I'm Part of a Research Team. I Found Something Strange.

Hello and welcome back to another episode by Sleepy Pasta. Before you doze off tonight, don't forget to leave a five star review and a comment where you are watching from. Let's begin. I spotted the red vehicle during my mandatory outdoor break. It was sitting there plain as day, maybe half a mile out on the ice field.

I've been at Arctic Research Irene Delta for almost 3 months now, and I knew every piece of equipment we had. This wasn't ours. Hey, you see that? I asked, pointing toward the horizon. Lewis looked up from his tablet, squinting against the low afternoon sun.

See what? That red vehicle out there looks like a snow cat or something similar. He shaded his eyes with his hand and stared in the direction I was pointing. I don't see anything, Brian, it's right there. I gestured more emphatically.

About half a mile out, sitting on that flat stretch before the pressure Ridge. Lewis looked again, longer this time. Sorry, man, there's nothing there. I pulled out my phone to take a picture, but the battery was dead. Typical in these temperatures, the cold killed electronics fast if you didn't keep them close to your body.

Come on, it's right there. Red vehicle, maybe 20 feet long. How can you not see it? Lewis shrugged. Look, our break's almost over.

We should head back in before Commander Luna adds another week to our rotation. I stood my ground. I'm telling you, there's something out there. Well, if there is, it'll still be there tomorrow. Let's go before we freeze our asses off.

I reluctantly followed him back inside, glancing over my shoulder one last time. The red vehicle was still there, unmistakable against the white landscape. Once inside, I went straight to Commander Luna's office. I knocked twice on her door. Enter.

She called. I stepped inside. Commander Irene Luna sat behind her desk, her silver streaked black hair pulled back in a tight bun. She didn't look up from her computer. What is it, Harvey?

Commander, there's an unidentified vehicle on the ice field about half a mile from the station. That got her attention. She looked up, her dark eyes narrowing. What kind of vehicle? Red.

Looks like a snow cat or similar tracked vehicle. I spotted it during my break. Did anyone else see it? I was with Lewis. He claims he couldn't see it, but it was right there.

Commander Luna tapped a few keys on her computer. Let me check the perimeter cameras. I moved around to her side of the desk as she pulled up the surveillance feed. The screen showed a clearview of the ice field stretching out to the horizon. Empty.

There's nothing there, Harvey. That's impossible. It's a bright red vehicle on white ice. It should stand out like a sore thumb. She cycled through different camera angles.

Nothing. Maybe it's in a blind spot. I suggested our cameras cover a three mile radius around the station with overlapping fields. There are no blind spots. She leaned back in her chair.

When did you last sleep? A full night. This isn't about sleep. I know what I saw, Commander. Luna sighed.

Harvey, you've been putting in extra hours on your research. Fatigue can cause visual disturbances, especially in these conditions. Commander, with all due respect, I'm not hallucinating. There's a vehicle out there. She stood up.

OK, I'll have Logan check the motion sensors and heat signatures. In the meantime, I want you to see Doctor Porter. I don't need a doctor. I need someone to take this seriously. That's an order, Harvey.

Go see Porter now. I left her office frustrated but not surprised. This was how things worked at remote research stations. Anything unusual got attributed to isolation syndrome or fatigue before anyone considered it might actually be real. Doctor Eliana Porter was reviewing charts when I walked into the medical Bay.

She looked up and smiled. Brian, what brings you in today? Commander Luna sent me. Apparently seeing things that are actually there is cause for medical concern. She raised an eyebrow.

Want to elaborate on that? I explained about the red vehicle while she listened patiently making notes on her tablet. And no one else could see this vehicle? She asked when I finished. Just Lewis was with me, and he said he couldn't see it, but it was right there.

Doctor Porter nodded thoughtfully. You know, there's a phenomenon called a polar mirage. The temperature layers in the air can bend light and create illusions, sometimes projecting images from hundreds of miles away. I know what a mirage is. This wasn't one.

How can you be sure? Because it didn't shimmer or distort. It was solid, stationary. A mirage wouldn't look like that. She sat down her tablet.

Brian, you've been here almost three months without a break. The human mind isn't designed for this kind of isolation and constant darkness. It's not even full polar night yet. I pointed out. No, but we're down to what, 4 hours of daylight?

That's enough to affect your circadian rhythm and potentially cause hallucinations. I sighed. So you think I'm hallucinating too? I think you saw something that your brain interpreted as a vehicle. Maybe it was a mirage, maybe it was a shadow or ice formation.

She pulled out a small pen light. Let me check your pupils. I submitted to her examination, knowing it was pointless to argue. She checked my eyes, took my blood pressure, and asked me a series of questions about my sleep patterns and stress levels. Physically, you seem fine, she concluded.

But I'm going to recommend you take a sleep aid tonight and get a full 8 hours. See if that helps clear things up. And if I still see the vehicle tomorrow, then we'll talk again. She handed me a small pill bottle. One of these before bed.

And Brian, try to keep an open mind about what you might be experiencing. I took the bottle, but had no intention of using it. I knew what I saw. The next morning I was back outside as soon as my shift allowed for a break. The red vehicle was still there, in exactly the same spot.

This time I brought binoculars from the equipment room. Through the lenses I could make out more details. It was definitely a snow cat, the heavy duty kind used for polar expeditions. There were no identifying markings that I could see, no logos or numbers, just solid red. Still hunting for your ghost vehicle?

I lowered the binoculars. Melissa had joined me on the observation deck, her breath forming clouds in the cold air. It's not a ghost, it's right there. I handed her the binoculars. Look about half a mile out, just before the 1st pressure Ridge.

She looked through them, scanning the horizon. Sorry, Brian, I don't see anything but ice. That's impossible. I took the binoculars back and looked again. The vehicle was exactly where it had been.

It's right there. Melissa gave me a concerned look. You know, Eliana mentioned you might be experiencing some stress reactions. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Happens to the best of us out here.

I'm not stressed and I'm not hallucinating. I put the binoculars away. Something weird is going on and no one's taking it seriously. We're taking it seriously, she said gently. That's why everyone's concerned about you.

I didn't bother arguing further. Instead, I spent the rest of the day checking every surveillance camera feed I could access, looking for any sign of the vehicle. Nothing showed up on any of them. The next day was the same, and the next For five consecutive days, I saw the red snow cat sitting in the same spot on the ice.

And for five days, no one else could see it. Not through binoculars, not on cameras, not on thermal imaging. By the 5th day, people had stopped humoring me. I'd become that guy, the one who'd been out in the cold too long. The cautionary tale they'd tell the next rotation of researchers.

I cornered Commander Luna in the mess hall during dinner. Commander, I need to talk to you. She sighed, setting down her fork about the red vehicle that no one else can see. Yes, it's still out there five days now, same spot. Harvey, I know what you're going to say, but hear me out.

What if there's something wrong with our surveillance equipment? What if there's some kind of, I don't know, interference that's blocking it from our sensors? Our equipment was checked and calibrated last week. It's working perfectly. Then let me go check it out myself.

