I Am the Only Scientist Left in Our Mars Lab. It is Horrifying Here.

Hello and welcome back to Sleepy Pasta. I know many of you love to listen to my stories while doing your daily life chores or even to fall asleep to these stories. So before you get carried away, please leave a comment telling me where you are watching from and don't forget to follow the show.

It helps me tremendously. I checked the pressure seals for the third time that morning. Got to stay on top of these things when you're living in a bubble under the Martian surface. One leak and we'd all be in trouble. Big trouble.

I ran my hand along the metal frame of the airlock, feeling for any irregularities. Derek, all systems are reading normal. Catherine said from her monitoring station. She didn't look up from her screen, they just kept tapping away at the keyboard. Catherine was always like that.

Efficient, focused. Best research assistant I'd had in the five years I've been heading the cryogenics department. Thanks. Just doing a manual check to be sure. I moved to the next section of ceiling.

The sensors were a little off yesterday. I recalibrated them last night. They're accurate now. I nodded, though she wasn't looking my way. Good.

Still can't be too careful. 200 meters underground. The facility had been my home for almost three years now. The Martian Underground Research Facility. Murph, as we called it, wasn't exactly spacious, but it had everything we needed.

Labs, living quarters, common areas, and most importantly, it had my cryogenics lab where I was finally making real progress. I finished checking the last seal and made a note on my tablet. Everything looked good. I was about to head back to the lab when the door to the monitoring room burst open. Jacob Curtis stood there, breathing hard like he'd run the whole way from the upper levels.

His normally composed face looked rattled, eyes wide. Derek, we've got a situation. He said, straightening his lab coat. Phillips called an emergency meeting 5 minutes ago. You didn't answer.

Your calm. I padded my pocket empty, left it in the lab. What's going on? Jacob stepped closer, lowering his voice. Even though it was just the three of us in the room.

There's some kind of cosmic anomaly headed our way. They detected it about an hour ago from the surface observatory. What kind of anomaly? Catherine asked, finally looking up from her station. They're not sure exactly.

Some kind of energy surge? Philip says it's unlike anything they've seen before. Jacob checked his watch. He's ordered a full evacuation. The shuttles are being prepped right now.

My stomach dropped. Evacuation. That's a bit extreme, isn't it? We've dealt with solar flares before. This isn't a solar flare, Jacob said, shaking his head.

Whatever it is, it's got Philip spooked, and you know he doesn't spook easily. He was right about that. Barry Phillips had been running Mars operations for over a decade. The man had faced dust storms, equipment failures, even that oxygen recycler crisis two years ago. All without breaking a sweat.

How long do we have? I asked. The first shuttle leaves in 30 minutes, the last one in two hours. Phillips wants everyone out before this thing hits, whatever it is. I thought about my lab, about the experiments I've been running for the past 18 months.

The cryogenic preservation techniques I've been developing weren't just important, they were potentially revolutionary. If we could perfect human tissue preservation at the cellular level, long distance space travel would become viable. Not to mention the medical applications back on Earth. I need to secure my lab first, I said. The cryogenic samples can't just be abandoned.

Jacob frowned. Phillips said to drop everything, grab personal items only. My research isn't a personal item, Jacob. It's three years of work. If those samples thaw or get contaminated, we lose everything.

Catherine stood up from her station. He's right, Jacob, the cryogenic research is classified as priority one. There are protocols for emergency preservation. Jacob hesitated, looking between us. Phillips isn't going to like this.

Tell him I'll be on the last shuttle. I said, already moving toward the door. I just need to secure the lab properly. Two hours is plenty of time, Derek. I'm not leaving without securing those samples, Jacob, they're too important.

He sighed, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. Fine, I'll tell Phillips your following procedure and will be on the last shuttle, but don't cut it close, OK? This thing has everyone on edge. I won't. Thanks, Jacob.

He nodded and headed out, presumably to join the evacuation preparations. I turned to Catherine. You should go with the first group. No sense in both of us staying. She crossed her arms.

You'll need help with the preservation protocols. It's a two person job if we want to do it right, Catherine. I'm staying Doctor Farley, at least until we get the sample secured. I knew that tone. There was no arguing with Catherine when she'd made-up her mind, and she was right.

The shutdown procedures would go faster with two of us. All right, let's get to it then. We hurried to the lab, passing other staff members who were gathering their things. The facility had a strange energy. Not quite panic, but definitely urgency.

People moved quickly, spoke in hushed tones. Nobody wanted to be the last one out. My lab was exactly as I'd left it earlier that morning. The cryogenic chambers hummed steadily, maintaining the precise temperatures needed for my experiments. Five years of research.

The last three spent here on Mars, away from distractions, away from Earth's regulations. I couldn't just leave it. Let's start with the primary samples. I said, entering my access code on the main terminal. We need to transfer them to the portable units.

Catherine nodded, already pulling the specialized containers from the storage cabinet. What about your research data? I'll download everything to the secure drives, then wipe the local systems. We worked methodically, moving through the preservation protocols we'd practice during emergency drills. The portable cryogenic units were designed for exactly this kind of situation. self-contained, battery powered, with enough coolant to maintain temperatures for up to 72 hours.

