Speaker 1: Hello, I'm welcomed stories all the time. Glad you are here.
Let's get into it. The emergency ton slice through can
laugh at and my reflection at once be gone. Hand
flattened against the inside of the television glass behind my face,
veins like dark cords under ashen skin. Fear arrived in
a physical way. My throat clenched, my fingers locked on
the remote, and I did not move. The overlay reed
remained still do not turn. That directive shaped every choice
I made in the next hour. I am twenty eight.
I live alone in a narrow apartment above an appliance
for pair shop. I had been halfway through a mug
of cold tea when the signal cut in the living
room lamp was off. The TVUS light threw my silhouette
on to the coffee table. The light was the only
thing that let me see the figure pressing its palm
to the other side of the glass. The first minute
is all details that insist on action. I set the
mug down, My left hand hovered over the sofa arm
and did not twitch. Figure in the glass tilted its
head in the opposite direction of mine. It matched a
movement I had not made. I breathed shalloily and counted
the seconds on my phone screen. The count kept me steady.
Counting kept my fingers from spasmen. The operator voice cut
through again. Precise and low, broadcast operator, this is an
unauthorized reflection override. If you are viewing this feat comply
with stillness. Any immotion increases transfer risk. The voice said
my name because it had my dress from the cable registry.
Hearing my name made me flinge inward, not outward. I
felt the urge to test the rule. Fear pushed me
to test it. I forced my shoulders down, clenched my jaw,
and forced a breath through my nose. My fingers twitched twice.
The figure copied both twitches, delayed by a fraction of
a second. That delay was the tool. It measured me.
It learned where my micro movements were. The broadcast operator
added a detail and clip sentences case file reflection incidents.
Rule one remained still until signal clears. Rule two do
not speak to the reflection. Rule three II FI mum
a visible and report it one safe. The mention of
rule shifted me from private panic to a cold, procedural dread.
I recognized the shift and used it. I let procedure
anchor me, obey instruction, observe, survive. My eyes moved only
through tiny glances. The television was an old crat. The
glass was slightly convex. I saw the figure's coat in
the reflection. A faint red emblem rested on the figure's chest.
The emblem was a ring of intersecting lines I had
only seen once before, a Sepia photograph of my grandfather
in uniform on the mantle, his jacket buttoned wrong. That
photograph sat ten feet to my left. The emblem connected
the figure to something in my living room. Recognition tied
in my jaw. I had two emotion shifts in quick succession.
First doubt when I considered whether the emblem was coincidence.
Then fear when the figure shifted its hand and the
glass flashed a hairline fracture. I had to keep my
hand still. The fracture looked like a spider line across
the screen, white against black. The figure pressed hard. A
faint red spare spread along the crack like incan paper.
The smear match the emblems hue the broadcast operator's voice
applied static lace corrections do not record, do not call
for help unless authorized. A breach attempt will follow. The
seventh roset. Remain still await the containment update. The operator
spoke as if reading a checklist in a room with
fuorescent lighting. The voice had no urgency, but all the
force of instruction. I had to speak once I knew
the rules. I also knew silence could be a trap
if no one knew my condition. I mouth the words
rather than shouting. Broadcast operator, can you identify the emblem?
Milets moved, sound did not leave my mouth yet the
overlay changed for a second. The red smear stopped advancing.
The operator replied with the human name, this time clapped
and careful. Broadcast operator, the emblem matches register. In nineteen
seventy four, Delta possible family mimicry noted, remain still do
not engage. Hearing a recorded registry number made the situation
concrete registrary. In nineteen seventy four, Delta meant there were
prior incidents tied to human households that shifted me from
private terror to a small puzzle why my grandfather's emblem?
An event happened again. The figure reached for the mantle
inside the reflection and fingers hoveneered the seepy photograph. The
motion did not translate into my space. Its hand moved
inside the reflection only, But when it touched the photograph
and the reflection, a loose edge of the real photo
on the mantle lifted slightly, as if a breeze had
caught it. I had not breathed that hard. My chest
tightened and my ears rang. The apartment was otherwise mute. Protagonist.
You did you see that? I whispered to nobody, in
particular because voice felt safer as a check then a signal.
My whisper scratched against the rules. The broadcast operator ounced
it fast. Broadcast operator report movement only when secure. Continue
to observe document with non electronic notation, if possible. Their
calm voice was a wrote I held on to I
tore a corner of the grocery receipt and wrote the
number in pencil nineteen seventy four Delter. I pressed pencil
hard enough to leave an indentation on the receipt. Holding
a pencil in my hand felt like an anchor. My
fingers trembled, but I kept them in my lap. Another
emotion shift followed from focus fear to a brutal clarity.
Tarty allowed me to notice small things that fear alone
would have missed. The figure's mouth twitched, but not like
a human mouth. Scwn line distortion made the lit smear
and reappear a mill a second later. The mass twitch
synchronized with a series of my current ruptions on the
TV vertical wobble. I hissed, like tape moving over a
dirty head. Each time the mouth did that, a reversed
whisper appeared in a rum audio on playback, not live.
The whispers when I listened back on my phone later,
with my own phrases reversed and slow. My name the
words still a fragment of my grandfather's first name. I
needed another external event. The television stotted and the overlay
flashed K, SARS and ref seventeen. Then the image was set.
When it returned, the figures shoulder was closer by a
fist whid. Its head had tilted into perfect alignment with
mine In the glass, the red embum glowed of fraction brighter.
I felt the room's temperature drop against my bare forearm.
The hair on my next stood up. I whispered again,
this time to the figure in the reflection. Though I
knew law and instruction for bait, who were you? My
lips moved. The figure opened its eyes eyes. The eyes
were void, black with a red glint. They did not blink.
