Hollowed

Chapter One - Hello

Hello, welcome to The Sanctuary, Minn Earthborn, our upload is complete. Please allow several minutes to pass before attempting to stand up.

Minn slowly opens her eyes, her consciousness pulled from the depths of unconsciousness by the artificial voice. She isn't sure if it is addressing her or someone else, but its presence is undeniable.

"Did someone say something?" she asks groggily, her voice filled with confusion. She attempts to raise her arms to rub her eyes, but they feel weighted and stiff, resisting her commands.

Yes, hello. Welcome to The Sanctuary, Minn Earthborn, our upload is complete. Please allow several minutes to pass before attempting to stand up.

"What? Where am I?" Minn asks, her gaze slowly sweeping across her unfamiliar surroundings. She finds herself in a spacious bedroom with grey walls, where sunlight filters through two large windows adorned with thick, white curtains. Though the place feels vaguely familiar, she can't quite place it.

We are on Omega Six. We are in The Sanctuary.

"What the hell is going on?" Minn disregards the voice's response and attempts to push herself up, her muscles feeling slightly more at ease now. She manages to sit up, her head still heavy, and swings her legs over the side of the bed. Glancing down, she notices that she's dressed in a blue jumpsuit, causing a slight cringe as she wonders what happened to her own clothes and what she was wearing before being brought here. Testing her legs, she finds them functional but still weak and stiff. With cautious determination, she places her feet on the floor, ready to add her weight, only to have her legs give way, and she slides down the side of the bed onto the floor.

We've been uploaded into Phase One and completed our first regeneration treatment. It's important to allow it to take effect before attempting to stand. Our muscles haven't been used for quite some time.

Minn struggles once again to lift herself up but collapses back onto the floor. Her mind races, trying to recall any details from the night before that might explain her current predicament. Yet, her memories remain frustratingly elusive.

We don't have full access to our memories, for now. There are certain phases we must pass before we are granted access.

Minn says nothing in response, realizing that the voice can somehow perceive her thoughts. "Who are you?" she silently questions, her eyes darting around the room. It appears pleasant enough, but an unexplainable sense of coldness and isolation pervades the atmosphere. 

I am Atlas, our implanted comm-link.

"Atlas?" Minn repeats the name, her brows furrowing in bewilderment. How does she know that name? Her mind draws a blank. She struggles once more, managing to prop herself up into an upright sitting position, supported by the bed behind her. Her arms throb, and her head feels detached from her body, floating in an ethereal realm. "What did you give me? Drugs?"

Yes, some medication was administered during the regeneration treatment. We must take it slow. Focus on our breathing, and in a few moments, we can try and get back on the bed.

Minn takes in a deep breath, her gaze wandering around the room once more. A lamp, a nightstand, a dresser — it all appears ordinary. "Am I dreaming?" she mutters to herself, only to be startled as Atlas responds.

Negative. Our brain is functioning at 84%. Heart rate is 74 beats per minute. We are very much awake.

Annoyed, Minn remains uncertain about whether to trust the voice. Engaging in a conversation with an entity inside her head seems either insane or the result of potent drugs. She hopes it's the latter. Even though her memories elude her, she realizes she'd rather not be considered crazy.

"Where is your voice coming from? And stop saying 'We'!" she says aloud, momentarily forgetting that speaking isn't necessary.

Part of our implant has been connected directly to our cochlea.

"Implant?" Minn repeats, her confusion deepening. 

Yes. I am Atlas, our implanted comm-link. I am also embedded in our brain stem, with full access to our cerebrum.

"Our what?" Minn rubs her forehead vigorously, then instinctively shoves a finger into each ear, squeezing her eyes shut. She envisions tiny electronic devices nestled inside her skull, imagining flashing particles of light filling the darkness. Perhaps she'll wake up from this disconcerting dream?

Try to remain calm as we move into Phase Two.

"Phase Two? What's Phase Two?" Minn groans.

Phase Two is defined by your awareness of me. Some people find my programming too invasive, but we are now conversing.

"You think!?" Minn mutters, finding the situation incredibly bizarre. The concept of The Sanctuary on Omega Six flickers briefly in her memory, but it remains detached from any real meaning. Is this place her home? Who implanted this mysterious device in her head? None of it makes sense. Her thoughts jumble together, attempting to grasp onto any fragment of her past, but it slips through her fingers. Suddenly, she finds it difficult to catch her breath.

Our heart rate has jumped to 95 bpm. Breath deeply, through the nose and out the mouth. We may be experiencing anxiety. It will pass, but we need to breathe, Minn Earthborn. Breathe deeply...

Atlas's voice becomes muffled and distant as Minn succumbs to panic. It engulfs her, overwhelming her ability to focus, and a startling realization consumes her: she has been kidnapped.

We now appear to be going into shock, Minn Earthborn. I have alerted Medical, they will be here momentarily.

The voice becomes faint, distant. Minn feels herself floating out of her body once again, no longer gasping for air but rather looking down upon someone else propped against a bed. The figure clutches their throat, shoulders jerking with each strained gulp. Minn doesn't want to watch. That's not her.

Amidst the chaos, she catches the distant sound of approaching footsteps. The medics arrive swiftly, moving with an almost ethereal grace. Clad in hazmat suits, their faces concealed by shaded coverings, and with what appears to be oxygen tanks strapped to their backs, they kneel beside her. Assessing her vital signs, they administer a needle into her arm, its contents unknown. A mask is then placed against her face, releasing cool, stale air that brushes against her cheeks. Gradually, a sense of grounding settles upon her, and she feels herself sinking back toward the realm of the present.

She blinks, finding herself anchored once more. The weight of her body grounds her, reminding her of her physical presence. The medics gently lift her back onto the bed, their actions deliberate and efficient.

Melatonin and cortisol have been adjusted to optimize our sleep cycle. We need rest, Minn Earthborn. I will wake us again at sixteen hundred, and we will continue. We've ranked below average today. Perhaps tomorrow we can improve our rank.