As we worked, I kept glancing at the time. One hour passed. We were making good progress, but still had the most delicate samples to transfer. That's when the facility alarm started blaring. The sound pierced through the lab, loud and insistent.

Red warning lights began flashing in the corridors outside. That's the emergency evacuation alarm, Catherine said, looking up from the sample she was transferring. Before I could respond, Phillips's voice came over the intercom, tense and commanding. Attention all Murph personnel, this is Director Phillips. The cosmic anomaly has accelerated and will reach us within the hour.

All remaining staff must report to the shuttle Bay immediately. This is not a drill. Repeat. All personnel must evacuate now. Catherine looked at me, her calm demeanor finally showing cracks.

Derek, we need to go. I looked around at the lab. We'd secured maybe 70% of the samples. The most critical ones were safe, but there was still so much left. You go, I said.

Take what we've preserved so far. I need another 20 minutes to finish the essential protocols, the director said immediately. She argued the lab needs proper shutdown. Catherine, you know that if we just leave everything running, there could be catastrophic failures, explosive decompression, contamination. I shook my head.

I can't risk it, not after everything we've put into this research. She hesitated, clearly torn between following orders and helping me finish. Catherine, please take the samples we've secured. Make sure they get on that shuttle. I'll be right behind you.

After a moment, she nodded. 20 minutes, Derek. Not a minute more, I promise. Now go. She gathered the portable units we'd already prepared and headed for the door.

At the threshold, she paused and looked back. Be careful, always am. Once she was gone, I worked faster, securing the remaining critical samples and initiating the lab shutdown sequences. The alarms continued blaring, making it hard to concentrate. Twice more Phillips's voice came over the intercom, each announcement more urgent than the last.

I was just finishing the final shutdown sequence when his voice came through again, now with undisguised anger. Doctor Farley, this is Director Phillips. The final shuttle is preparing for departure. You have 5 minutes to report to the shuttle Bay. That's an order.

I hit the intercom button on the wall. Director, I'm securing critical research assets as per protocol 7. The lab requires proper shutdown procedures. Damn the protocols, Derek. This is a direct order.

Get to the shuttle now. 5 more minutes, Sir. The consequences of improper shutdown could be catastrophic. 4 minutes, Doctor, not a second more. I returned to the terminal, fingers flying over the keyboard.

4 minutes wasn't enough, but it would have to do. I initiated the accelerated shutdown sequence, watching as systems began powering down 1 by 1. Three minutes. 2 minutes. I grabbed my tablet and the final portable sample unit.

Everything else would have to stay one minute. I sealed the lab and ran for the corridor that led to the shuttle Bay. The facility felt eerily empty now, my footsteps echoing off the walls as I sprinted through the usually busy hallways. I reached the observation room that overlooked the shuttle Bay just in time to see the final shuttle's engines firing up.

Through the thick glass window, I watched as the last transport vessel lifted off from the pad, it's thrusters glowing bright against the Martian landscape, visible through the massive Bay doors. I was too late. The shuttle rose higher than angled toward the surface exit. In less than a minute it had disappeared from view, leaving the Bay empty and silent.

I stood there, staring at the empty launchpad. The evacuation alarms had stopped, leaving an eerie quiet broken only by the hum of the facility's essential systems. I was completely alone, 200 meters beneath the surface of Mars. I tried the communication system, but got no response. Either they were out of range already, or communications had been affected by whatever cosmic anomaly had triggered the evacuation.

Either way, I was on my own until they could send someone back for me. If they could send someone back. The next few hours were strange. I returned to my quarters, trying to process what had happened. I checked the facility systems.

Life support was functioning normally. Power levels were stable. Whatever this anomaly was, it hadn't affected the basic operations yet. I had air, water, and enough stored food to last for months if necessary. I was just starting to think I might have overreacted by staying behind when it happened.

About 3 hours after the last shuttle left, the lights throughout the facility flickered once, twice, then stabilized. I felt a strange pressure building in my ears, like when a shuttle changes altitude too quickly. Then came a surge of something I can't really describe it like a wave of energy passing through the facility through me.

The sensation lasted only seconds. Then everything returned to normal, almost normal. The light seemed slightly dimmer, and there was a subtle vibration I could feel through the floor, like machinery operating at a frequency just beyond hearing. Electromagnetic interference. I said aloud, trying to reassure myself.

Just the anomaly passing through. I checked the systems again. Everything read normal, but something felt off. I kept the tablet with me as I walked the corridors, looking for any signs of damage. The facility was designed to withstand almost anything Mars could throw at it.

Dust storms, temperature extremes, even moderate seismic activity. Cosmic anomalies. That wasn't in the design specifications. I was passing the hydroponic section when I saw it. A shadow just at the edge of my vision, something moving in the darkened lab.

I turned quickly, but there was nothing there. Just rows of plants under grow lights, undisturbed. Get it together, Derek, I muttered to myself. You're alone and on edge, that's all. But as I continued my inspection, the feeling of being watched grew stronger.

