Beep.

Swish.

Beep.

Swish.

The steady and constant rhythm measured and shown on a monitor screen filled the dark room. Accompanied by the sound of a rustling lab coat and the occasional scratch of a pencil on paper, illuminated only by a tiny motion-detecting light. New notes filled the sheet as the doctor observed the sleeping figure's vitals, running several tests in the process.

It was quiet.

Peaceful.

Overwhelming.

But the doctor was used to this environment. Of course, the number of colleagues they used to have was far greater than the present moment, their friends even fewer, nearly to the point where they lacked existence. Yet, to be in charge of such a person, it was far more rewarding, just as it was equally dangerous. Friends were a liability when it came to this room, this patient.

It had taken many years to get this building back to the state it was in previously. After the massive fire destroyed most of the interior, including the most important documents, it was a monumental task led by a powerful man to supply manpower in a world lacking such things.

The world had changed long ago.

Disaster after disaster struck hard. Devastating earthquakes with the resulting tsunamis taking out entire countries and islands, tornados that ripped the land, and hurricanes that crumbled everything in its path. And that was only the beginning. Those in charge of the countries that survived felt threatened by one another. War was inevitable.

It was a war waged not through the hands of man, but ended irrevocably by technology.

And that was what destroyed the rest of the world. A man-made, fear-fueled battle that turned cities into rubble, demolished those green and luscious forests…

Took life, again and again.

Fires swept across the planet, and then, as if mother nature was getting revenge for the devastation on her heart, an arctic sweep, freezing what remained.

A genius, a savior, right as the end of humanity seemed to draw near, made a virtual world with the last of advanced technology that survived, using the help of artificial intelligence.

And it brought hope when crops could be brought in from this other world. Everyone called it a miracle. It seemed to fit that former billionaires and politicians, filled with an eager greediness, took advantage of that so-called miracle created by AI Fallacy.

The world, named Fallacy in honor of the intelligence that made it, was not so simple. Rules were not the same in this new land, and yet, mortality remained an ever constant.

If you died in the world of Fallacy, you died for real.

A knock sounded on the lone door to the room. The doctor glanced at their watch, telling them it was just fifteen minutes before they needed to wake up the figure in the bed and get them into the sleeping pod that would lead their mind into Fallacy. Looking away from the monitor to see who stood on the other side of the window, they failed to see any sudden changes that weren’t accompanied by the same consistent sounds. A small jump, something they'd have noticed quickly in that straight line, went unnoticed.

Slipping the clipboard back in its slot, leaving the room without a backwards glance, they prepared themselves to greet someone of higher status than themselves in this facility. Bright lights cast shadows on the floor as they walked out to welcome the one calling for their attention. The door closed behind them, but without the tell-tale click.

Soundlessly, it remained open the slightest bit, allowing sound entrance into the ears of the remaining person in the room.

“The project is to be shut down.”

The words that were spoken alarmed the doctor, so much so, that they’d likely have fumbled their clipboard, had they been still holding onto it.

“Shut down?! Why?”

For a long moment, it was silent. And then came the generalized reason, lacking specificity, but remaining unbreakable as it was. The doctor, upon hearing the words, sighed heavily.

“Something was uncovered. Something they shouldn’t have gone near.”

The shadows on the floor clearly showed the shaking head of the dejected doctor. It was like they were getting demoted. After spending consecutive months inside Fallacy, they’d gained so much, enough to be promoted to such a high level, all based on their skills alone.

Fallacy rewarded those who worked hard, even more so for their strength and resilience, in multiple ways.

If you leveled up, you could gain new skills, ones that translated over into the other world, the one we all came from, the place where our body always remained. Entering Fallacy took equipment that was now widely available. Pods were everywhere, allowing anyone to enter into the world. In the little cities, next to sporting arenas, were buildings full of pods available to rent.

Having chosen their focus upon entering Fallacy years ago, the doctor had leveled up to the max on their skills in medicine. Everything from administering treatments to noticing sickness, came easily. With one touch, they could sense if someone had cancer, a tumor, or just a common cold. They could see procedures in their mind. They could list out information on diseases like there was a textbook in their head.

When they lifted their head again, they gestured toward the dark room behind them.

“And them?”

