Calen slammed a folder onto her table."You're not the only one who noticed. Government's formed something called the Observation Bureau. Their theory—if enough people doubt something, it stops existing. They're trying to standardize belief."
Elara flipped through the grainy surveillance photos: entire blocks blurred out as if erased mid-memory; streets that no longer matched their own maps; people whose reflections didn't agree with their bodies.
"They're editing memory," she whispered. "The Forgetting Phase… at civic scale."
"Exactly," Calen said. "And they think you started it."
Before Elara could respond, her phone vibrated—no caller ID, no location.
The line hissed, then shaped itself into words—half voice, half thought.
"Elara… the world is splitting again. You must anchor observation."
Her pulse tightened. "Who is this?"
"Lira Chen," the voice said. "I used to decode neural feedback for the Institute. Your mother left a message—inside the mirror system. It's writing new equations in light. Meet me at the south sub-station before it forgets me."
The line died.The mirror across the room fogged without heat or steam.Letters formed slowly in the condensation, as if written by a hand inside the glass:
| YOU REMEMBER TOO MUCH.
Elara's breath went still.
| Residual Echoes
The south sub-station lay under the river—half-flooded, half-lit, walls humming with two different electrical frequencies overlapping.Lira Chen waited beside a terminal that flickered between blue and red, like a heartbeat caught deciding.
"Dr. Voss," Lira said. "Or whichever version survived."
"Both," Elara answered.
Lira's mouth twitched into a nervous half-smile. "Good. You'll need them."
She keyed a sequence.The monitors snapped into a layered map of Orvale—one solid, one translucent, both occupying the same coordinates.
"Every reflection has a frequency," Lira explained. "When you merged realities, you didn't end Project Doppel—you promoted it. The mirrors are now one organism. They're trying to resolve contradictions."
Calen paced behind them. "And if they can't?"
Lira's hand hovered over the kill switch."It will reboot the universe. Locally, at least."
The lights dimmed—twice.A siren above them spiraled downward, then upward again, two tones arguing over which belonged to the real world.
A mirror on the wall cracked without breaking.Light leaked through—not the room's light, but light from somewhere else.
Through the fracture, Elara saw another sub-station—same layout, same shadows—and herself, slightly delayed, staring back.
Her other self mouthed the words:
| It's beginning.
Reality twitched.The ceiling beams rippled like water under pressure, fusing steel with shadow.
"Elara!" Calen yelled. "What's happening?"
"Collision," she said. "The boundaries are rubbing together."
"Can you stop it?"
She stared at her reflection—at the version of her still a fraction behind.
"Not stop," she whispered. "Guide."
She pressed her palm to the crack.Light surged outward.The mirror sang—high, crystalline, like tuning forks vibrating in harmony.
Two worlds hesitated.
Then one spoke.
| ANCHOR RECONFIRMED. DRIFT 0.00 PERCENT.
The ripples calmed.The mirror sealed itself.
Lira exhaled shakily. "What did you do?"
Elara's voice was almost too soft to hear."Taught it how to remember without choosing."
Calen stared at her like she was a puzzle only reality could solve.
The sirens above ground fell silent.
The drift—temporarily—held.