Twice more, I caught glimpses of movement in my peripheral vision, only to find empty rooms. When I turned to look. The air felt different somehow. Charged like before a lightning storm on Earth. I tried to focus on the logical explanations.

Stress, isolation, the psychological effects of being suddenly alone in a facility designed for dozens of people. My mind was just filling in the gaps, creating movement where there was none. But deep down, I knew something wasn't right. Whatever had caused Phillips to order an emergency evacuation, whatever cosmic anomaly had passed through it had changed something in the facility.

Or maybe it had brought something with it. I stood in the middle of the main corridor, listening to the hum of the air recyclers and the subtle vibration that hadn't been there before. For the first time since the shuttles left, I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. I wasn't alone, after all.

I woke up to a sound. It was faint, the shuffle of feet in the corridor outside my quarters. I lay still, straining to hear. There it was again. Definitely footsteps.

Hello. I called out. No answer. I checked the time on my tablet. 3:17 AM, Mars Standard Time.

Everyone was gone. I'd watch the last shuttle leave unless someone had stayed behind without my knowledge. I was alone in this facility. I got up and grabbed my flashlight. The footsteps continued, slow and deliberate.

They didn't sound like they were coming from the ventilation system or some mechanical malfunction. They sounded like someone walking. I pressed the door panel and it slid open with a soft hiss. The corridor was empty, lit only by the dim emergency lighting that ran along the floor. The footsteps had stopped.

Is anyone there? I tried again. My voice echoed down the empty hallway. Nothing but silence came back. I stepped out and looked both ways.

The corridor stretched empty in both directions, but the air felt different, charged somehow, like the feeling before a lightning storm back on Earth. The hairs on my arm stood up. I walked a few steps in the direction I'd heard the footsteps. The vibration I'd noticed earlier seemed stronger here, a subtle tremor coming up through the floor.

I placed my palm against the wall. It hummed faintly beneath my hand. This is Doctor Derek Farley, I announced to the empty hallway. If there's someone here, please identify yourself. Nothing.

I checked each adjoining room. Supply closet, maintenance access, small conference room. All empty. After 20 minutes of searching and finding nothing, I returned to my quarters. I didn't sleep much after that.

The next morning, I headed straight to my lab. I needed to check on the remaining samples and maybe run some diagnostics on the facility systems. The vibration was still present, a constant, subtle tremor that seemed to have become the new normal. I punched in my access code and the lab door slid open.

I stopped in the doorway, staring. Something was wrong. The lab was different. My lab was always organized. Always.

I kept everything in its precise place. Equipment arranged by function, samples stored according to protocol, data tablets aligned at perfect right angles. Catherine used to tease me about it. Now everything was slightly off. The microscope had been moved 6 inches to the left.

Sample containers were rearranged on their shelf. My chair was pulled out and turned at an angle I would never leave it in. I stepped inside, slowly scanning the room. Nothing was damaged or missing, just moved like someone had been examining my equipment and hadn't bothered to put things back exactly where they found them.

I went to the security terminal and pulled up the overnight footage. Static filled the screen. I tried different time stamps, different cameras, all static. System malfunction, I muttered. But even as I said it, I didn't believe it.

The security system had redundancies. For all cameras to fail simultaneously was highly improbable. I spent the next hour meticulously returning everything to its proper place, checking each piece of equipment and sample. Nothing appeared to be damaged, just disturbed. While I worked, I recorded a status report for Mission Control.

I've been sending them daily since being left behind, though I hadn't received any responses yet. The communications delay between Mars and Earth was significant, but I should have heard something by now. Day 2 post evacuation, I said into the recorder facility systems functioning within normal parameters despite some anomalies. I paused, unsure how much to say.

Experiencing minor power fluctuations and possible system glitches. Security cameras malfunctioning. Will continue diagnostics. I stopped recording. I hadn't mentioned the footsteps or the rearranged lab.

It sounded too much like I was losing my mind, and I couldn't risk Mission Control thinking I was having a psychological breakdown. They might delay sending a retrieval team. I sent the fragmented report and continued my inspection of the lab. By midday, I'd convinced myself that the power surge from the cosmic anomaly had caused both the security system failure and perhaps some kind of mechanical malfunction that had vibrated items out of place.

It wasn't a very convincing explanation, but it was better than the alternative. That evening I heated a meal in the commissary microwave. Standard freeze dried pasta with synthetic protein. Not exactly gourmet, but it would keep me alive. The lights in the commissary seemed dimmer than usual, casting long shadows across the empty tables.

I watched the container rotate in the microwave, my mind wandering to Catherine and the others. Had they made it safely to the orbital station? Why hadn't I received any communications? The facility lights dimmed dramatically, dropping to about half their normal brightness. The microwave continued humming.

I looked at the reflection in the microwave door and froze. Someone was standing behind me. My heart pounded against my ribs. Slowly, I turned around. He stood about 10 feet away, hands in his pockets, watching me with a familiar half smile.

Hello, Derek, he said. It was Charles, my brother, my twin, my dead twin. You're not real, I said immediately. You can't be real, Charles. Or whatever looked like.