I said give me a snowmobile and proper gear. If there's nothing there, I'll admit I was wrong and schedule regular sessions with Doctor Porter. Commander Luna studied me for a long moment. And if I say no, then I'll keep seeing this thing every day and it'll keep driving me crazy and eventually I'll become a liability to the station.

She didn't respond immediately, which I took as a good sign she was actually considering it. Please, I added. I need to know. This is against my better judgement, she finally said. But I'll allow it.

Under strict conditions. You take emergency supplies, a radio with GPS tracking, and you stay in constant contact with the comms room. At the first sign of trouble, you turn back immediately. Agreed. And Harvey, if you find nothing out there, I expect you to follow Doctor Porter's recommendations without argument.

Understood. Yes, Commander. Thank you. I spent the rest of the evening gathering supplies and checking the weather forecast. Conditions looked stable for the next 24 hours.

As stable as they ever got in the Arctic winter. That night I barely slept. Part of me was excited to finally prove I wasn't losing my mind, but another part was nervous. What if there really was nothing there? What if I had been hallucinating?

Morning came and I headed to the equipment room at first light, which this far north in winter wasn't until almost 10 AM. Logan was waiting for me with a snowmobile already prepped. Commander Luna filled me in. He said handing me a helmet. You sure about this?

Positive. Well everything's ready. Emergency kits strapped to the back along with extra fuel. Radio set to channel 3. Holly will be monitoring you the whole time.

I checked the supplies and the snowmobile, everything looked in order. Thanks Logan. Just be careful out there, weather can change fast and if you get disoriented I know I'll keep the station insight. He helped me gear up in the heavy cold weather suit, making sure everything was sealed properly. Arctic temperatures were no joke, exposed skin could freeze in minutes.

Radio check before you go. He said handing me the handset. I pressed the talk button. Harvey to base radio, check. Holly's voice came through, clearly reading you 5 by 5.

Harvey, GPS tracking is active, you are good to go. Copy that, heading out now. Logan opened the Bay doors and I drove the snowmobile out onto the ice. The cold hit me immediately, even through the protective gear. The temperature display on the snowmobile read -38 Celsius.

I headed straight for where I'd been seeing the red vehicle. The snowmobile handled well on the packed ice, and I made good time every few minutes. Holly checked in. Still nothing on our sensors. Harvey.

She reported about halfway to my destination. Are you still seeing the vehicle? Affirmative. It's right where it's been all week. Well, you're about 1/4 mile from those coordinates now.

Be careful. I slowed as I approached, stopping about 50 yards from the snow cat. Up close, it was even more substantial than I'd thought. A heavy duty model with reinforced tracks and a raised cab. Definitely not a mirage.

I'm here. I radioed. The vehicle is right in front of me. Red snowcat, industrial model, no markings. There was a pause before Holly responded.

Harvey, we're still not picking up anything on sensors. Commander Luna wants you to take pictures and return to base. Copy that. I pulled out the camera. I'd brought a proper digital 1, not my phone, and took several shots of the vehicle from different angles.

Then I approached slowly. The snow cat looked recently used. There was no snow buildup on it, and I could see tracks leading away toward a small rise in the ice field. Harvey to base. I'm going to check if anyone's inside.

Be careful, Holly warned. Commander Luna says don't touch anything if you can avoid it. I approached the driver's side door and peered through the window. The interior was illuminated and I could see the control panel was powered up. More surprisingly, there was steam rising from a mug in the cup holder.

Base. The vehicle is powered on, and there's what appears to be a hot drink inside. Someone was here very recently. Harvey returned to base immediately. Commander Luna's voice cut in.

That's an order, Commander. Someone is out here, they might need help. Our sensors show no heat signatures or life signs in your vicinity. Return to base now. I hesitated, then tried the door handle.

It wasn't locked. The door swung open easily and warm air rushed out. I'm checking inside. I said, ignoring the commander's order. Harvey, do not.

I climbed into the cab, leaving the door open. The interior was warm, almost hot compared to the outside temperature. The mug contained coffee, still steaming. The control panel showed the engine was running, and there was a tablet mounted on the dashboard displaying what looked like seismic readings. Base.

There's a tablet here showing seismic activity. Recent activity from the timestamps. Harvey. What part of Return to Base was unclear, Commander. Luna sounded furious.

Commander, something's going on here. These readings show seismic activity that doesn't match any of our recorded data. I took pictures of the tablet display, then noticed a set of footprints leading away from the snow cat. They headed toward the small rise I'd noticed earlier. There are fresh footprints, I reported.

I'm going to follow them. Negative. Harvey returned to base immediately. I ignored her and climbed out of the snow cat. The footprints were clear in the snow, heading about 30 yards to what I thought was just a small pressure Ridge.

As I got closer, I realized it wasn't a natural formation at all. Base. There's some kind of structure or installation here. The footprints led to what appeared to be a metal hatch partially covered by snow. It was about 3 feet in diameter with a wheel handle on top.

I found a hatch in the ice. I reported taking more pictures. Metal construction looks like an entrance to something underground. Harvey, this is a direct order from Commander Luna. Do not approach that hatch.

Return to base immediately. I knelt down and brushed away the snow covering the Hatch. There were no markings, no logos, nothing to indicate who it belonged to. Harvey acknowledged the order. Holly's voice had an edge of panic.

Now I hear you, I replied. But I need to know what this is. I grasped the wheel handle and turned it. It moved easily, not frozen or rusted. Whoever had been here had used it recently.

Harvey, your GPS signal is fluctuating. Please respond. the Hatch opened with a soft hiss, revealing a dark shaft with a ladder leading down. Warm air rushed up from below. I'm opening the Hatch. I said into the radio.

There's a ladder leading down. I'm going to check it out. Harvey, do not enter that hatch. We're sending a team to your location. Stay put.

But my curiosity was too strong. I secured my camera and radio, then swung my legs into the opening and started climbing down the ladder. I'm going in, I said. I'll maintain radio contact. Harvey, Brian, do not.

The radio crackled with static as I descended. About 15 feet down, the signal cut out completely. I paused, looking up at the circle of light above me, then continued downward. The ladder ended in a small chamber with a single door. The walls were smooth metal illuminated by recessed lighting.

It looked like an airlock or entrance to a larger facility. I tried the radio again, nothing but static. The door had a simple lever handle. I hesitated for just a moment, then pulled it down and pushed the door open, stepping into what appeared to be an underground research facility. The corridor opened into a wider space and I stopped dead in my tracks.

I was looking at a large room with workstations arranged in a familiar pattern. Too familiar. The layout was identical to the main research lab at Irene Delta. What the hell? I whispered to myself.

I moved closer to 1 of the workstations the computer was on, displaying climate model simulations. The exact same ones we were running back at the station. Same parameters, same data sets, same everything. I checked another screen, then another, all running our models. This didn't make any sense.

I looked around for any sign of who might work here. There were coffee mugs on several desks, some still steaming. 1/2 eaten sandwich sat on a plate next to one of the keyboards. Whoever had been here had left in a hurry, and not long ago I picked up one of the mugs. The coffee inside was still hot enough to send wisps of steam into the air.

I set it back down carefully, exactly where I'd found it. The lab had 14 workstations, just like our station. Each one was personalized in small ways. A photo taped to a monitor. A small plant.