The figures had tilted in a way an animal might,
not the way human head moves. That till told me
the figure was testing comprehension, not recognition. A neighbor's door
slammed somewhere down the hall. That ordinary noise jolted me,
and the figure's hand twitch. I had to swallow back
a surge of motion. My body wanted to move toward
the door to get help. I forced my feet to
stay planted. The broadcast operator filled the gap with a
voice that sounded on the EDGI strain. Broadcast operator, do
not move toward exits, asits may be trapped during transfer events.
Containment teams are unroute to nearby grude nodes remained still.
The voice used words that implied other people were already acting.
That knowledge both conded and isolated me. I was part
of a system now, but I was alone in my
living room with the cracking screen. The figure pressed its
forehead to the inside of the glass and exhaled, Even
though glass separated us. I felt a vibrant motion, as
if a low note pressed against masternum. The sound was
not audible, It was a pressure inside the bones. My
hands clenched the receipt until the pencil scraping ent to
the paper. My teeth ground. I remembered something concrete from
my childhood, the day my grandfather eye and his uniform
and the smell of starch in a kitchen. That memory
was a single image hemroning at the kitchen table. The
emblem soon cookedly above his pocket. The memory was not
an abstraction. It was an event that had the emblem
to a human routine. Recognizing that routine mattered now because
the figure used recognitions to Coax's motion. The broadcast operator
gave a case note protagonist. She reports familial emblem on
site recommendation visual confirmation only if emblem corresponds to household artifact,
isolate artifact, and cover reflective surfaces. The operator's instructions required
action at risk motion. I weighed obeying against survival. I
moved my knee two inches toward the mantle. My movement
was a test and a mistake. The figure's fingers mirrored
the shift of tighter precision. The hairline crack in the
glass wire, and by a millimeter, A sliver of gas
raised and fell, like the poles of a chat thing.
I froze the instant my knee moved, My mouth went dry.
The broadcast operator's voice sounded closer and quieter. Broadcast operator
transfer probability increased initiating temporary audio loop remained still. The
overlays stuttered, and the TV repeated a low tone three times.
On the third turne, the Figures Palm flattened in a
spider line fracture lit from the center of the near
black screen. Fracture followed a straight path from the figures
pond to the embum's smear, and many cliffanker arrived. When
the Figures Palm slipped in, the finer print pattern of
its hand left a white print on the inner surface
of the glass that matched the perpendiculus garb of my
left eyeb The print lined with my skull. When I
looked straight at the screen for a heartbeat, I saw
my own face in the print. That image made me
want to move to wipe to check the print closely. Instead,
I held still, encountered, counting, capped my breath, even outside
a delivery truckaddle for a moment, then drove away. That
ordinary traffic noise broke the leap of attention. I felt
my limbs listened slightly, but the progression of danger continued.
The broadcast operator added a new voice layer recorded case
notes from earlier incidents, read in a flattered tone. Case
salensand ref tweal, subject moved, transfer, successful, subject removed from registry.
The recorded note was a warrant spelled out in blunt terms.
I whispered the word no under my breath. My whisper
carried a decision. I would not let the reflection claim
me as others had been claimed. My refusal felt like
a physical act. I moved my pencil to the countertop
and slid the receipt under the edge of a heavy
ceramic bowl. That minor action felt like a decision in
the face of instruction. The figure's hand never left the
glass the television he keeped again. The overlay repeated the
three rules in shorter form. The figure duplicated my throat
clearing in the reflection, a near soundless imitation that tightened
my jaw. Then the figure did something I had not expected.
It turned it had to look past me in the
reflection and stared at the whole way behind my couch.
The reflections had pointed at the whole way where in
my apartment's real space, a shadow moved. A person stepped
into the hallway, a maintenance worker with a flashlight. He
did not look like a threat. He had a clipboard
and a fluorescent vest slung over one shoulder. He knocked
once on my door and called my name, protagonist, jew
are you okay? The maintenance worker's voice came offled through
the door, hearing another real human voice became a new
external event and forced a choice. I moved my mouth
into whispers of the broadcast operator would pick it up
and log it. Broadcast operator, someone set the door. Do
not authorize movement. I said the words clearly enough for
the operator to tag the event. The operator replied. Broadcast
operator confirmed identity through non reflective method. Do not open
await verification. They need to use a method that would
not create a mirror. I slid the door chain open
and pushed a dead bolt just enough to peer through
the people, keeping my head level. The worker announced himself
as Javia from Building Services and said there was a
power fluctuation in the stairwell. The figure in the reflection
lifted a finger and tapped the glass where my people
image appeared. The point aligned with Javi's face in the
real hallway. For an instant, the reflection looked like it
would switched places with the hallway image. My mouth went dry,
my hands were beat all cold. I argued with the
operator in clip's sentences, because dialog needed to force decisions
out of the institutional voice. Broadcast operator, if I verify
a Javia, can I step away from the screen, I
asked broadcast operator, verification only through non reflective method. Do
not step into direct line of sight with the screen
while unverified. If verified, cover all reflective surfaces before movement.
The operator's words forced me to act, but more precision
than panic law. I asked Javia to set his clipboard
down and knock with one extra tap if he was
an official. He complied. The sound repeated three times. I
watched a reflection slip curl with the echo. I kept
my head fixed. I heard Javia identified the stable fault
and stated he would wait for building security. He did
not try to enter that ordinary protocol. Let me breathe
a notch wider. The figure bore down on the glass.
The red emblem pulls as if it had heart. The
pomp pressed till a thin crackspread, and the glass shivered.