Charles tilted his head slightly. Why not? Because I died 10 years ago? Or because you're the only human left on Mars? He looked exactly like I remembered him.

Same face, our face, but with longer hair and the small scar above his left eyebrow from when we were 12. He was wearing hiking clothes, the same outfit he'd worn the last time I saw him alive. You're a hallucination, I said firmly. Stress, isolation and sleep deprivation. Textbook psychological response.

Charles walked closer, his footsteps making the same sound I'd heard last night. Always the scientist, aren't you? Always the rational 1? He stopped at the table nearest me. That's why you didn't come with me that weekend.

Too much important work to do. I felt sick. Don't I wonder sometimes? He continued, running his fingers along the table's edge. If you'd been there, would I still have fallen?

Would you have seen the loose anchor point I missed? Would you have saved me, brother? Charles asked, his voice soft but cutting. I backed away until I hit the counter. The microwave beeped behind me, but I barely heard it.

You're not real, I repeated. Charles died on that mountain. I identified his body. The memory flashed through my mind. The morgue.

The sheep pulled back my own face, staring up at me, still and cold. Did I? He smiled sadly. Then what am IA? Hallucination.

A projection of my guilt. Or I hesitated, my scientists mind racing through possibilities. The anomaly, it did something to the facility. Maybe it's affecting my perception, or maybe it's manifesting things somehow. Charles laughed.

It was his laugh, exactly as I remembered it. Always looking for the rational explanation. That's your problem, Derek. Some things don't have rational explanations. He took another step toward me.

I could see the texture of his hiking jacket, the way the light caught in his hair. He looked solid, real. Don't come any closer, I warned. Why? Afraid of what you might feel if you touch me?

Afraid I might be real after all. I pushed past him and ran. I didn't stop until I reached my quarters, locking the door behind me. My hands shook as I pulled out my medical kit. I took a blood sample from my finger and ran it through the portable analyzer.

If I was hallucinating, there had to be a physical cause. A toxin, a virus, something in the air system. The results came back normal, all vitals within expected parameters. I sat on my bed, staring at the analyzer. What was happening to me?

Was I cracking under the pressure of isolation, or had something truly come through with that anomaly? I didn't sleep that night. How could I? Every Creek of the facility, every hum of the ventilation system made me tense. Twice I heard what sounded like whispering outside my door.

Once, I could have sworn I heard laughter, Charles's laughter, coming from somewhere deep in the facility. I sat with my back against the wall, tablet in hand, making notes of every strange occurrence. If I treated this like a scientific observation, maybe I could maintain my sanity. Maybe I could figure out what was happening.

But as the hours ticked by and the strange noises continued, footsteps, whispers, things being moved in distant rooms, I found myself questioning everything. My observations, my memories, my mind. What had that anomaly really brought to Mars? Was it just affecting me, or had it somehow changed the very nature of reality in this facility?

And how long could I last here, alone with whatever this was, before I truly lost my grip on sanity? 3 days. That's how long I've been dealing with whatever was happening in the facility. 3 days of seeing my dead brother around every corner. Three days of questioning my own sanity.

I was in the lab trying to analyze a tissue sample, something concrete to focus on, when I felt the temperature drop. I didn't need to turn around. I knew he was there. You going to ignore me all day? Eli?

Charles's voice, that nickname nobody else used. I kept my eyes on the microscope. You're not real. That's getting old. I heard him move around the lab.

Remember when we built that volcano for Mrs. Henderson's class? You insisted on using real thermite for the eruption? My hand froze over the slide. That was 6th grade.

We'd gotten in serious trouble when our volcano nearly set fire to the classroom. Only you would remember the chemical formula, but forget that thermite burns at over 4000°. He continued. I finally turned around. He looked exactly like the last time I saw him.

Hiking clothes, that stupid red bandana he always wore, his face, my face, but not mine. How do you know about that? I asked. He smiled. Because I'm Charles, your brother, the one you let die.

I turned back to my work. You're a hallucination, a side effect of isolation or something. The anomaly did to me. The lights flickered. My microscope powered down suddenly, then back on with a surge that blew the bulb.

I jumped back. Charles laughed. Touch the equipment you've got. I spent the rest of that day documenting every appearance, every power fluctuation, every impossible thing. He knew.

I tried to be scientific about it, methodical, like if I could just categorize it all, I could explain it away. The next morning I woke to find all my carefully arranged lab samples had been reorganized by color instead of type. The digital labels had been changed too, Not erased or damaged, but meticulously relabeled with inside jokes from our childhood.

I tried the communications terminal again. Static. I've been trying to reach Earth every few hours, but the signal kept degrading. Sometimes I'd get fragments, broken words, garbled transmissions, but nothing clear enough to understand. They can't hear you, Charles said suddenly, sitting at the terminal next to me.

It's just us now. Like old times. I ignored him and ran a diagnostic on the communication system. Everything showed green, but when I tried to transmit, the power dipped and the message failed. Remember when we built that tree house and ran the intercom system to the house?

Charles asked. Dad was so mad when we spliced into the home phone line. I did remember. We were 9. Charles had read about intercoms in a book and became obsessed with building our own.