A coffee mug with a university logo. I recognize the setups. Lewis's station with his collection of smooth stones arranged in a neat row. Melissa's with a small potted succulent she somehow kept alive despite the lack of natural light. And there, in the corner, was a workstation that looked exactly like mine.

Same dual monitor setup, same reference book stacked to the left. Even the same worn coffee mug with the chipped handle. I walked over and picked up the mug. It had the same chip in exactly the same spot. This wasn't just similar to mine, it was identical.

This isn't possible. I said out loud, my voice sounding strange in the empty room. I set the mug down and checked the computer. It was logged in under my username, running the same climate model I've been working on. Yesterday.

The data was identical, the graphs showing the same patterns. I clicked through a few files. They were all there, my work, my notes, everything. I backed away from the desk, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. This wasn't just a similar facility, it was an exact replica of Research Irene Delta.

But why? And who built it? I needed to see more. I headed toward where the living quarters would be if this really was a copy of our station. The corridor leading there was the same as ours.

Same lighting, same color scheme, same emergency exit signs. The door to the living quarters opened with a familiar hydraulic hiss. Inside, the layout was identical to our station, a common area with tables and chairs, a small kitchen area, and doors leading to individual rooms. I checked the names on the doors, Louis Tran, Melissa Jordan, Eliana Porter, Logan Davis, Irene Luna, all the same names in the same order as our station.

And there it was, my name, Brian Harvey on a door that should lead to a room just like mine. Back at the station, I hesitated before opening it. Part of me didn't want to see what was inside, but I needed to know. I pushed the door open. The room was a perfect copy of my quarters at Irene Delta.

Same bed with the same Gray blanket, same desk with my laptop, same books on the small shell, my geology textbooks, the sci-fi novels I'd brought to pass the time, even the worn paperback of The Martian I'd read three times since arriving at the station. I walked over to the desk and picked up the framed photo sitting there.

It showed my parents, Donald and Virginia Harvey, standing in front of their house back in Minnesota. The same photo I had on my desk back at the station. I turned it over. The same inscription was written on the back in my mother's handwriting. Stay warm up there, love, Mom and Dad.

I set the photo down with shaking hands. This was beyond unsettling. It wasn't just that someone had built a replica of our station. They'd replicated my personal belongings down to the smallest detail. I opened the desk drawer.

Inside was my lucky geology textbook from undergrad, the one with all my notes in the margins. I flipped through it. Every note, every highlighted passage was exactly the same as in my copy. The bathroom door was ajar. I pushed it open and found another perfect replica.

Same toiletries arranged on the small shelf. My toothpaste with the cap left off just like I always did, despite promising myself I'd be more careful. The shower curtain was pushed to one side, and the tiles inside we're still wet. Someone had used it recently. I backed out of the bathroom, my heart racing.

This was getting more disturbing by the minute. I needed to see the rest of the facility. Back in the corridor, I headed toward where the common area would be. The door slid open, revealing a space identical to our mess hall. Tables and chairs arranged in the same configuration.

The same motivational posters on the walls the Commander Luna had put up in our first week. The kitchen area was fully stocked. The refrigerator hummed quietly. I opened it and found the same food we had back at the station arranged in the same way someone had labeled their yogurt with Elie River Melissa Do not eat in the same handwriting as Melissa's labels.

Back at our station, the dining table was set for a meal 14 place settings matching our team size exactly. Some of the plates had half eaten food on them, as if everyone had suddenly gotten up and left in the middle of dinner. I picked up one of the forks. It was still warm.

Hello. I called out. Is anyone here? My voice echoed through the empty room. No response.

I set the fork down and continued my exploration. Next would be the communication center. If this place truly mirrored our station, the comms room door was unlocked. Inside, the setup was identical to Holly's domain back at Irene Delta. Multiple monitors displayed various data feeds.

Radio equipment hummed softly, and status lights blinked in familiar patterns. I moved closer to the monitors and froze. They were showing live feeds from our station. I could see the exterior cameras displaying the same views I'd seen hundreds of times from our security monitors. The ice field, the equipment shed, the main entrance.

And there, on one of the screens was thermal imagery showing a single heat signature moving across the ice. The timestamp was current, the coordinates matched where I was. It was me. They were watching me from above. I stepped back from the monitors, a cold feeling spreading through my chest.

This wasn't just a replica of our station, it was actively monitoring us, monitoring me. Another screen showed vital sign readings. Heart rate, blood pressure, body temperature. The name at the top of the screen. Harvey Bryan.

My heart rate was elevated, according to the monitor. No surprise there. The reading matched exactly what I was feeling, a racing pulse that pounded in my ears. I needed to get out of here now. I turned and ran back the way I'd come, through the common area, past the living quarters, through the lab.

My footsteps echoed loudly in the empty facility. I kept expecting someone to appear to try to stop me, but the place remained deserted. I reached the entrance chamber and grabbed the ladder, climbing as fast as I could. My breath came in short gasps, partly from exertion, but mostly from fear. What the hell was this place?

Who built it, and why did they have a perfect replica of me, of all of us? As I neared the top of the ladder, my radio crackled to life. Harvey, do you copy? Brian Harvey, this is base, do you copy? It was Holly's voice, tense with concern.

I pushed the Hatch open and climbed out into the biting cold. The sudden temperature change made me gasp, but the familiar pain of Arctic air in my lungs was almost comforting after what I'd just seen. I copy. I said into my radio, my voice shaking. This is Harvey.

Brian. Holly sounded relieved. We lost your signal for 23 minutes. Commander Luna wants to speak with you immediately. The radio crackled again, and Luna's voice came through, sharp and clear.

Harvey, what the hell is going on? Your vital signs are spiking all over the place. The rescue team is 15 minutes from your position. I looked back at the Hatch, then at the red snow cat still sitting where I'd left it. Commander, I.

I didn't even know where to begin. How could I explain what I'd just seen? I found something. An underground facility. It's it's a replica of our station.

Exact copy, everything. There was a pause before Luna responded. Say again, Harvey, did you say a replica of our station? Yes. Everything's the same.

The labs, the living quarters, even our personal belongings. And they're monitoring us. They have feeds from all our cameras, our data, everything. Another pause, longer this time. Harvey, I want you to return to base immediately.

Do not go back into that facility. Do you understand me? Yes, Commander. I'm heading back now. I closed the Hatch and secured it, then trudged through the snow back to my snowmobile.

The red snow cat sat silently nearby, its engine still running, steam rising from its exhaust in the frigid air. I started my snowmobile and pointed it back toward the station. As I accelerated away, I couldn't help looking back over my shoulder. The red snow cat grew smaller in the distance, a bright spot of colour against the endless white.

I kept glancing back until it disappeared from view, half expecting to see someone or something following me. I pulled into the station's vehicle Bay, the engine of my snowmobile sputtering as I cut the power. My hands were shaking, but not from the cold. Logan was waiting for me as I dismounted, his face tight with concern.

Harvey, you OK? Commander's been going nuts since you went off comms. I need to talk to everyone. I said, pulling off my gloves. You're not going to believe what I found out there.