The broadcast operator's voice registered as a final instruction. Broadcast operator.
If breach occurs, remain still. Case file will be updated.
Await further transmission. This feed will loop until containment arrives.
The overlay gave a case number and then began its
reset tone. When the tone completed, the glass fractured more.
This was the climax. The figures hand slicked for an
expanding hairline crack, and the faint olive residuesmered onto the
outer surface of the glass. The smear was red. It
matched the emblem color. The smeal left the smell I
could identify exactly ozon and the metallic tongue of burnt celluloid.
I tasted metal at the back of my throat. My
body reacted with a tiny, involuntary leane. The figure mirrored flawlessly,
and its face came so close in the reflection that
the paws on its cheek were visible through the scan lines.
The broadcast operator's convoorice became a recorded loop, and the
ovalay text stuttered into static. The TV burned the last
clear image of the figure, and then the signal collapsed
into a single repeating tone. The transmission cut to a
procedural end card kess the Lounson ref seventeen monitor frequency.
The operator's voice returned and said broadcast operator, document artifact,
and remain present. Await Retrieval teams do not speak to reflection.
Then the feed dropped to static. The room was suddenly
quite except for the lehumm of the refrigerator and my breathing.
My shoulders moved with each breath like a trapped animal's.
I stood slowly because the final paragraph must tie to
a concrete vent. I reached for the mantle, touched the
cepiphotograph's glass with the pad of my finger and felt
a thin oll smere on the surface where the reflection
it touched my family image. My finger tip picked up
bread recidue. That recidy connected the reflection to the physical object.
I looked back at the crack TV screen. The cracks
bided and the smear matched my finger tipped print, as
if some one had pressed my hand into paint. Some
one knocked on my door twice in quick succession building security,
I called out, keeping my voice Eddy, it's me. I'm okay,
I'm staying put. The security godvoys asked me to keep
the chain fastened. I told him I had seen the
feed and request it containment. He they were notified. The
final concrete action closed the chapter. I sat back down
in front of the cracked television, placed a receipt with
the registry number under the ceramic bowl, and stayed motionless.
With the smell of ozen in my nose. The room
held its breath with me. The broadcast had told me
to wait. I obeyed emotion route fard, rove every choice
in the opening minutes, and kept my body rigid. I
moved through doubt to brittle cloudy to resolve my choices
were accorded stillness, observation, verification, and a final decision to
remain in place until retrieval. The chapter ends with a
clear situational beat security at the door on my decision
to remain motionless, leaving the problem contained for now but unresolved.
The ovlais had ordered me to await the next transmission,
and I did not disobey. The emergency tone cut through
the staable speaker while I held the railing and watched
my reflection freeze. Suspicion tightened my throat. Before fear arrived,
I could fill the building's loudspeaker, shaking the glass. A neighbor,
Maya leaned into the landing and swallowed once. Did you
hear that? Maya? Her voice hit the stairwell and bounced
off the concrete. The mirror showed my back and behind
it the second solawatch shifting closer along the glass. I
kept my hands on the metal. I did not step closer.
My suspicion made me count out the seconds with my breath.
The first five seconds revealed the core problem. The figure
in the mirror moved only when something in front of
the glass moved. That fact shaped every choice I made
that night. The emergency tone kept pulsing. I remembered the
gaunt hand pressed inside the television glass from the previous override,
and how I had kept perfectly still. Then that memory
steered my restraint. Now my reached into her pocket and
pulled out a foam. She held it up with a
hand that trembled. Maya, I said, because I needed her
name sharp in my head. Dante waved at the glass.
She blinked and tried to smile. I want this on record,
she said, her thumb hovered over the screen. Maya's thumb
shook when she set the camera to video. I felt
my breathing shorten as the figure and the mirror micro adjusted,
matching the air. I drew into my lungs. The broadcast
operator came on through the stale speaker with a clipped tone.
His voice had the same low measured cadence I had
heard on the municipal override before. Remained still. The operator
movement invites crossing, do not break reflective surfaces. The words
landed like metal against my ribs. Hearing the directive made
me stiller than my suspicion had we both obeyed. Mere
crutch camera angled fingers went around the phone. Do not move,
I whispered. I meant it for her, un for myself.
The figure in the mirror tilted its head against an
impossible ankle and an uneven read Smere pulse to its chest,
where the mum showed through the reflection. Mike got tightened
into a decision. Do not at gather evidence. Mere filmed
the mirror for twenty seconds. Her recording line wavered with
static from the stairwell speaker. When she played back a
few seconds of the clip on her phone, the reflection
did not match. In the playback. The silouette lighted my
head by a fraction of a second and blinked when
I had not. My shoulder sag she it moved when
you blinked her fiss shirt a new calculation. I could
hear the operator return over the speaker. Note reflected entities
I exploit, not an electronic class report, all mirror areas.
The operator's was added procedural distance, The instruction sharp and
the choice is available to us. My suspicion changed to
doubt when Maya, maybe it's just an edit. She kept
replaying the footage. Maybe it was a camera artifact, I said,
because I wanted that to be true. My voice came
out tight. My shot back. Call them a liar, then
tell the operator that's a lie. The words were small
and quick. I had to force my breathing to stay even.
Doubt called into fear as the silhouette moved a fraction closer.
When Maya adjusted her wrist. We argued in short sentences
while the operator patched in additional directives. Maya stopped moving
the phone. No, we need proof, we need someone could
walk in. Stand down. I'm standing down, Maya, but she
did not take her hand from the phone. The operator's
voice sounded again. Containment team and brute do not interact
with reflective surfaces. Record only from a non reflective angle.