We got grounded for a week. Stop it, I said. Stop what? Remembering. He leaned closer.

That's the problem, isn't it? You spent 10 years trying to forget me. I walked out, heading for the hydroponic section. Work. Focus on work.

But he was already there when I arrived, examining the tomato plants. You always hated gardening, he said. Mom could never get you to help with the vegetables. That was my job. He was right, but Charles had loved working in the garden with our mother.

I preferred staying inside with books and experiments. The automated watering system suddenly activated, spraying water everywhere except where Charles was standing. I got soaked while he remained perfectly dry. See, he said, even the facility knows I'm here. By the 5th day, I was exhausted.

The apparition, Charles, whatever it was, had been relentless. Sometimes just watching silently from corners, sometimes talking for hours about memories only Charles would know. I tried everything, ignoring it, engaging with it, taking blood samples from myself to check for toxins or oxygen deprivation. Nothing explained what was happening. The power fluctuations had gotten worse.

Lights dimmed when he was near. Equipment malfunctioned. The temperature dropped several degrees around him. I was heading to check the backup power systems when the corridor lights went out completely. Emergency lights kicked in, bathing everything in red.

Remember when we camped in the backyard during that blackout? Charles's voice came from behind me. You brought that red flashlight and told ghost stories until I couldn't sleep. I kept walking. Leave me alone.

You never could stand being alone. That's why you always followed me everywhere. Until that weekend. I stopped. I had work.

You always had work. His voice was closer now, more important than your own brother. I turned to face him. What do you want from me? Acknowledgement, he said simply.

Stop pretending I'm not here. The emergency lights flickered, then went out completely. I stood in total darkness, feeling the cold spot that meant he was near. I need to check the backup generators. I said to the darkness.

No, you don't. His voice was right beside my ear. Now you need to accept what's happening. The lights came back suddenly, but he was gone. Later that day, I was inspecting the airlock systems standard protocol during power fluctuations.

I stepped inside to check the seals when the inner door suddenly slid shut behind me. I turned, heart racing. The control panel was flashing red. Outer door sequence initiated. No.

I slammed my hand on the emergency override, but nothing happened. The countdown continued 30 seconds until the outer door would open to the Martian atmosphere. Charles appeared on the other side of the airlock window, watching calmly. Help me? I shouted, knowing how ridiculous it was to ask a hallucination for help.

Why should I? He asked, his voice somehow coming through the intercom. You didn't help me. 20 seconds. I tried the manual override, pulling the emergency lever.

It was stuck. I couldn't have saved you, I said, yanking harder on the lever. I wasn't even there. Exactly, Charles said. You weren't there.

10 seconds. I'm sorry, I shouted. I should have been there. Is that what you want to hear? The countdown stopped at 5 seconds.

The control panel reset itself. The inner door slid open. Charles was gone. I collapsed on the floor, shaking. Was this thing trying to kill me or just scare me?

Either way, they knew exactly how to get to me. They knew everything. Charles would know. On the morning of the sixth day, I woke up somewhere else. Not in my quarters, not anywhere in the facility.

I was sitting on a bench in the planetarium of the Natural History Museum. Our favorite place is kids. The stars swirled overhead, projections of nebula and galaxies exactly as I remembered them. I stood up, disoriented. The details were perfect.

The worn carpet, the circular room with tiered seating, the massive projector in the center. But this couldn't be real. I was still on Mars, still in the facility. Cool, isn't it? I turned to find not the adult Charles I've been seeing, but Charles at 10 years old, wearing his favorite space shuttle T-shirt and jeans with holes in the knees.

What is this? I asked. A memory. Young Charles said. Our favorite place.

We used to sneak in here during school field trips and stay for the second showing. He was right, we'd get separated from our class deliberately so we could watch the star show twice. How are you doing this? I asked. Little.

Charles shrugged. I'm not doing it. We are. Come on, there's more to see. He headed for the exit and I followed, stepping not into the museum hallway I expected, but into the geology exhibit, Another favorite.

Perfect recreations of geodes and crystals line the walls exactly as they had been 25 years ago. This isn't possible, I said. Why not? Charles asked, examining a large amethyst geode. You're a scientist.

You're supposed to question your assumptions when the evidence doesn't fit. The evidence suggests I'm hallucinating, or that something else is happening. He looked up at me with that earnest expression I remembered so well. Something you don't understand yet. He led me through more exhibits.

Dinosaurs, early humans, the insect room I used to hate, each one perfectly recreated from our childhood visits. But when we exited the insect room, we stepped into a corridor of the Mars facility, except the walls were transparent, showing the stars and galaxies from the planetarium. Where are we going? I asked to the source.

Charles said. It's time you understood. We walked through the transformed facility corridors, becoming museum exhibits, then back to Mars architecture, but always with those stars visible through the walls and ceiling. Finally, we reached the central lab in the middle of the room. A swirling vortex of energy pulsed with blue white light.

My tablet, which I suddenly realized was in my hand, show the same readings as when the original anomaly had hit the facility. What is this? I asked. Young Charles stepped toward the vortex. A connection, A bridge.

