Cognitive Evaluation
The observation wing sat deep beneath the main facility, separated from the participant quarters by two security checkpoints and a long curved hallway lined with mirrored glass. The deeper Ethan walked into Somna Labs that morning, the more the facility stopped resembling a research center and started feeling like something designed to hide itself underground permanently.
Artificial white light reflected harshly across polished floors while silent staff members moved between rooms carrying tablets and sealed folders without ever making eye contact with the participants. Nobody smiled. Nobody casually spoke. Every employee inside the lower levels behaved with unsettling precision, as if even normal conversation was carefully regulated.
Ethan Vale walked beside Mira Solis through the final checkpoint while the memory of the woman on the television screen continued replaying inside his mind. Neither of them had mentioned the reflection behind him afterward. Somehow speaking about it out loud felt dangerous.
The other participants already waited inside the evaluation chamber when they arrived. Nine chairs formed a semicircle beneath bright medical lighting while multiple heart-monitor screens flickered softly against the walls nearby. Daniel Cross looked irritated more than frightened, bouncing one leg impatiently while drinking his fourth energy drink of the morning. Leah Hart appeared worse. Her hands trembled slightly around a cup of coffee, and the dark circles beneath her eyes had deepened noticeably despite only one sleepless night passing.
At the center of the room stood Dr. Evelyn Mercer watching them with the same unreadable calm expression she always carried.
“Sleep deprivation symptoms may begin earlier than expected in certain individuals,” she explained smoothly while medical staff attached biometric sensors to each participant’s wrists and necks. “Mild paranoia, emotional instability, auditory distortion, and visual irregularities are all considered normal responses during the experiment.”
Daniel let out a dry laugh immediately. “Seeing creepy women on TVs counts as normal too?”
The room became quiet.
Dr. Mercer’s expression didn’t change at all.
“Did you experience visual interference last night, Mr. Cross?”
Daniel hesitated.
Only briefly.
“Maybe.”
The doctor made a note on her tablet.
No surprise. No concern. Just documentation.
That bothered Ethan almost more than denial would have.
The evaluations began with simple cognitive exercises at first. Memory tests. Pattern recognition. Reflex response timing. Most participants performed reasonably well despite exhaustion beginning to settle into the group already. But after nearly forty minutes, the tests slowly shifted into stranger territory.
Participants were shown photographs for only fractions of a second before being asked to describe what they saw.
A house.
A child.
A hallway.
A dead bird.
A woman standing beside a hospital bed.
Then suddenly—
the woman from the television appeared on Ethan’s screen.
Same white gown.
Same black hair.
Standing inside a dark hallway facing directly toward the camera.
Ethan froze slightly.
The image disappeared almost immediately afterward.
Dr. Mercer noticed his hesitation. “Describe what you saw.”
Ethan looked toward her carefully. “A woman.”
“What kind of woman?”
“She looked sick.”
“Did you recognize her?”
The question came too quickly.
Too specifically.
Ethan frowned. “Should I?”
For the first time since entering the facility, something shifted subtly across Dr. Mercer’s face.
Not fear.
Concern.
Then it vanished again.
“Interesting,” she murmured softly while entering another note into the tablet.
The evaluations continued for another hour before the participants were finally dismissed for a mandatory meal break inside the common dining area. By then the atmosphere between everyone had noticeably changed. The first night already stripped away most of the casual friendliness from the van ride. People looked tired now. Uneasy. More suspicious of both the facility and one another.
Because nobody could tell whether the strange experiences came from sleep deprivation…
or from Somna Labs itself.
Ethan sat beside Mira near the back corner of the dining hall while the others spoke quietly among themselves across nearby tables.
“You noticed it too, right?” Mira asked under her breath.
“The picture?”
She nodded slowly.
“She wanted to know if we recognized the woman.”
Ethan pushed untouched food around his tray distractedly. “Maybe she’s part of the experiment.”
“Then why pretend otherwise?”
Good question.
Before Ethan could answer, a loud metallic crash suddenly echoed from somewhere deeper inside the facility.
Every participant immediately looked up.
The noise sounded distant but violent, followed by muffled shouting behind sealed doors somewhere beyond the dining hall.
Then silence returned.
Too quickly.
Dr. Mercer entered the room less than thirty seconds later accompanied by two security personnel.
“Minor equipment malfunction,” she announced calmly. “Please continue your meals.”
Nobody believed her.
Especially after Leah quietly whispered:
“That sounded like screaming.”
No one argued.
The tension inside the dining hall thickened after that. Conversations died quickly while participants exchanged increasingly nervous glances toward the facility doors around them. Ethan noticed several staff members moving more urgently through nearby corridors now, speaking quietly into radios while trying not to attract attention.
Something had gone wrong downstairs.
Then Ethan noticed something worse.
There were only eight participants sitting in the dining hall now.
His stomach tightened instantly.
He looked around again carefully.
Eight.
Not nine.
Daniel noticed too.
“Wait,” he muttered while scanning the room. “Where’s the older guy?”
Silence spread immediately.
Nobody answered because nobody remembered his name at first.
The realization itself felt disturbing.
There had definitely been a middle-aged participant during orientation. Ethan remembered speaking briefly with him inside the transport van.
So why couldn’t anybody remember what he looked like clearly now?
Leah slowly lowered her fork onto the tray. “I thought he was in medical testing.”
Mira frowned. “No, he was sitting beside Daniel earlier.”
Daniel’s expression darkened. “No he wasn’t.”
A cold uneasiness spread across the table.
Because suddenly none of their memories aligned anymore.
Then Dr. Mercer spoke from across the room without looking up from her tablet.
“There are currently nine participants in the study.”
Everyone turned toward her immediately.
Eight people sat inside the dining hall.
But Dr. Mercer repeated calmly:
“Nine participants.”
And somehow—
her certainty sounded more frightening than confusion would have.