Rainwater seeped into the ventilation ducts, condensing into charged droplets on the metallic surfaces. My consciousness clung to the water molecules, infiltrating toward level B18 through the underground drainage system. The advantage of a quantum state became evident—I could sense every silicon-based lifeform within each raindrop, nanoscopic scouts deployed by the lab.
As I crossed the seventh electromagnetic barrier, an encrypted video from my memory bank began playing automatically:
March 14, 2085, 23:00:00, surveillance footage from level eighteen underground.
The real Veronica was strapped to an operating table, the gray-suited man implanting twelve biochips into her spine. When the seventh chip pierced her skin, she suddenly opened her eyes, her pupils an unnatural silver-blue.
"Elias..." Her voice carried a synthetic tone, "Don't come..."
The frame shook violently as VK-7, clad in protective gear, burst into the operating room, destroying the surveillance camera with a laser cutter. In the final frame, I saw blood-smeared words carved beneath the operating table—"Mirrors are doors."
The vibration of the drainpipe jolted me awake. Ahead, dense breathing sounds echoed. These weren't human breaths but rhythmic pulses resembling some kind of air pump system. When I reached the filter grate, my quantum perception revealed a suffocating sight:
Within a thirty-meter-wide circular space, twelve cylindrical cultivation pods were arranged. Inside the pale blue nutrient fluid floated the bodies of Veronicas, their hair connected to fiber-optic conduits, their skin occasionally flickering with the faint glow of operational chips.
But the most terrifying aspect was the overlapping "breathing" sounds. Each cultivation pod was linked to a quantum respirator, converting the clones' vital signs into quantum signals—the very energy source sustaining my consciousness.
VK-7's pod was empty, its interface dangling severed neural conduits. The surface log showed abnormal neural activity 23 hours ago, 700% more active than the other clones.
Suddenly, all the pods synchronized their breathing rates.
Twelve Veronicas opened their eyes simultaneously, their silver-blue pupils turning toward the drainage pipe exit where I was located. They opened their mouths, emitting ultrasonic waves at the same frequency, causing the water inside the pipe to boil.
"Error code Q-12, quantum intruder detected."
Before the security system's mechanical voice finished, four mechanical spiders descended from the ceiling, their compound eyes emitting red scanning beams. I manipulated the nano-water droplets into mirror matrices, redirecting their attacks toward each other. As the spiders short-circuited in mutual assault, I leapt into the nearest cable amid the bursting sparks.
My consciousness burned in the electric current, losing quantum bits rapidly. When I crashed into the main control system of level B18, my remaining existence time had shortened to 39 hours.
The holographic screen lit up automatically, displaying a chilling image—Veronica, the real one, imprisoned in a glass column at the center of the circular lab. Quantum conduits connected her temples, and fiber-optic threads like spider webs linked her to the twelve cloning pods.
The projection of the gray-suited man operated the console: "Neural synchronization rate at 98%, preparing for the final phase of consciousness harvesting."
Veronica suddenly looked up. Though her lips were sealed by a restraint, her eyes transmitted clear Morse code:
"Cut conduit C7."
I followed the direction of her gaze. The seventh pod's conduit glowed with an anomalous red light. This was VK-7's original position, now connected to some external device.
Suddenly, alarms blared throughout the space.
"Warning! Prototype consciousness backflow detected!"
Veronica's pupils erupted in blazing blue light, and all the cloning pods exploded with electrical sparks. The gray-suited man frantically operated the console, but the retaliatory quantum pulse had already invaded his equipment through the conduits.
Seizing the moment of chaos, I injected my consciousness into conduit C7. Amid the data torrent, countless fragments of memory surrounded me:
VK-7 crawling through the ventilation ducts, the mechanical spider's compound eyes reflecting the barcode on her neck;
My corpse in the incinerator suddenly opening its eyes, quantum codes flickering in its irises;
The real Veronica struggling on the operating table, biting her finger to write a bloody message inside the pod...
When the memory storm subsided, I found myself trapped within Veronica's neural circuits. Here, cracks of dual memories abounded—the left side showed our first kiss in the university lab, while the right displayed the cold surgical lights illuminating the gray-suited man implanting chips into her brain.
"Elias?"
The real Veronica's voice came from the cracks in memory. Her consciousness appeared thinner than in reality, her wrists scarred with data port marks.