It's been trying to reach you. But you keep fighting it. What has the anomaly? He said simply. It's not what you think.

It doesn't want to hurt you. It wants to understand. The vortex pulsed brighter, and the walls of the lab seem to dissolve, showing not the museum this time, but stars. Endless stars, closer and more vivid than I had ever seen them. The stars looked close enough to touch.

They weren't just dots of light anymore, but actual spheres hanging in the darkness. I stood there, my mouth hanging open like an idiot while young Charles watched me with a little smile on his face. What is this? I asked again, my voice sounding thin in the vastness. The boy stepped closer to the swirling vortex.

Blue white energy cast shadows across his face that made him look both younger and older at the same time. It's been waiting for you, he said. Waiting for us. I glanced down at my tablet. The readings were off the charts, energy signatures unlike anything I'd ever seen.

The numbers kept changing, fluctuating wildly, as if the device couldn't decide what it was measuring. This is impossible, I muttered. You always said that, Charles laughed. Remember when Dad showed us how to build that radio? You kept saying it wouldn't work until it did.

The memory hit me hard. Dad at the kitchen table, parts spread everywhere. Charles excited, while I hung back, skeptical. The radio had worked. We picked up a station from three counties away.

You're not him, I said, but my voice lacked conviction. Charles ignored me and walked closer to the vortex. He extended his hand toward me. It wants us to be together again, Derek. No more guilt, no more being alone.

The vortex pulsed brighter and I felt a physical pull, like standing too close to a vacuum. My lab coat fluttered toward it. What do you mean, together? I asked the way we were meant to be. Charles smiled that gap toothed smile I remembered so well.

You've been carrying all this weight for so long. 10 years of blaming yourself because you weren't there with me that weekend. My throat tightened. I had work. You always had work.

There was no accusation in his voice, just a statement of fact. But it doesn't matter now, we can fix it. The vortex expanded slightly and the pull grew stronger. My shoes scraped against the floor as I struggled to maintain my position. What happens if I take your hand?

I asked. We'll be together the way twins should be. Charles's eyes looked bright, almost luminous. No more nightmares about me falling. No more waking up thinking you could have saved me.

I felt dizzy. The guilt that had been my constant companion for a decade seemed to rise up inside me like a physical thing. Maybe this was my chance. Maybe this was why I'd been left behind when everyone evacuated. The stars beyond the dissolving walls seem to spin slowly.

I took a half step forward, not entirely of my own volition. That's it? Charles encouraged. You don't have to be alone anymore. My foot moved forward again.

The vortex's energy made my skin tingle, not unpleasantly. It would be so easy to just let go, to surrender to whatever this was. But something caught in my mind, a snag, like a thread on a sweater. You said I wasn't there that weekend. I said slowly.

That I could have saved you. Yes. Charles nodded eagerly. But now? But that's not what happened.

I interrupted. The realization was forming, crystallizing in my mind. I was there. I was 20 feet away when you fell. Charles's expression flickered, just for an instant.

You were working. You stayed behind. No. I shook my head, the memories suddenly sharp and clear. I went on that trip.

I was setting up camp when you decided to free climb that rock face. I called out for you to wait for the gear, but you said you didn't need it. The pull from the vortex intensified, but I planted my feet. My heart was pounding now, but my head felt clearer than it had in days.

I watched you fall. I ran to you. I held you while you died. My voice cracked. I couldn't have prevented it.

I tried to talk you out of the climb, but you wouldn't listen. You never listened when it came to taking risks. Charles's face. No, not Charles. The thing pretending to be Charles darkened.

You blame yourself. I can feel it. Yes, I admitted. I do blame myself. I've carried that guilt for 10 years.

But not because I wasn't there. Because I was there and it didn't matter. The boy's form wavered slightly, like heat rising from pavement. You're not Charles, I said, the certainty growing stronger. My brother would never use my guilt against me like this.

I am what you need me to be, the apparition said, it's voice changing, deepening, no longer a child's voice. I can take your pain away. No. I stood straighter. You're feeding on it.

The stars beyond the walls seem to pulse and sync with the vortex. The pull was almost unbearable now, but understanding gave me strength to resist. Whatever you are, this anomaly, this entity, you found me alone here. You dug through my memories, my guilt, my pain. You found the deepest wound, and you're using it.

We can be together. The thing that wasn't. Charles repeated, but it's voice sounded desperate now. No more loneliness. I reached into my pocket, fingers closing around something I'd carried every day for 10 years.

I pulled out a small, smooth rock. Nothing special to look at, just a piece of granite with a vein of quartz running through it. Charles gave me this the morning of the climb. I said, holding it up. His lucky charm, he called it, said he wouldn't need it because I was there.

The apparitions eyes fixed on the rock, it's form flickering more rapidly now. He never blamed me, I continued. That last moment when I held him, he told me it wasn't my fault. He made me promise to remember that. I looked at the rock in my palm.

Such a small thing to carry so much weight. I've been breaking that promise for 10 years, I said quietly, carrying this guilt he never wanted me to have. The vortex pulsed violently, the energy whipping around. The lab equipment crashed to the floor. The pull was so strong now I had to brace myself against a table.