That instruction made Maya set the phone knee and angled
the screen away. Her fingers hovered over the record button
like a person waiting to strike. An external event interrupted
a residence. Footsteps came up the stairs. A woman called, hey,
anyone hurt. Her voicelid passed the landing and into our
small cluster. The approaching person stayed at the top of
the stairs, peeking around the corner. Her expression read surprise,
then confusion, then the precise calculation of some one deciding
whether to involve themselves. She is everything okay, Meyer answered,
we had an override. There's a mirror danty. The woman
stepped back. That arrival forced the problem into a public
register and raised the stakes. I felt more exposed. The
operator relaid a recorded clip from another building. The clip
played through the stairwell speaker and into the thread of
the stairwell air. The playback showed a man at his
bathroom sink. He blinked in recording the reflection raised his
palm when the man did not. The clip's edges rolled
with tipe wobble. A pale hand pressed behind the glass
and left the smell when the glass fogged. Listening to
that reaply turned my doubt into dread. I felt my
hands bruise the railing. Nay, or that's what I saw,
that exact hand. She lowered her voice. Mayor you reshaking?
Hold still? I said it because trembling made the figure
more confident. The operator's voice returned with data points. The
last types reflected feel vulnerabilities and an instruction to avoid
all mirrors and windows unless ordered. He added, primary witnesses
will be logged for observation. The last sentence read like
an assignment. I realized then that my compliance would make
me a subject of containment as much as a survivor.
We moved test limits. My wanted to film the mirror
with a phone positioned at the stairwell window. I argued
in short bursts, physician, from the window, not the landing.
Are you sure, yes, daunty aim at the glass. She
set the phone in the sill and angled it to
catch the mirror without reflecting the device. The phone recorded
the mirror from a non reflective perspective. When my played
the clip back, the figure was still slightly out of phase.
The footage confirmed what the operator had said. The end
she could misalign itself against ordinary reflection frame. Eames, I
felt a change inside me. Then the first emotion shift.
Suspicion gave way to urgent fear. My hands moved with
a new purpose. I slaid my phone from my pocket
and found the old photo of the television incident from before.
I had kept the single still from that night, where
the gone town pressed against the inside of the TV glass.
I showed the image to myer. You remember this, I asked.
She nodded and swallowed. The concrete image of the gone
hand made the threat specific rather than hypothetical. An external
event occurred again. A maintenance worker arrived at the stairwell
door with a flashlight. He announced himself by tapping his
radio building maintenance. We were checking the override. The man
lingered at the stairwell entrance appeared at the mirror. His
flashlight beam cut across the glass and made the figures
outlined shift. The figure in the mirror moved minutely towards
the beam, as if attracted to the new light. That
reaction proved the entity track small shifts in the environment.
The maintenance worker said, what happened here? I answered, there
is a reflective anomaly. Do not break it. Meyer added,
we are recording. The worker's voice went flat. Do you
need medical, he asked. Mai shook her head. No, We'll
wait for the operator. The worker stepped back and sealed
the stairwell door with a temporary wedge. The physical act
of cillin changed our options. Containment would arrive, but we
were stuck between the mirror and the closed stairwell. The
operator abated instructions over the speaker with measure cadence, locked
the stairwell, Keep witnesses clear, do not engage the reflection away,
containment team, do not speak to the figure. Those words
limited us. The operator's voice also said one unexpected line,
do not film directly into glass with foam flash. That
detail explained why the figure had reacted to the maintenance flashlight.
Maya's hands trembled as she put her phone back into
her pocket. We tested restrain again. Maya whispered, if I
take one step closer, will it cross. Her question landed
with the weight of a decision. I answered, we follow
the directive on tea move. My voice did not carry conviction.
My next motion was a small one. I moved my
thumb to the railing and squeezed. The figure tightened its
posture in the mirror and leaned forward another fraction. The
change in a linement felt like a threat. Closing a seam.
A new external event forced his collation some one from
the next landing. Dumb burst open the door and lunge
toward the mirror. He shuddered to break it, break it now,
he moved with reckless speed. The man reached up and
swung asure at the glass. I registered each second like
a machine. Mayer shouted stop dom t w Her voice
clipped off with his OStatic from the speaker. The man
hit the mirror with a blunt object, and the glass
did not shatter. Instead, the figures hand mirrored the man's motion,
impressed with equal force from the other side, halting the
object's momentum. The mirror held. The landing filled with the
sound of gliding and bags, and the third of bodies.
The confrontation as the coal climac set by the beat.
The neighbor lunged. The protagonist stayed motionless, and the figure
nearly aligned to cross. The man who had struck the
mirror staggered back. He grabbed his pleading hand and backed away, panting.
The figures palm flattened on the glass opposite to strike,
visible and terrifying. The operator's voice cut through brittle with
data containment in coming. When its maintained position, the stale
smelled sharply of metal and dust. My sat down and
the steps and pressed her palms to her face. She
I couldn't stop him. Her voice broke into heard fragments.
I forced my dauto and glench, I said, mayor stays
still with the operator's voice offered a new rule, do
not let the train personnel proch reflective surfaces evacuate other residents.
That directive put responsibility onto us to prevent further attempts.
The man who had struck the glass cat stumbling backward
toward the stairwell door and left his hand bleeding and
his eyes wild. A recorded moment changed her understanding. The
operator played a clip taken from a lobby camera. It
showed a woman's reflection raise its head when she had
not then the reflection bling three times in a sequence.
The operator commented, secrets mimicry. Observed mirrors can practice timing
to exploit micro movements when in doubt prior to testillus.