Slow down, Doctor Porter wants to check you out first. I didn't have time for that. Logan, there's a facility out there underground. It's medical first. He said firmly, putting a hand on my shoulder.

Commander's orders. The rest of the team was gathered in the main corridor. Melissa rushed forward when she saw me, relief washing over her face. Brian, thank God we were worried sick when you disappeared from the radar. Before I could respond, Doctor Porter pushed through the small crowd, medical kit in hand.

Sit. She ordered, pointing to a nearby bench. Now. I sat down, still trying to catch my breath. Eliana immediately pressed A thermometer to my forehead while checking my pulse.

I'm fine, I insisted. But you all need to hear this. There's a facility out there, an exact replica of this station. Everything's the same, down to our personal belongings. Commander Luna stepped forward, her expression stern.

Dr. Porter, is he hypothermic? Temperatures normal? Eliana said, shining a light in my eyes. Pupils reactive, heart rate elevated, but that's to be expected.

I'm not delirious, I said. I know what I saw. There's a red snow cat parked out on the ice next to it. There's a hatch leading underground to a facility that's monitoring us. They have screens showing thermal images of me moving across the ice.

They're tracking my vital signs. The team exchanged glances. I recognize those looks, the same ones they've been giving me for days when I talked about the red vehicle, Brian, Melissa said gently. We've been monitoring you the whole time. There was nothing out there that's not true.

I was inside it. I saw our lab, exact copies of our workstations. Louis, they had your rock collection. Melissa, your plant was there. My coffee mug with a chip on the handle, everything.

Lewis stepped forward. Brian, man, I think you need to rest. I don't need rest. I stood up, pulling away from Eliana. I need you all to listen.

Someone built an exact copy of our station underground. They're watching us, Commander. Luna's voice cut through the tension. Harvey, enough. Logan, show him.

Logan nodded and gestured for me to follow him to the surveillance room. The others trailed behind as we filed into the cramped space filled with monitors. Holly was at her station, headset around her neck. Pull up the footage from Sector 7. Luna ordered Time Index starting from when Doctor Harvey left the station.

Holly's fingers flew over the keyboard and the main screen displayed a bird's eye view of the ice field. I watched myself on the snowmobile, a tiny dark speck against the white expanse, heading out from the station. This is from our perimeter cameras, Logan explained. We tracked you the whole way. The footage continued, showing me stopping in the middle of nowhere.

The timestamp matched when I'd reached the snow cat there. I pointed. Right there. That's where the vehicle was parked. Logan zoomed in.

The image showed me dismounting from my snowmobile and walking around what appeared to be empty space in the video. I was clearly examining something, taking pictures, but there was nothing there, just ice and snow. That's impossible, I whispered. The snow cat was right there. Keep watching, Luna said.

The footage showed me walking about 30 yards away, then stopping and crouching down. I watched myself on screen as I appeared to open something invisible, then climbed down into nothing but solid ice. You disappeared from our sensors for 23 minutes, Holly said. We thought the cameras had malfunctioned until you reappeared in the exact same spot.

I stared at the screen, my mind racing. The photos. I took pictures of everything. Check my camera. Luna nodded, and I pulled the digital camera from my pocket, hands fumbling with the buttons.

I clicked through to the images I'd taken. The snow cat, the seismic readings on the tablet, the Hatch, the underground lab. But as I turned the display toward the others, my stomach dropped. The photos showed nothing but ice fields, empty, endless white. In some.

There was a strange blur where the snow cat should have been, but nothing definitive. This isn't right. I said, scrolling frantically through the images. I took clear pictures. The vehicle was right there. the Hatch was right there.

Melissa placed a gentle hand on my arm. Brian, I think you need to rest. You've been pushing yourself too hard. I'm not hallucinating. I insisted, but my voice sounded hollow even to my own ears.

I looked from face to face, finding only concern and doubt. I know what I saw. Commander Luna stepped forward. Doctor Harvey, you're relieved of duties for the next 48 hours. Doctor Porter will conduct a full medical evaluation.

That's an order. I wanted to argue, but the evidence, or lack thereof, was staring me in the face. The camera footage showed me interacting with nothing. My photos revealed only empty ice, but I could still feel the cold metal of the ladder rungs in my hands. Still smell the coffee in that mug.

Yes, Commander. I said finally. The next two days were a blur of medical tests. Eliana checked everything. Blood work, neurological responses, vision tests, even an MRI using our limited medical equipment.

I submitted to it all, hoping something would explain what I'd experienced. On the 3rd morning, I sat across from Eliana in the medical Bay as she reviewed her findings. Physically, you're in excellent health, she said, setting down her tablet. No signs of infection, normal blood work, no evidence of stroke or seizure activity.

So what's your professional opinion, doc? I asked. Am I losing my mind? She sighed. The human brain is complex, Brian.

Extended isolation in extreme environments can cause perceptual disturbances. Add in the limited daylight at this latitude, disrupted circadian rhythms, and the stress of your research, it's not uncommon for people to experience vivid hallucinations that seem completely real. This wasn't a hallucination. You described entering a facility that's an exact replica of our station, down to personal items in your quarters.

Doesn't it seem more likely that your brain constructed this scenario using familiar elements, rather than someone building an exact underground copy of Irene Delta without any of us knowing? Put that way, it did sound ridiculous, but I couldn't shake the memory of standing in that replica of our lab, seeing the monitors tracking my movements.

What about the red snow cat? I've been seeing it for days. The mind can be persistent with its constructs, she explained. Once your brain created this image, it continued to present it to you. The fact that no one else could see it and it doesn't appear on any of our instruments or your camera supports this theory.

I rubbed my eyes. So your official diagnosis is that I'm hallucinating? My official diagnosis is that you experienced a stress induced perceptual event consistent with isolation syndrome. It's temporary and treatable. She handed me a small bottle of pills.

These will help regulate your sleep cycle. I'm also recommending daily sessions with me to discuss what you're experiencing. I took the bottle but didn't open it. Thanks, Doc. That afternoon, Commander Luna called me to her office.

She sat behind her desk, reviewing Eliana's report. Doctor Porter says you're physically fine. She said without looking up. Yes, Commander. And her recommendation is that you experienced hallucinations due to environmental stressors.

That's her theory. I said carefully. Luna set down the tablet and fixed me with her penetrating gaze. Do you accept that diagnosis, Dr. Harvey?

I hesitated. I'm considering all possibilities. That's not what I asked. With all due respect to Commander, I know what I experienced felt real, but I also can't explain why no one else can see the vehicle or why it doesn't show up on cameras. She studied me for a long moment.

I need to know if you're fit for duty, Brian. We can't have someone on this team who might be experiencing breaks from reality. I understand that, so I'll ask again. Do you accept Doctor Porter's diagnosis? I took a deep breath.

For the purposes of returning to work, yes. I accept that what I experienced might have been a hallucination. Luna nodded, seemingly satisfied with my diplomatic answer. You're cleared to return to limited duties tomorrow. No solo field work until Doctor Porter gives final clearance.

Understood. Yes, Commander. As I left her office, Melissa was waiting in the corridor. She fell into step beside me. How'd it go?

She asked. I'm back on limited duty tomorrow. That's good news. She hesitated. Some of us are having coffee in the lounge.