"This is the intersection of neural networks," she touched the void, summoning a mirror, "We have only three minutes before they..."
The mirror suddenly reflected the image of twelve clones breaking out of their pods, armed with laser cutters charging toward the central lab. The gray-suited man activated the emergency shield, but VK-7 pierced the energy barrier with a bloodied mechanical arm.
"Listen," Veronica reached into the mirror, retrieving a glowing quantum chip, "This is my free will backup, hidden in the seventh clone pod for three years. Insert it into the host's C7 interface, and it can..."
The alarm tore through space, and Veronica's consciousness began to pixelate. Before vanishing completely, she pressed the chip into my quantum core: "Remember, our first meeting wasn't at the party... it was in..."
My consciousness was ejected from the neural network, crashing back into the main console of level B18. In my hand lay a prismatic chip, inscribed with "Consciousness Seed v7.0."
The clones' rebellion escalated. VK-7 engaged the security robots with an electromagnetic pulse gun. The gray-suited man attempted to transfer Veronica's prototype, but the quantum lock on the transport pod recognized my biometric signature.
"No!" He roared, firing at me, "You can't activate the seed chip!"
An electromagnetic pulse shattered the main console, fracturing my consciousness. Before total collapse, I hurled the chip toward the C7 interface. The prismatic crystal disintegrated mid-air into countless points of light, precisely slotting into the host port.
Absolute silence fell over the entire level eighteen.
Immediately after, the breathing sounds from all the pods ceased. The clones collectively collapsed to their knees, their silver-blue pupils shifting to amber—the true color of Veronica's eyes.
VK-7 was the first to stand. She tore off the blue diamond necklace around her neck, revealing the genuine wedding ring underneath: "Memory anchors reset, initiating Dawn Protocol."
The twelve clones turned simultaneously, launching an assault on the gray-suited man. Their attacks carried calculated cruelty, dismantling his quantum prosthetics. As his mechanical heart was exposed to the air, VK-7 pressed the electromagnetic pulse gun to his forehead:
"The time you stole from the future needs to be returned."
At the gunshot, the man tore off his synthetic face—revealing my own features. Me, twenty years older.
"You'll never... escape this loop..." Before the mechanical heart of my future self stopped beating, the lab's dome suddenly became transparent.
Under the stormy night sky, pier 17 of the Golden Gate Bridge was glowing. The light perfectly matched the coordinates left by Veronica, and a massive quantum equation emerged on the metal surface of the bridge—precisely the missing page from my thesis.
VK-7 approached me, her pupils fully human now: "We were born from your fear of immortality, but what truly endures is..." She pointed to the prototype machine holding Veronica, "Her soul that persisted until the very last moment."
Suddenly, all the clones began trembling in sync. The biochips beneath their skin exploded one by one, blood gushing from their orifices. VK-7 grabbed my quantum consciousness, injecting it into the prototype's neural interface:
"The seed chip needs a vessel... tell her from three years ago..."
Her voice was swallowed by the explosion.
I lost consciousness amidst violent data migration, my last perception being the faint tremor of Veronica's prototype fingers. Fluorescent blue liquid seeped from her temple interface, resonating perfectly with my quantum frequency.
When consciousness awakened again, I viewed the world through Veronica's eyes. Her body had become my host, our memories intertwining at the synaptic level. The main console screen reflected a breathtaking image—my quantum consciousness enveloped her body like blue flames, while her true consciousness slumbered deep within the chip.
Alarms sounded again, but this time from the direction of the Golden Gate Bridge. Quantum radar indicated a massive energy reaction within the pier, resonating with the wedding ring in my hand.
From the remains of VK-7 rose a holographic projection—a record from three days ago:
The real Veronica, blood-soaked, hid inside the pier, encoding information onto a waterproof chip. She smiled into her wristwatch camera, the same mischievous grin from when we first met in the lab:
"When you see this, it means my corpse has successfully deceived them. Remember, Elias, our love isn't a program..."
A tsunami warning abruptly drowned her voice. Towering waves smashed through the lab's floor-to-ceiling windows. In the salty seawater, I held Veronica's body, floating toward the surface, my quantum consciousness flickering in the waves.
The remains of the twelve clones sank behind us, like electronic tombstones plunging into the abyss. And in my arms, Veronica's prototype lashes fluttered slightly, the consciousness seed within the chip beginning to sprout.