ago. That drive was coded to purge the vessel and wake up the heiress once the legal war was won."

00:01… 00:00.

BEEP.

The red timer on the pod reached zero.

A sharp, violent hiss of compressed gas released from the base of the cryogenic pod. The glowing blue nutrient fluid drained rapidly through the bottom valves, replaced by a clear, warm neutralizing agent.

The heavy glass dome of the pod slowly unsealed, sliding upward with a soft, mechanical hum.

The woman inside the pod let out a sudden, sharp, ragged gasp of fresh air.

Her dark eyelashes flickered once. Twice.

Then, her clear blue eyes–identical in every way to the eyes of the woman standing over her–opened wide.

The real Anna Vance looked directly up at the synthetic shell standing before her.

Her lips parted, and a raspy, weak voice whispered from the depths of a twenty-year sleep:

"You... stole my life."

Before the synthetic Anna could form a single word or take a breath, the heavy steel security doors above the loading dock were blown wide open by a massive military-grade breaching charge.

BOOM!

A rain of concrete and twisted iron rained down onto the loading bay floor.

Through the thick, burning haze of white smoke, a single dark tactical vehicle crashed down onto the dock, its heavy tires screeching against the concrete.

The driver's side door flew open, and Noah Reed stepped out into the red light–wearing full tactical gear, a heavy assault rifle slung across his chest, and his eyes burning with an unhinged, suicidal madness.

He didn't look at Victor Cole. He didn't look at the mercenaries.

He raised his weapon, pointing it directly at the open cryogenic pod, his voice tearing raw and terrifyingly loud through the subterranean vault:

"Step away from her, Anna! That thing in the pod is not human... and it’s going to kill us all in ten seconds!”