It was a reasonable question. And, much more importantly, a necessary one. It would decide whether the doctor would be transferred, employed to a different wing yet again, or if they would remain, as they had been for several months now, deeply connected to the presence and results of the person lying still on that bed. They knew, after these months, what the slightest fluctuation meant, and could practically guess the responses of the patient when they were asked questions.

But they didn't know why exactly this person had such a high priority, not when the individual in question seemed so ordinary and helpless when they ate, spoke, and breathed. Of course, things were different once they entered the pod, but they couldn't even enter such a thing on their own.

“Orders have been given,” the higher-ranked figure stated emotionlessly. “Termination. All except this one.”

It was as if they weren’t interested, didn’t care a bit as to what their words meant. Like termination was just the act of leaving a building and walking away… as if he hadn’t just said that everyone but one member of an elite squad was scheduled to die in the next 24 hours.

Yet again, the clipboard was lucky to not be in the arms of the stunned doctor, lest it be mishandled and dropped carelessly onto the concrete floor repeatedly.

“Terminated?!” They nearly shouted their response. “Do you mean to say…?”

“The Ghosts have become a liability through their very existence. Once their whereabouts are confirmed, they will be executed.”

“We’d… we’d be losing great assets in doing this, General.”

The General merely scoffed and murderously stared down the doctor. One step forward had one standing tall and the other cowardly ducking their head, conceding.

“The President himself gave this order. You will follow it.” They continued slowly, “As you’re the one monitoring all of their vitals, you will give the confirmation once their lives cease to exist.”

“Yes, sir,” the doctor muttered sadly. Though he hadn’t met them personally, he’d seen their lists of skills they could do, had seen heartrates far below the normal in stressful situations, had watched their breaths and steps for as long as they’d been monitoring the special One.

It was long enough to grow a bit attached to the strength they seemed to have, even through the screens. All it took was a quick glance to the side of the room, to see the half-dozen monitors with heartbeats and breaths, with step counters and skill levels, most of them already inside Fallacy for the scheduled meet-up.

“It’s just… you know how skilled they are… Quick. Efficient. Smart.”

When the General didn’t respond, the doctor hesitantly continued to speak, knowing it might not be their place.

“Will they get a new team?”

The General stared at the one everyone called Doc. Despite be in charge of the health of their most elite team, the Ghosts, they themselves were a nobody, an erased existence with nothing left but their job. In that way, they were too much like the team they watched with such care.

Doc’s skill was unrivaled. But, because there couldn’t be many people entering and exiting this place, Doc was given orders to send to the team through a messaging system. Though they didn’t know what most of the results meant in the reality of the worlds, they knew enough.

“Locations, Doc. The Ghosts are to be buried without resistance.”

“Yes, sir.”

It meant that he couldn’t tell them things were being disbanded. Stay quiet and pretend nothing is wrong. They’ll either be destroyed without care in the artificial world or be killed silently while vulnerably asleep in their pods.

At the silence that told volumes, the Doc hesitated.

“What now?”

“What do you want me to say to…”

They unwittingly glanced toward the door leading to the dark room.

“Tell them they got reassigned. Or just say nothing.”

“Yes, sir.”

The General nodded to the door.

“You’ll need to come with me to look at the tracker data.  And, don’t let them leave that room.”

Knowing exactly what that meant, Doc went back into the dark quiet room, hands collecting the handles of a mildly heavy duffel bag with two insulated cases laid carefully inside. With one last glance at the monitor, they noted that the patient was sound asleep, more peaceful than they were in all of their waking hours. They left, the door clicking shut, the lock sliding into place. As the light in the other room vanished, plunging the whole area into an undeniable darkness, the fingers on a hand slowly clenched into a tight trembling fist.

As quick as possible, they slid to the edge of the bed, unplugging their finger monitor before taking it off, as not to alert anyone.

Their hand and arm stretched as far as possible as they leaned, barely catching the handle of the crutch set just too far from the bed, before tucking it under their armpit as they balanced carefully. Moving over to the computer, a hand took hold of the old-style mouse that the Doc preferred, and opened a new window. A secret code they weren't supposed to know was typed in carefully. Alas, after all the years of being monitored, getting quite skilled at noticing things was just as simple as breathing deeply and consistently.

A pinky finger tapping the enter key led to a different click.

It wasn’t an exit, but they made their way over to the small door regardless.

To them, it was necessary.

And they would be caught.

It was only a matter of when.