Hearing that line, I felt my fear shift to brittle clare.
I accepted the rules. My options narrowed to compliance and observation.
The containment team arrived with hard boots and helmets. Less
than five minutes later, their leader announced over a bullhorn
containment team stand by for briefings. They moved with slow,
precise motions. I watched them set up temporary blocks of
duct tape and cones. The leader addressed the operator over
his headset and then looked directly at me and said,
you stay where you are. We'll need you statement. I
did not move. I kept my hands in the railing.
During the debrief, a twist unfolded. The containment leader informed
us that the maintenance worker, at a prior report on
a similar event in a different building corridor, he we
logged in an earlier reflection that responded to an argument
between two residents last week. Mere leaned forward. Who were they?
She asked? The leader answered names withheld for observation. One
has been moved to an external facility. That revelation reframed
the earlier events. Containment had been active, selective, and secretive.
A part of me sharpened into suspicion again, this time
aimed at the institution. You sh no response. The operator's
recorded voice softened only fractionally when he asked me questions
during the witness lock. He did you move at any point?
I said no. I held the railing and breathe evenly
at the operator. Did anyone else make contact with the glass?
I said, yes, A residence struck it? He blurwed Meyer added,
my saw the hand pressed back. She named herself in
a direct line. The operator repeated names and logged them
into his recorder. The sound of the portable tape recorder
made the moment feel far more unofficial. The containment leader
then issued a new rule. While eyes in helmets watched us,
all reflective surfaces in this building out to be covered
for the next seventy two hours. Primary witnesses will be
quarantined for observation. Those orators have practical consequences. The starewell
would be wrapped in heavy black cloth, and the lobby
windows would be boarded. Mayer stood up slowly. She they
took someone last week. The leader nodded and tapped his radio. Yes,
observation and evaluation. Peeve still to night. We'll escort you
for a formal interview. His cadence was military precise. We
walked down in a slow line with the containment team
and the maintenance worker. The building lights had a harsh
white that made sweat visible un foreheads. The leader moved
me through the lobby and then into a small utility
office for a formal statement. The operator sat across from
me with his lapel microphone clip tape a quarter between us.
He measured questions and I answered with short sentences. My
fear had shifted into tactical composer. I spoke in specific facts.
In the middle of the formal interview, an unexpected reveal
came from the operator's data stream. The analysis shows the
figure of lines only with certain glass compositions. The red
emblem appears in reflections only and seems to indicate a
phase where crossing is possible. I asked operator, what is
that emblem? He paused, the first human hesitation I had
heard from him, unknown origin. We catalog it as a
marker for attented crossings. The operator's admission altered the stakes.
The emblem was not random, It was a sign of intent.
Meyer interrupted with the short, urgent line. It had that
embeum last night on the TV. Her voice was flat.
I felt the memory return the gaunt hand in a television.
The emblem pulsing fainted on its chest in the grainy sill.
The operator's face did not change, but his hands tightened
around the recorder. He confirming previous ark have linkage to
television instant. The connection made the stairwell event part of
a pattern. Our small cluster became part of a network
in the operator's system. An emotional shift occurred in me.
Then I moved from brittle clarity into resolved caution. My
body reacted with action rather than panic. I asked the operator,
what do we do to prevent crossing? He answered with
procedural voice. Avoid mirrors and windows, do not use reflective devices,
cover glass with non reflective cloth. Maintained stillness when in
proximity to reflection. Report any defined motion immediately. I repeated
the instructions allowed as if reciting survival steps. After the briefing,
the containment team wrapped the Stowell mirror in a rough
sheet at matt fabric. The material muffled the mirror's edge
and turned the surface into a flat, dark plane. The
act of covering made the prisons behind the glass received
from visibility, not from reality. The operator lard the covering
as evidence of protocol. I watched my help tuck the
fabric under the frame. She whispered, I cain to stop
seeing it. I replied, then, do not look. Keep your
hands busy. She took the cloth with steady fingers and folded.
The final external beat came when a containment team escorted
us to the manager's office. The manager read out a
list of rules and asked for signatures. He you will
be monitored. Cameras will be adjusted to avoid direct glass angles,
no reflective objects in public corridors. My assigned with a
small and steady line. I signed with the shallow breath.
The act of writing our names formalized our status as
primary witnesses. The operator concluded the night with two procedural lines.
We will arcave your statements. You will be listed for
follow up interviews. Do not attempt to contact other witnesses directly.
The operators tape. Her cord clicked off. I felt a
remainder of tread. As I walked back through the lobby
with mine and the sailed stair will behind us, the
containment leader said this is contained for now, which was
both the report and a warning. Back in my apartment. Later,
I checked the phone clip I had left on my device.
I watched the mere footage in low light. Figures had
tilted in a way, no human head curved as chess
pauls with the red smear. The sight was wrought and simple.
The memory of the gaunt hand at the television returned
in full detail, veins like cords under ashens skin, finger
splade as if trying to press rosilliuloid. That recal served
as a close evidence from before echoing into Ostaeowell. I
counted my breath again and felt one final shift in
my emotion. The fear turned into a slow, watchful resolution.
I set my phone to airplane mode and placed it
inside a drawer. I turned off every reflective screen. I
taped sheets of map paper over the picture frames. I
read the operators written instructions in a containment packet and
pinned them by the door. Each motion was concrete and deliberate.
Night came and the building slept with lays of cloth
over windows and mirrors outside. Distant sirens kept low cadence.
I lay on the couch and did not look at
the television. I felt the edges of the night's events
tighten into procedure. The operator's voice echoed in my head,
remain still, do not speak to the figure, report movement.