Want to join? I almost declined, but the thought of sitting alone in my quarters with my thoughts wasn't appealing. Sure. In the lounge, Lewis and Ronnie were already seated with steaming mugs. They looked up when we entered, their conversation halting awkwardly.

Hey, Brian? Lewis said with forced casualness. How are you feeling? Like everyone's walking on egg shells around me. I replied, pouring myself coffee.

Ronnie laughed. Can you blame us? You went full conspiracy theorist on us, Ronnie. Melissa warned. What?

We're all thinking it. Ronnie turned to me. No offence man, but you have to admit, Secret Underground base. That's an exact copy of our station. That's straight out of a sci-fi movie.

I took a seat. Yeah, I know how it sounds. For what it's worth, Lewis said. I had a similar experience during my second winter at McMurdo. Thought I saw lights moving across the ice at night.

Turned out to be nothing. Did you actually go out and touch these lights? I asked. Did you go inside them and see exact copies of your personal belonging? Lewis shifted uncomfortably.

No, but then it's not the same thing. An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Melissa cleared her throat. I've been reading about polar environments and their effects on perception, she said. There's a phenomenon called Arctic hysteria that early explorers documented.

The combination of isolation, cold and constant darkness can trigger vivid waking dreams. Is that your theory? I asked that I had a waking dream. She nodded. It would explain why the experience felt so real to you.

Your brain essentially created a dream state while you were fully conscious. That doesn't explain why I've been seeing the same red vehicle in the same location for days. Actually, it might, she countered. Your brain could have been building this narrative over time, adding details with each sighting until it culminated in the full experience you had yesterday.

I wanted to argue, but what was the point? They'd all made-up their minds, and without evidence, I couldn't blame them. That night, alone in my quarters, I pulled out a notebook and began writing. I sketched the layout of the underground facility from memory, noting every detail I could recall the exact placement of furniture, the personal items I'd seen, the monitoring equipment.

If it had been a hallucination, I reasoned, documenting everything might help me process it. But as I drew the floor plan, something nagged at me. I flipped back through my notes, comparing the layout of the underground facility with our actual station. There were differences, subtle ones I hadn't noticed during my frantic exploration in the replica lab.

Louis's workstation had been positioned slightly closer to the wall than it was here. Melissa's plant had been on the left side of her desk, but here at the station she kept it on the right. In the duplicate of my quarters, my books had been arranged alphabetically, but I organized mine by subject. These weren't the kind of details my mind would have invented.

If my brain was creating a hallucination based on familiar surroundings, wouldn't it have gotten these details right? I continued making notes, documenting every discrepancy I could remember. The differences were small but significant, the kind of mistakes someone might make when recreating a space they'd only observed remotely. Over the next few days, I maintained a careful facade of recovery.

I took Eliana's pills or pretended to, participated in her counseling sessions, and gradually resumed my research duties. All the while, I continued my private investigation, discreetly comparing notes about the differences between our station and what I'd seen underground. In the mess hall. 1 evening, I casually asked Melissa about her plant. Have you always kept it on the right side of your desk?

I asked. She looked up from her dinner. No, actually, I moved it last week. It wasn't getting enough light on the left side. My pulse quickened.

When exactly did you move it? I don't know. Tuesday maybe? Why Tuesday? 3 days before my expedition to the Red Snow Cat, the duplicate facility had shown her plant in its old position.

Later, I approached Lewis about his workstation. Did you rearrange your desk recently? I asked as casually as I could manage. Yeah, pushed it back against the wall to make more room. He said.

Commander Luna kept bumping into it when she walked through. When was that? He shrugged. Couple days ago, Monday, I think. Another discrepancy that matched my timeline.

The duplicate facility didn't reflect recent changes to our station. That night, I added these findings to my growing collection of notes. Whatever I had discovered out on the ice, I was increasingly convinced it wasn't a hallucination. The facility was real, but it was working with outdated information, as if whoever had created it hadn't updated their observations in about a week.

I stared at my notebook, the implications sinking in. If the facility was real, then someone was indeed monitoring us. And if they were monitoring us closely enough to recreate our personal spaces but missing recent changes, it meant they had limited access to current information. Most disturbing of all, if the facility was real, then something or someone had erased it from my camera and from the station's surveillance footage.

Which meant this wasn't just about observation. Someone was actively interfering with our perception of reality. I closed my notebook and hid it under my mattress. I needed more evidence before I could approach anyone with my theories. But one thing was becoming clear.

The differences between the replica and our actual station weren't random errors, they were clues. I'd been keeping up appearances for three days now, taking Porter's meds well, pretending to showing up for our daily sessions, nodding along to her theories about isolation syndrome, all while collecting evidence. At night, when everyone else was asleep, I sat cross legged on my bed, notebook open in front of me, reviewing my findings.

The station logs showed something interesting. Power fluctuations that nobody had mentioned. Small ones, barely noticeable unless you were looking for them. But they were there, and they matched up perfectly with when I first spotted the red snow cat. Coincidence.

I muttered, tracing the pattern with my finger. The spikes occurred at regular intervals every 72 hours, starting exactly 3 days before I saw the vehicle. The most recent one happened yesterday at O 600 hours. I flipped to a clean page and wrote Power fluctuations facility powering up, then underlined it twice. A knock at my door made me slam the notebook shut.

I shoved it under my pillow and grabbed a random book from my night stand. Come in. I called, trying to sound casual. Lewis poked his head in. Hey, you missed lunch.

Did I? I glanced at my watch. 1:45 PM. Lost track of time, I guess. Lewis stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

He studied me with that analytical look he gets when examining core samples. You've been different since you came back from your expedition. Different how? I kept my voice neutral. Porter says I'm making good progress.

That's just it. Louis leaned against my desk. You're being too agreeable. The Brian I know would still be arguing that what he saw was real. I shrugged.

Maybe the meds are working. Maybe. Louis didn't sound convinced. His eyes drifted to my pillow, where the corner of my notebook was just visible. What are you working on?

I hesitated. Lewis was methodical, skeptical, exactly the kind of person who dismissed my theories, But he was also thorough and respected evidence, if I could get him to look at the data without bias. Can I trust you with something? I asked. Lewis raised an eyebrow.

Of course. I mean really trust you. As in not immediately reporting to Luna or Porter. He frowned. Brian, if you're experiencing, it's not hallucinations.

I cut him off. It's data. Actual, measurable data. That doesn't make sense. Lewis was quiet for a moment, then nodded.

Show me. I pulled out my notebook and opened it to the page with the power fluctuation records. I've been going through the station logs. Look at these power spikes. They started exactly 9 days ago and repeat every 72 hours.

Lewis took the notebook studying the numbers. These are within normal parameters for a facility this size. But the pattern isn't normal. I insisted, and the first visual sighting of the snow cat lines up perfectly with the third spike. Lewis handed the notebook back.

Correlation doesn't equal causation. I know that. I said, frustrated. But what if there's a way to prove the facility exists, something that can't be explained away as a hallucination? Lewis crossed his arms.

Like what? I thought for a moment. Satellite imagery? The station receives regular updates, right? Yes, but could you access thermal imaging data, not just visible light?