You're not my brother, I said, looking directly at the apparition. And I'm done letting my guilt control me. I stepped toward the vortex, fighting against its pull to move deliberately. I forgive myself, I said, and I'm letting go. I held the rock out over the swirling energy.

The apparition's face contorted in what looked like fear. Don't, it cried, but the voice wasn't Charles's anymore. It was something else, something alien. I opened my fingers and let the rock fall into the center of the vortex. The apparition screamed, a sound no human throat could make.

Its form stretched, elongated, and then collapsed in on itself. The vortex began to spin faster, contracting violently. A blinding flash of blue white light exploded outward. I felt myself lifted off, my feet thrown backward through the air. There was a sensation of incredible heat, then cold, then nothing at all.

I don't know how long I was unconscious. I came to on the floor of the central lab, my head throbbing. I sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in my back and shoulders. The lab was intact. The walls were solid again.

No stars, no vortex, no apparition. Just the familiar equipment, some of it knocked over, and the steady hum of the facility systems. I checked my tablet, which had somehow survived the blast. The data logs showed energy readings that should have been impossible, spikes that went off the charts before dropping to nothing. According to the timestamp, I've been out for nearly three hours.

I got to my feet, checking myself for injuries. Nothing serious, some bruises, maybe a mild concussion. I patted my pocket automatically feeling for the familiar shape of Charles's rock. It wasn't there. I walked through the facility, checking systems, making sure everything was back to normal.

It had been three days since whatever happened with that energy vortex. 3 days of blessed silence. No footsteps in the night, no items mysteriously moved, no Charles. Just me and the steady hum of the equipment. My bruises had faded to yellow green patches, and the headache was mostly gone.

I'd spent most of the time running diagnostics and documenting everything I could remember about the anomaly, The scientific data, anyway. I kept the personal stuff, the conversations with Charles, the guilt, the way it felt when I finally let go to myself. That wasn't going in any official report. I was in the middle of calibrating one of the spectrometers when I heard it.

A mechanical rumbling that didn't belong to any of the facility systems. I recognize that sound. A shuttle. My tablet chimed with an incoming transmission. Murph facility.

This is Relief Mission Alpha. Doctor Farley, do you copy? Preparing for landing sequence. I grabbed the tablet and pressed the COM button. This is Farley, I copy all systems operational landing pad is clear.

Copy that. ETA 12 minutes. I set the tablet down and looked around the lab for a second. I almost expected to see Charles standing there with that half smile of his, but there was nothing, just equipment and silence. I headed to the airlock access corridor, my footsteps echoing on the metal floor.

Through the observation window I could see dust kicking up on the landing pad as the shuttle made its approach. It was smaller than our regular transport shuttles, probably just a two or three person craft. The landing struts touched down with a gentle bump I could feel through the floor. The engines powered down and I watched as the exterior light cycled through their post flight sequence.

After a few minutes the shuttle door opened and two figures in Mars surface suit stepped out. I waited at the inner airlock door, watching through the small window as they entered the outer chamber. The cycle took about two minutes. The rush of air, the pressure equalization, the green light indicating it was safe.

When the inner door slid open, they were already removing their helmets. The first one out was a woman with dark hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. She had the focused look of medical personnel. I'd seen it plenty of times during my mandatory psych evaluations. The second was a taller man with a military bearing and close cropped hair.

Security, most likely. Doctor Farley, The woman said, extending her hand. Doctor Aubrey Stevens, Medical Officer, this is Justin Lloyd, security specialist. I shook her hand. Derek Farley, welcome to what's left of Murph.

Lloyd looked around the corridor, his eyes scanning everything with professional assessment. Facility looks intact from what I can see. Most of it is, I said. Some equipment damage in the main lab, but nothing critical. Doctor Stevens was already looking me over with a clinical eye.

And you? How are you doing, Doctor Farley? I'm fine, I said, surprised to realize I actually meant it. Really. We expected to find you in much worse shape, Lloyd said bluntly.

3 weeks alone after an unexplained cosmic event. Director Phillips is furious you stayed behind. I'm sure he is, I said, leading them toward the main facility. But the data I collected will change how we understand anomalous energy patterns. It was worth staying.

That's for the review board to decide, Lloyd said. Phillips wanted me to remind you that you violated direct orders. Doctor Stevens shot him a look. Justin, maybe we could save the reprimands until after I've examined Dr. Farley.

I LED them to the commissary, figuring it was the most comfortable place for a conversation. I've got coffee, I offered. It's instant, but it's better than nothing. Coffee would be great. Steven said, setting her medical kit on the table.

I busied myself with the coffee. While they settled in. Lloyd remained standing still, scanning the room like he expected trouble to jump out from behind the refrigerator. So what happened to your doctor? Farley Stevens asked as I set 3 mugs on the table.

Derek is fine. I said, sitting down. And it's a long story. We've got time. Lloyd said.

The return shuttle doesn't launch for another 48 hours. I took a sip of coffee. The official version or the truth? They exchanged a look. Let's start with the official version, Stevens said carefully.