The rules mapped into my actions. I breathed by count
until sleep too, com measure portion of me. At three
in the morning, I woke to a soft thumb at
the building door. A containment team member's voice said, checkpoint
all sealed. I went to the door and peered through
the people. The hallway beyond was empty. A folded slip
of paper lay tapped under the mat at reed report
any new reflections immediately operator. The slip was both a
reassurance and instruction. I folded it into my palm and
felt the paper as thin fibers. The chapter ends not
with a quiet metaphor, but with a practical event. This
stale mirror remains covered. The maintenance work of submitted a
blood report. The resident who struck the gas was moved
for observation, and the operator lobbed a new protocol that
will be distributed building wide. I set the containment packet
on the table and checked a locked stairwell window one
last time. Then I turned away, closed the apartment door,
and left the light off. I will follow the rules.
I will not move if a reflection stirs, I will
report visible red marks, and I will keep the memory
of the gaunt hand pressed against television glass as proof.
The operator's tape sits in the archive. Maya's footage is
backed up on two devices. The building has new coverings
and a new list of names. Outside the city keeps
turning its lights on and off, and we wait for
the next transmission. The last sound before sleep is the
low hum of the building's emergency system cycling, and then
the line goes dead into static. The emergency of ride
chattered my disconnection mid sentence when a gaunt hand slam
flat against the inside of the television glass behind my
reflected face. Fear tightened my jaw. I held my breath
and did not move. The overlay reader containment notice and
an instruction to remain motionless. While remote diagnostics routed in
and the living room light kept strobing with the signal
escam lines. I felt the living room carpet under my
bare feet, the hoody fabricam my forearm, and the pressure
of the han on the other side of the screen
like a physical order I could not ignore. I had
learned suspicion the week before, when the television first to
have laid the warning tone on can sit come laughter?
I had learned why I measured every reflection and why
I avoided toward bright glass. The stairwell override two nights
earlier had frozen my reflection while Maya, did you hear that?
Maya's arrival turned the building speaker into a second trembling
pane of glass. Those incidents were concrete, a hand shone flat,
a neighbor at the landing aloud speaker that rattled a bulb.
Those fact shaped my choices. Now fear pushed my body
into stillness and kept my chin tilted just enough not
to see the figure's full face. Stay still at the
broadcast operator through the speaker for slow and precise operator,
Do not move until instruckt to technician en route, maintain
eye linens green only the operators was arrived without warmth,
and the low distortion throated under every word. I mouthed
the words back with no sound. My throat was dry,
my heart beat in my ears. Maya's hand was at
the door frame. You called me, she said, and her
foot shifted on to the entry rug. Her voice was
close and small. Maya Dauntes stepped forward. I said, that
was the first shift doubt to active control. I put
my palm on her shoulder and kept my hand flat,
fingers bread, like a restraining bar. She looked at me,
and then at the tell vision. Ye re ghosting me,
She said, what is that? The figure in the glass
match Maya's head tilt half a second after house. The
delay made my stomach collar. I had built a routine
from the earlier overrides. Do not match, keep still, speak
only to calm others. The figure tilted its head in
a way that resisted gravity, an angle that made the
back of the neck look too long. Its coat collar
tore inward like a wound. A faint red emblem pulls
at its chest, visible only in reflection, so thin and
precise that I thought at first it was a damaged pixel.
I check must leave, with my thumb feeling nothing. At first,
the broadcast operator repeated containment directive's operator cover reflective surfaces,
disconnect source limit movement to essential only The order sounded
like a script. Loan By wrote, it also carried weight.
I heard radiostatic swell and the technician's voice come on
the patch for a single sentence. Glass is warming on
this end, reading spike when's subject breathes. That was the
second shift, controlled fear to alarm. The technicians now turns
bylation into measurable risk. Meire I said again, firmer, do
not look directly at the screen. Sit down on the couch.
I guided her by the elbow. She obeyed, but kept glancing.
Her knees bumped the coffee table. The figure's hand shifted
behind my reflected ear, fingers playing on the inside surface.
I felt a cool glance in contact along my sleeve
where the sleeve met the glass. My skin rose under
that cold touch. I could not describe the temperature with metaphors.
It felt metallic and shop like a coin press cold
against the skin. I closed my eyes to steady myself
and swallowed hard. We argued in low clip exchanges to
keep words brief. What is it my demand to tell
me it's not for you to step forward, I answered, myles,
listen to me, duntee move. She started to stand and
I tightened my grip. Let go. She pushed no. There
were five quick lines between us, each a tug of whale.
The operator's voice straded through at Pete remained motionless. Technician
eutter two minutes. Those two minutes stretched, My shoulders burned
with tension. My hand left the back of the couch
and hovered near the sleeve where the emblem Esmera touched
the fabric. A field. Technician is feet cut in the screen.
Within the screen showed a control room monitor and a
gloved hand running a censer across a croff frame in
another apartment. Readings show my coroabrasions forming on the internal surface.
The technician said he'd across the glass at two degrees
celsius above ambient surface tension inconsistent. The operator asked, can
a breach? The technician answered, it is already altering the surface.
My mind snapped to the memory of the gaunt hand
from chapter one that flattened against the glass with veins
like cords. That memory was no metaphor. It was a
recorded event, and I had to treat it as physical risk.
The figure began to move in mimicry with a precision
that out. It mirrored my his fingers as if flying
strace between her joints and the figuress. When my tucked
hair behind her ear, the figure closed an identical motion.
A heart beat later, I planted with palms on my niece,
stopped myself breathing in patents the figure could pick up.
That was another shift from focus tension to methodical restraint.