Lewis looked intrigued despite himself. I could. What are you thinking? If there's an underground facility, it would generate heat. Even with insulation.

There should be some thermal signature. Lewis considered this. That's actually testable. And if nothing shows up, would you accept that as evidence against your theory? I nodded.

Yes. All I want is to follow the scientific method here, form a hypothesis, test it, analyze results. All right, Lewis said after a moment. Let's check the satellite data. But we do this properly controlled conditions, no confirmation bias deal.

20 minutes later, we were in the data lab. Lewis had access to the satellite feeds that most of us didn't, part of his role monitoring environmental changes. He pulled up the most recent passes over our region. Standard visual spectrum first, Lewis said. Typing commands.

The screen showed a crisp image of endless white. Our station, a small cluster of buildings. This is from yesterday's pass. Can you go back nine days when the power fluctuation started? Louis nodded and pulled up the earlier image.

Nothing looked different, just ice and snow now Thermal. I suggested. Louis switched to thermal imaging. The station glowed bright against the cold background, heat signatures from our generators and living quarters clearly visible. Can you check the coordinates where I found the snow cat?

I gave him the numbers from my GPS log. Louis entered them, and the image centered on a seemingly empty patch of ice. Nothing unusual appeared in the thermal reading. Try different wavelengths, I suggested. Maybe whatever's there is shielded against standard thermal detection.

Lewis gave me a skeptical look, but adjusted the settings, switching to far infrared. The screen refreshed and we both leaned closer. There it was, a faint but distinct heat signature, roughly circular, about 30 meters in diameter. That's unexpected, Lewis said, his voice carefully neutral. Can you enhance it?

Lewis adjusted the contrast. The heat signature became clearer, a perfect circle with what looked like a straight line extending from it for about 20 meters. A tunnel. I breathed with an entrance. Lewis was already checking other data points.

It only appears on this specific frequency range. Standard thermal imaging misses it completely. He looked up at me. This doesn't prove it's a facility, but there's definitely something there generating heat. Something that matches exactly where I saw the snow cat and the Hatch.

I pointed out. Lewis nodded slowly. We should take this to Commander Luna. She'll think I manipulated the data somehow. Not if I'm the one presenting it.

Lewis countered. And we can show her how to reproduce our findings. I hesitated, then nodded. OK, but let's gather more evidence first. We spent the next hour analyzing satellite passes from different days.

The heat signature appeared consistently, but only on the specific frequency range Lewis had discovered. We also found that the intensity of the heat signature increased on the exact days when the power fluctuations occurred. This is enough to warrant investigation, Lewis finally said, saving all our findings to a secure file. Even the most skeptical scientist would agree something unusual is happening.

We found Commander Luna in her office, reviewing supply inventories. She looked up as we entered, her expression shifting from neutral to concerned when she saw us together. Doctor Tran, Mr. Harvey, what can I do for you? Lewis stepped forward.

Commander, we've discovered something that requires your attention. He connected his tablet to her display screen. We've been analyzing satellite data and found an anomalous heat signature at these coordinates. Luna studied the image, her face unreadable. And these coordinates are significant because they match exactly where Brian reported seeing the snow cat, an underground hatch.

Lewis explained. The signature only appears on specific far infrared frequencies, which is why it wasn't detected before. Luna was silent for a long moment. Then she did something unexpected. She got up and closed her office door, engaging the privacy lock.

Sit down, both of you. She said, her voice lower than usual. We exchanged glances and took seats across from her desk. Luna leaned forward. What I'm about to tell you is classified.

Normally you wouldn't have the clearance, but given the circumstances. She took a deep breath. You're not the first to report this kind of phenomenon. My heart skipped. What do you mean?

Over the past five years, there have been similar reports from three other polar research stations. 2IN Antarctica, one in Greenland, researchers reported seeing vehicles or structures that others couldn't see and that didn't appear on standard monitoring equipment. Louis frowned. Why haven't we heard about this? Because in each case, the researchers were diagnosed with polar isolation syndrome, and the incidents were classified, Luna explained.

But privately, certain government agencies have been investigating. You knew, I said, the realization hitting me. You knew what I saw might be real, but you still had Porter diagnose me with hallucinations. Luna's expression hardened. I followed protocol without corroborating evidence.

We treat these incidents as medical issues first. The psychological toll of Arctic isolation is well documented, but now we have evidence, Lewis pointed out, gesturing to his data. Luna nodded. Yes, which changes things. She turned to her computer and typed rapidly.

I'm authorizing a full investigation. We'll assemble A-Team to examine the site properly. When I asked tomorrow morning, we'll need specialized equipment to detect whatever's out there. Luna looked at me directly. Harvey, I want you to understand something.

If this turns out to be real, it represents a significant security concern. Whoever built this facility has technology that can somehow manipulate perception or recording devices, or both. I added. Exactly, which means we proceed with extreme caution. Luna stood up.

I'll brief the full team in one hour. Until then, this stays between us. As we left Luna's office, I felt a strange mix of vindication and unease. Someone had believed me, finally, but Luna's revelation about other incidents only raised more questions. You OK?

Louis asked as we walked down the corridor. Yeah, just processing. I glanced at him. Thanks for helping me prove this. Louis shrugged.

I followed the evidence. That's what scientists do. An hour later, we all gathered in the main conference room. The entire research team was present. 14 of us squeezed around the table with Commander Luna standing at the head.

The mood was tense. Everyone knew something unusual was happening. Luna got straight to the point. At 800 tomorrow, we will be conducting an official investigation of an anomalous site approximately 3 kilometers from our station. She pulled up Louis's thermal imaging data on the main screen.

Doctor Tran and Mr. Harvey have discovered evidence of what appears to be a hidden structure at these coordinates. Murmurs spread around the table. Melissa shot me a surprise look. This heat signature, Luna continued, corresponds to the location where Harvey reported seeing an unidentified vehicle an underground entrance.

While initial reports were inconclusive, new evidence suggests something is indeed there. Doctor Porter spoke up. Commander, are you saying Brian's experience wasn't a hallucination? I'm saying we have objective data that warrants investigation. Luna replied carefully.

The expedition team will include myself, Doctor Tran, Mr. Harvey, Doctor Porter, and Logan for security. We'll be using specialized detection equipment and maintaining constant communication with base. The briefing continued, with Luna outlining protocols and contingencies. I noticed the others stealing glances at me, some curious, others concerned.

By the time the meeting ended, the station was buzzing with theories and questions. I needed some air. While the others prepared equipment for tomorrow's expedition, I slipped away to the observation deck. The endless white landscape stretched out before me, the perpetual twilight of Arctic winter casting everything in a blue, Gray glow. My eyes automatically went to the spot where the red snow cat had been sitting for days.

I blinked, then leaned closer to the window. It was gone. In its place, a column of steam rose from the ice, billowing upward before dissipating in the frigid air. As I watched, the steam grew thicker, more substantial. What the hell?

I muttered, pressing my face against the glass. Before I could call for anyone else to come look, the lights flickered once, twice, then went out completely. A second later, the emergency lighting kicked in, bathing everything in dim red. The station's alarm system blared to life. Power failure in sectors one through 6.