I nodded. The anomaly hit about 3 hours after the evacuation. There were power fluctuations, electromagnetic disturbances, and some equipment damage. I documented everything I could and ran every analysis the equipment would allow. And the unofficial version?

Stevens asked. I shook my head. Some things don't belong in reports. Lloyd leaned forward. Doctor Farley, if there's anything that could pose a risk to future missions, there isn't.

I cut him off. What happened was personal, and it's over now. Steven studied my face. You seem remarkably calm for someone who's been isolated for three weeks during a potentially catastrophic event. I wasn't alone the whole time, I said, then immediately regretted it.

Lloyd's hand moved slightly toward what I assumed was a concealed weapon. Explain. It's not what you think, I said quickly. There was no one else physically here. The anomaly had some hallucinogenic effects, very convincing ones.

You hallucinated company? Stevens asked, her tone professional but gentle. Something like that, I said. My brother, he's been dead for 10 years. Stevens nodded, making a note on her tablet.

That's a common psychological response to extreme isolation. The mind creates companionship from significant memories. I almost laughed. If only it had been that simple, right? Exactly.

Did these hallucinations seem threatening? Lloyd asked. Initially, yes, but in the end they were helpful. I wasn't sure how else to describe it. Stevens glanced at her medical scanner.

Your vitals are surprisingly normal. Slight elevation in cortisol, but nothing concerning given the circumstances. Like I said, I'm fine. I took another sip of coffee. How's Catherine and the rest of the team all safely at Olympus base, Lloyd said.

Your assistant, Catherine Patel, she's been especially concerned, tried to convince Phillips to send a rescue mission sooner. That sounds like her, I said, smiling slightly. Director Phillips wants a full report, Lloyd continued. Every detail of what happened after the anomaly hit. He'll get the scientific data, I said, the energy readings, the environmental changes, everything that might help us understand what happened and prepare for it if it happens again.

But not the personal stuff. Stephen said it wasn't a question. No, that stays with me. Lloyd looked like he wanted to argue, but Stephen spoke first. That's your right, Doctor Farley.

My preliminary assessment is that you're physically healthy and mentally stable. I'll need to conduct a more thorough examination, but I don't see any immediate concerns. Thank you. I said. Don't thank me yet.

She replied with a small smile. I still have to clear you for transport, and my standards are high. After they finished their coffee, I showed them to the guest quarters. The facility had a few rooms for visiting researchers, and they were still fully functional. Stevens set up her medical equipment in one, turning it into a makeshift exam room.

I'll need a few hours to run diagnostics on the facility systems, Lloyd said. Standard procedure. Help yourself. I told him all terminals are unlocked. Once Lloyd was gone, Stevens gestured to the chair in her improvised exam room.

Let's get this over with, shall we? The examination was thorough but quick. Blood samples, neurological tests, reflex checks, pupillary response. Stevens worked efficiently, her movements practiced and precise. You really are in remarkably good shape, she said, reviewing the results Physically at least, and mentally.

She smiled. You tell me. I considered the question. Three days ago, I'd faced something impossible. I'd confronted a manifestation of my own guilt that had taken my brother's form.

I'd let go of a burden I'd carried for 10 years. And somehow I felt more sane than I had in a long time. I'm good, I said. Better than I've been in years. Actually.

Want to talk about it? I hesitated. The official report will have all the anomaly data, the energy readings, the atmospheric changes, the effect on the facility systems, and the unofficial report. She asked gently. I looked at her for a long moment.

Whatever happened here, whether it was an alien entity, A hallucination, or something else entirely, it forced me to face something I've been avoiding for a decade. My brother's death, my guilt over it. She nodded, listening without judgement. I've been carrying that weight for so long, I didn't know who I was without it.

I continued. But now it's like I can breathe again. That's a good thing, Derek. I know. I smiled slightly.

Strangest therapy session ever. The next day I helped Lloyd secure the facility for temporary shutdown. We powered down non essential systems, set the automated maintenance protocols, and prepared everything for a proper research team to return in a few weeks. You're really not going to tell us everything that happened are you? Lloyd asked as we worked.

I'm telling you everything that matters for the mission. I said. The rest is just personal. He nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. Fair enough.

We all have our ghosts. That evening, Stevens cleared me for transport. You're officially fit for travel, Doctor Farley. We leave tomorrow at O 800. I spent my last night in the facility walking through the corridors one final time.

Every room, every lab, every place where I'd seen Charles. It felt important somehow. Like saying goodbye. Not just to the facility, but to the guilt I'd carried for so long. In the morning I packed my few personal belongings and the data drives containing my research.

Lloyd had already loaded the shuttle with equipment, samples and facility reports. Stevens did one final check of my vitals before we suited up for departure. As the shuttle broke through the Martian atmosphere, I looked out the small viewport at the stars becoming visible beyond the thinning red haze. For the first time in 10 years, I felt the weight of Charles's death lift completely.

Whatever had happened in that facility, hallucination, alien entity, or manifestation of my own guilt, it had forced me to finally confront my past. Goodbye, Charles, I whispered, too quietly for the others to hear.