My mouth formed commands without sound. Breeze slow, keep eyes forward,
Do not flinch my whisper. Why are you not moving,
I said, because it comes through a rouletted O line.
She who you that, I replied, Er operator, I saw
it happen before. Remember the hand she remembered. She covered
her eyes with a cuff for a second and then
drew her hands away. Her fingers tremble. We can tape
over the screen, she said. I looked at the technician's feed.
He was already wrote in a temporary shield. Not yet,
the operator said, covering creates new reflections. Wait for guidance.
The operator's pause was a decision. I felt the weight
of protocols between us like an instrument's blade. Small noises
cut into the room at Kettle's distant is in the
building footstep two floors below the soft clock of a
neighbor's keys. Each sound threatened to distract someone into motion.
I forced my voice low and steady. Maya name me
the number of your street, now, she answered in three words.
I repeated the number aloud. The technician acknowledged the detail
and keeped coordinates into the remote shield deployment. The presence
in the glass changed posture, angling toward the scene where
the television frame met the casing. It pressed harder with
its palm, and a hairline fissure away from the center
outward inside the glass reflection. The fissure brought a new
physical event. A thin crack appeared on our side of
the crout, as if stress lines translated across the surface.
The technician cursed under breath, and the feed crack, forming
at two centimeters from midline increased shielding. Now the operator
ordered do not move field team, engage mechanical clamp at door.
Maya made a sound, a short, sharp breadth that vibrated
through the room. The figure matched her short breath with
a tamboula shiver. I had the breath in my own
chest and tightened every muscle to stop in voluntary motion. Maya,
I can tie stay still forever. You can for minutes,
I said, we have to hold for minutes. Please. Her
hands found mine. She squeezed the figures hand culled on
the other side the glass a mirror of our joint grip.
The sensation on my sleeve was more distinct now. The
grain of something transferred and clung to the net. I
brushed at the linen and found redland on my thumb.
The embum shape pressed in and exactly into the yawn.
I did not flinch when I saw it. Instead, I
swallowed and kept my hands visible on my knees. The
technician's force returned, clipped. We can deploy a shield that
clamps the frame, but it's a manual window. Field team
need all way access, The operator said, authorize fil teene
breach it his error. He stamp clamps no a direct
line of sight. During engagement, the hallway light flickered as
someone aside used the intercom, and knock sounded at the door.
It was not a knock from a stranger. It was
firm and procedural. The field technician arriving another external event.
I moved my head a degree to look at the
door without altar in the line of my eyes to
the screen. The person at the door called my name.
This field respond open for clamp I answered, hold operator,
open hall, I will do it. The operator said negative,
wait until clampson place a second voice. The field technician
on camera muttered, we need a visual to align clamps.
My muscles quaked with the choice. Maya's breath hitched beside me.
The figure in the gloss lid its shoulder into the
space between our reflections and the doughs light. Its face
was along, aided and wrong. Its mouth was a void
that shifted whence scandlines passed. I felt anger flare under
the fear, anger at the figure for testing us, anger
at the situation for forcing decisions. I did not want
to Mae push my hand open the door. She hissed.
We must do something, I said, Maya, ye must stay.
Do not step closer. She shoved lightly again. I want
to lose you to reflection. Her voice cracked. That was
the required confrontation, A short argument with rapid lines. Maya stop,
I said, operator, we need immediate clamp alim at guidance.
The operator answered, protagonist, place your left hand and the
set slower edge and put your way to counterbalance fail
team will clamp keep arms visible. I did as order
because the operator and technician alternated commands that we had
to follow. As I leaned forward to place my hand
in the cabinet, the figure pushed from inside the glass
with sudden force. Its fingers went through as though the
boundary were dense smoke, not solid material. The tip of
something called brushed my wrist. A sharp white pain flared
across the sleeve seam where the emblem a smear had been.
I sucked her through my teeth and held the position
because the operators directive was still live. The field team's
clamp engaged, and a mechanical grew and filled the hallway.
The figures hand snapped between our space, and it's the
final pressure that trimmed down my arm. When the clamp blocked,
there was a physical rip, sound like taped tearing. The
technician shewed a course into the feed the figure's face pocket,
as if it were trying to pass her remembrane. I
tasted copper where the emblem's residue had touched my lip,
and then a hollow egg moved from my wrist into
my forearm. The broadcast operator containment achieved the immove reflective
surfaces perprot CULTU did not remove apple that touched emblem
until decontamination. The operator's voice sounded orderly, but a words
mapped to a different stake contamination. This was no longer
only visual danger. It could transfer. Mare leaned forward and
tried to look at my sleeve. What is that? She whispered,
I grab her wrist. Not yet, I said Operator Anita.
Deacon kit now. The operator replied, stand by filting to
deploy Deacon at door two. The featured the clamp and
a black gloved hands played over the TV frame. The
figures palmesied and flattened along the inside. Its shoulder creak
like a joint being wound. It did not cry out,
It did not speak. It only adjusted and watched with
an almond eye that had a faint redlint. The room
smelled of ozone and burnt Cellu Lloyd, the scent the
figure carried in every prior appearance. My skin prickled at
the memory of the gaunt palm in chapter one, and
the stair will speak as rattled in chapter two. These
memories were factual anchors. I referred to them. Allowed to
keep decisions concrete. Meier, do you remember the hand from
two weeks ago? She nodded, eyes weber focused. I do
we have to follow them. We have to cover the
other mirrors, I said operator author is, howisweep? Do you copy?
The operator confirmed and list its steps. We obeyed. The
rap must leave in a plastic sheet, even though the
emblem had already bled into the net. The field ignian
used gauze and a small solvent failed taken from a kit.