The automated system announced. Emergency protocols engaged. I turned to head back to the main area when I heard it. A heavy, deliberate pounding. Not from inside the station, but from outside, from the main entrance.

Three loud, distinct impacts that shook the reinforced door in its frame. Then silence. Then three more. Someone or something was knocking to come in. Harvey.

Commander Luna's voice crackled over my radio. Report to the main entrance immediately. I grabbed my radio from my belt on my way. I jogged through the corridors, the emergency lights flashing overhead. The station felt different in the red light, familiar but wrong somehow, like when you walk into your own house and someone's moved all the furniture an inch to the left.

When I reached the main area, Luna was already there with Logan, who had his hand on his holstered sidearm. Lewis stood behind them, looking pale. Melissa and Doctor Porter huddled near the communications station. The rest of the team was scattered around, their faces tense and the red emergency lighting. What's happening?

I asked, slightly out of breath. Luna turned to me, her expression grim. Someone's trying to access the station. The knocking stopped about two minutes ago, Logan said, cutting me off. Now they're trying to operate the external airlock.

My stomach dropped. That's impossible. You need access codes. Logan nodded. That's the problem.

They're using valid codes. The overhead speaker crackled. External airlock cycle initiated, announced the automated system. I didn't authorize this. Luna said, her voice tight.

Holly, check the logs. Who's outside? Holly's fingers flew across her keyboard. System shows all personnel accounted for inside the station, Commander. No scheduled arrivals, no distress signals received.

Could be a system malfunction? Lewis suggested, but his voice lacked conviction. Luna shook her head. Too many coincidences. First Harvey's sighting, then the power failure, now this.

She turned to Logan. Security protocol alpha now. Logan nodded and moved quickly, pulling his weapon from its holster. Everyone back 20 feet, minimum distance from the airlock. The team shuffled backward.

I noticed Ronnie's hands were shaking as he gripped the edge of a desk. Harvey. Luna said, gesturing me closer. You've been right about everything so far. Any thoughts?

I shook my head. I don't know what's out there, Commander. But you think it's connected to what you found? It wasn't a question. Has to be.

Luna nodded and turned to the team. Listen up, we're initiating full lockdown protocols. Holly shut down all non essential systems. Conserve power. Lewis secure the research data, back it up and encrypt it.

Melissa, Doctor Porter, prepare the medical Bay for any contingency. They moved quickly, following her orders without question. External airlock cycle complete. The system announced. Internal airlock cycle initiating.

Logan positioned himself directly in front of the inner airlock door, Weapon raised. Commander, hold position. Luna said, moving to stand beside him. She pulled out her own sidearm, something I'd never seen her do before. Everyone else, stay back and stay quiet.

I should have moved back with the others, but I couldn't. I stepped up beside Luna. Harvey. She warned. With respect.

Commander, I need to see this. She gave me a hard look, then nodded once. Stay behind me. The airlock made a series of mechanical clicks and hisses as the pressure equalized. The red warning light above the door switched to yellow, then green.

Internal airlock cycle complete. The system announced. For a moment, nothing happened. We all stood there, barely breathing, watching the door. Then the handle turned slowly.

Logan adjusted his grip on his weapon. Identify yourself, he shouted. The door opened a crack, then wider. A voice came from inside the airlock. Don't shoot, we're coming out slowly.

My blood went cold. The voice sounded exactly like Logan's. The door swung open fully, and I felt the floor tilt beneath me. Standing in the airlock was Logan Davis. Another Logan Davis, identical to the one standing next to me with his weapon raised.

Behind him stood Commander Luna, wearing the same uniform as our Commander Luna. And behind them I saw myself. 14 people filed out of the airlock, each one an exact duplicate of someone on our team. They wore our station uniforms, had our faces, our builds, even our name badges. The other Brian Harvey, the one who wasn't me, stepped forward, hands raised in a gesture of peace.

We know this is a shock. He said, and it was my voice coming out of his mouth. But we don't have much time. Our Logan kept his weapon trained on them. Don't move any of you.

The other Luna stepped forward, standing beside the other me. Commander Luna. She said, addressing our Luna directly. We understand your caution, but we need to talk, all of us. It's urgent.

Our Luna didn't lower her weapon. Explain now, who are you people? Where are you? The other Luna said simply from a parallel reality. The facility that Brian discovered is our research station, Irene Delta, just like yours.

We've been monitoring your station through what we believe is a dimensional anomaly. Bullshit. Logan muttered the other me. It was so strange to think of him that way. Looked directly at me.

The red snow cat. That's how this started for you, right? You saw it, but no one else could. Not on cameras, not through binoculars. I nodded slowly.

For us it was a blue 1. He continued. 3 months ago, same thing. I was the only one who could see it. When I finally convinced my team to let me investigate, I found your facility an exact replica of ours, but empty.

We've been studying it ever since, trying to understand what was happening. If this is true, our Luna said. Why reveal yourselves now? Why not continue observing? Because we're out of time, the other Luna replied.

Both of our realities are in danger. Our Luna and Logan exchanged glances. After a moment, Luna lowered her weapon slightly. Everyone to the conference room. Now, 20 minutes later, all 28 of us were crammed into the main conference room.

It was surreal, sitting across from myself, watching my own mannerisms mirrored back at me. The other Brian kept running his hand through his hair, exactly like I do when I'm stressed. He had the same small scar on his right knuckle from when I we fell off a bike at age 12. Our Luna stood at the head of the table, her counterpart beside her.

Explain everything? Our Luna demanded. Start with how you got here. The other Luna nodded. The dimensional anomaly we discovered appears to be a natural phenomenon, possibly related to the unique geomagnetic properties at this location.

We've been able to study your reality through it for months, but crossing over physically required significantly more energy. The power fluctuations, Louis said suddenly. That was you. The other Louis nodded. We had to divert massive amounts of power to stabilize the crossing point.

Each attempt created energy surges that affected both our stations. But why crossover at all? Doctor Porter asked. What's so urgent? The other me leaned forward.

Climate degradation in our reality has accelerated beyond anything our models predicted. 3 weeks ago, we detected a massive methane pocket beneath our station. 2 days ago, it began to rupture. We had to evacuate the other Luna continued. But before we left, we realized something critical.

The methane pocket exists in both our realities. It's going to rupture here too. And soon. A heavy silence fell over the room. Like I looked at my counterpart, searching his face for any sign of deception, but all I saw was exhaustion and fear, The same expression I'd seen in the mirror countless times over the past few days.

You have proof of this? Our Luna asked. The other me nodded and pulled out a tablet. Ice core samples from both realities. The data is conclusive.

He passed the tablet to Lewis, who studied it with his counterpart, looking over his shoulder. This can't be right. Our Lewis muttered, scrolling through the data. These methane levels are off the charts, The other Louis finished. We know.

Our Louis looked up, his face pale. Commander, if this data is accurate, we're sitting on top of a methane pocket that could release over 50 gigatons of gas into the atmosphere within days. An extinction level event, the other Louis added grimly. Doctor Porter shook her head. But our sensors haven't detected anything like this because you're not looking in the right spectrum, the other Porter replied.