Do not rinse until we test, he said on the speaker.
The operator added, record everything evidence channel three. Do not
talk over feed. I could hear the technicians breath through
his mask in the camera as he worked. Mikep repeating
the street number allowed and anchor to place in the
operator's look. Her repetition was s deadow. Now she had
shifted from panic to methodical support. After the clamp, the
figure's movements, load, the technician's instruments pained in a meter
rid decreased fluctuations. The operator instructed the coverings go upon windows,
that a damp cloth be placed, costs in path, mirrors,
that lights bedimed to reduce claire. We did these tasks
with short, sharp motions. Every small movement was planned and
supported by a spoken cure. Fold the lamp shaded ward.
I told meya, she did it without looking. Our actions
changed the scenario minute by minute. Risk reduced, not eliminated.
The figure remained visible in other reflections. It had migrated
to the whole us framed photos appearing behind people who
were not there. They showed up in a spoons curve
on the kitchen counter and in the black face of
a switched off phone. The field technician warned, cover all gloss.
It will follow new surfaces. That was the twists I
had not wanted. Removing one channel only multiplied others. A
plan intended to isolate now required constant vigilance and redistribution
of attention. The operator ordered a full sweep. Neighbors came
door to door in small groups. I talked to them
instead of thinking. I gave short instructions, cover it, tit,
cloth over glass, sit down now. Their names came out quickly.
Tom checked the hallway mirror. Lena helped Ma with the couch.
The dialogues when people arrived were short commands and acknowledgments,
but those exchanges moved the plot. They allowed the field
team to deploy a mobile shield and gave us time
to isolate the room. When the mobile shield arrived, the
technician wheeled into place a portable frame of downed glass
lined with foil clamp between two jacks. The operator set
a line of cruff frame engaged, dampers figure per scan smaller,
this time in a filament of gold ran across my
wrist where the mbun dab had been. The technician grunted
and set the shield. Now, he said, I will camp
the shield of the TV whole positions. The operator counted
down and then gave a final instruction on clamp lift
gaze only if necessary to confirm, then return ice to center.
We followed protocol. The clamp engaged, The television image collapsed
into a dense wash of static, and then a lot
frame showed only a pale so wet pressed inside the glass.
The emblem on my sleeve had become a precise circle
of red line. The technician set into the feet sample,
taken deacon kit to facility, subject to observation for twenty
four hours at minimum. May I put her palm over
my covered sleeve and said Yuri shaking. I tightened my
jaw and breathed through my nose. I'm fine, I said, operator,
whatever to protocols, I consent to observation. The operator replied
with a string of procedural acknowledgments and a ton marker.
The figure in the glass held its head to one
side and then almost methodically receded into the dock that
showed in the cracked TV face. I had a moment
then when everything read used to the small concrete facts,
a smear of red on yarn, the clamps, mechanical sound,
the names and voices on the operator's channel, and the
field technicians cloved hands packing evidence, no poetic pitch, no
atmospheric drift, only items and commands. Mice sat down and
began to shake, slow and deliberate. She counted out loud
to nine and nine to twenty, her voice staded by repetition.
That was another emotional shift panic to functional care. Before
the feed cut, the operator recorded one more instruction monitor
other residents for mirror anomalies. Do not allow people to
remove items that contacted emblem. Do not speak any incantation
or invitation into reflective surfaces. The technician added, lock the
frame evidence, half second before the signal started to loop.
I felt a cold for it across the inside of
my wrist where the emblems contacted Gray's fabric. It pulls
once faint, like a mechanical hotbeat. Feed dropped to static
with that warning, The static looped with a thin reverse
whisper overlay, and then an abrupt black frame hell for
four seconds before the system powered down the emergency channel.
The room stayed for a beat in silence that felt
ruled by sweat and plastic wrap. The technician said, unstated,
we have sample, we have this smear. We will catalog results.
The operator signed off with a procedural tone and no farewell.
I slid my hands out of the protective wrapping with
care and let my hold them. Her grip was factual
pressure or two levels comfort and restraint. The emblems slint
sat like a foreign corn under the fiber of my sleeve.
I rubbed it between them and forefinger until the technician
stopped me and said hold evidence. The final concrete beat
came when someone in the feet keeped the room'slog number unannounced,
contain and confirmed monitor frequencies stand by for further instructions.
The door closed behind the field team and the whole
way light dimmed into a normal The television remained dark,
a rectangle of black with a hair line crack that
suggested something had tried to pass. I did not feel
resolution as relief. I felt measured compliance, mixed with the
rescue on my skin that tasted like burnt celluloid. My softly,
You did well, I answered, We did what they said.
The last sound I heard before sleep took me was
the operator's clip final note in the log, and a
distant echo of reversed whispers behind the static. The red
lint was taped and labeled. The clamp remained engaged. The
instruction to monitor the frequency was clear and continuing. The
room had closed its stores in the event, but the
emblem on my sleeve made sure I would not forget
the physical facts that governed us. This may out the clamp,
the feed that cut to static. I kept my eyes
away from glass as I lay under a damp towel
on the couch that night, not from fear of the dark,
but to obey the order that had kept us alive.
When I drifted towards sleep, some one knocked once in
the building door two floors below. As sandso ordinary, I
almost rose to answer it. Instead, I breathed slow and
counted aloud. Maya's hand found mine again in the dark
before the monitor in the technician's bag blinked and then
went dark. The last concrete note on the operator's LOP
was a time in a command monitor, the frequency for updates.
I repeated it under my breath and then let the
static wash through my dreamless rests. And that is the end.
Thank you for listening, and I will see you in
the next one.