We modified our equipment after we found the first indicators. Your standard sensors aren't calibrated to detect it until it's too late. Our Luna studied the other team carefully. Let's say I believe you. What do you propose we do?

The other Luna straightened. We combine our research. Your team has been taking a different approach to climate modeling than ours. We've reviewed your data through the anomaly, and you've made breakthroughs we haven't. Together we might be able to develop a stabilization method.

And if we can't? Logan asked. Then at least we tried. His counterpart replied. Our Luna was quiet for a long moment, considering.

Finally, she nodded. Louis, verify their data. If it checks out, we proceed with full cooperation. She turned to the other Luna. But my team stays armed, and you remain under observation at all times, understood?

The other Luna nodded. Understood. Over the next few hours. Both teams worked frantically to verify the data and begin developing a response plan. I found myself working directly with my counterpart, which was the strangest experience of my life.

We fell into an odd rhythm, finishing each other's sentences and having entire conversations with just a look. So the red snow cat, I said as we reviewed seismic data together, was our vehicle. He confirmed We parked it near the anomaly access point. For some reason, it was visible to you when nothing else from our side was.

Why me? Why could only I see it? He shrugged. We have theories. Maybe because we're the same person, there's some kind of quantum entanglement between us, or maybe it's just random chance.

We don't fully understand how the anomaly works. I nodded, processing this and the underground facility I found that was your station. Yes and no. What you experienced was a kind of overlap between our realities. You weren't physically in our station, but you weren't entirely in your reality either.

That's why your radio lost signal, and why you disappeared from your team sensors and the monitoring screens I saw with footage of me. We've been studying your team, trying to understand the differences between our realities, hoping to find something that might explain why the climate degradation accelerated so much faster in our world.

He paused. We never intended to interfere, we just wanted to learn. I believed him. It was hard not to. He was me, after all.

By midnight, both teams had verified the methane pocket data and confirmed the imminent threat. The ice cores from the other reality showed a catastrophic rupture pattern that matched the early warning signs our Lewis had just detected in new samples in the main lab, both teams gathered around a holographic model of the ice shelf beneath the station.

The methane is trapped here, the other Lewis explained, pointing to a massive pocket glowing red in the model. In our reality, it began venting here, here, and here 3 days ago. The full rupture followed within 48 hours. Our Lewis nodded. We're seeing the same preliminary venting patterns now.

Based on your timeline, we have maybe 36 hours before critical failure. So what's the solution? Our Luna asked. The other me stepped forward. We've developed a two-part approach.

First, controlled release through precision drilling at these coordinates. He highlighted several points on the model. Second, a chemical stabilization compound injected into the surrounding ice structure. The compound is something we developed, the other Melissa added. But we never had the chance to synthesize enough of it before we had to evacuate.

Our Melissa nodded. I've reviewed the formula. We can produce it here with the equipment we have. It's going to take all of us working together, the other Luna said around the clock. Our Luna surveyed both teams.

Then let's get to work. For the next 24 hours, the station buzzed with activity as both teams work together seamlessly. It was strange how quickly we adapted to having our double s around. By morning, people were casually distinguishing between our Lewis and their Lewis. Without batting an eye.

I worked with my counterpart on the drilling coordinates, using our combined knowledge of the ice shelf to identify the optimal release points. It was like having the world's most efficient research partner, someone who thought exactly like me but had slightly different experiences and insights. You know? I said during a rare quiet moment.

I spent days thinking I was losing my mind when I saw that snow cat. He smiled my smile. In my reality, they had me on psychiatric medication for two weeks after I reported seeing the Blue 1. Porter was convinced it was isolation syndrome. Same here.

Yes, we're both stubborn enough not to let it go. I laughed. Guess so. By the following evening, we were ready. Both teams gathered at the drilling site 2 miles from the station.

The temperature had dropped to 42 Daikzune rast and the wind whipped snow around us as we set up the equipment. Drill team ready. Our Luna called over the radio. Ready. Logan and his counterpart confirmed stabilization.

Team ready. Both Melissa's responded, monitoring team all sensors online, Lewis reported. We're good to go. The drilling began, a high pitched wine cutting through the howling wind. I stood with my counterpart, monitoring pressure readings as the drill descended toward the methane pocket approaching target depth.

Logan announced after 20 minutes. Pressure rising. I reported watching the numbers climb on my tablet, still within acceptable parameters. Stabilization compound ready for injection, Melissa called. The drill hit the pocket with a sudden hiss that we could hear even over the wind.

Methane levels spiked on our sensors. Controlled release initiated, Logan confirmed. Pressure dropping. Inject the stabilization compound now, our Luna ordered. For the next hour, we worked in perfect coordination, drilling at multiple points around the pocket, releasing the pressure gradually while injecting the stabilization compound into the surrounding ice structure.

The wind grew stronger and the temperature dropped further, but no one suggested stopping. Finally, Lewis looked up from his sensors with a smile. Methane level stabilizing, pressure normalizing across all monitoring points. The ice structure is accepting the compound, the other Melissa added. Solidification proceeding as expected, A cheer went up from both teams.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see my counterparts smiling at me. We did it, he said. We did, I agreed, feeling a weight lift that I hadn't even realized I was carrying. Back at the station, both teams gathered in the mess hall. The mood was celebratory but subdued.

We were all exhausted, running on adrenaline and coffee. Our Luna stood, raising her mug to both teams. What we accomplished today wasn't just about saving our stations. If that methane pocket had ruptured fully, the climate impact would have been catastrophic on a global scale. In our reality, it was already too late by the time we understood what was happening, the other Luna added.

But together, we prevented the same fate here. So what happens now? I asked, looking at my counterpart. Do you go back? He exchanged glances with his Luna before answering.

We can't. The anomaly is collapsing. Our reality is, well, it's not sustainable anymore. The damage was too extensive. You're staying here?

Our Luna asked. The other Luna nodded. If you'll have us, we can contribute, continue our research alongside yours. Our Luna considered this for a moment, then nodded. We'll need to contact headquarters, explain the situation.

It won't be simple, but after what we've accomplished together, I think we can make a compelling case. Later, as both teams began settling in for some much needed rest, I found myself alone with my counterpart on the observation deck. The Aurora borealis danced across the sky, green and purple ribbons shimmering against the darkness.

It's strange, I said. A week ago, I thought I was losing my mind. Now I'm standing next to myself and somehow that feels completely normal. He laughed. Nothing about this is normal.

True. I paused, watching the lights shift overhead. You know, I keep thinking about how this all started with me seeing something no one else could see. If I just accepted Porter's diagnosis. If I'd taken those pills and stopped pushing, both our worlds would be facing disaster.

He finished. Sometimes being stubborn pays off being. I nodded, thinking about everything that had happened. The red snow cat that only I could see, the underground facility that was both there and not there. The identical teams from two different realities working together to prevent catastrophe.

Maybe the universe was trying to warn us, I said, using whatever means it could. Maybe he agreed. Or maybe some things just can't be explained. We stood in comfortable silence, watching the Aurora. For the first time in days, I felt at peace.

The strange mirroring hadn't been a threat or a sign. I was losing my mind. It had been the universe's way of preventing disaster.