The Red Base felt different after that.
Maybe it was the video files—those strange glimpses of the future. Maybe it was seeing myself on screen. Or maybe it was the way Sam started acting afterward.
Avoidant. Guarded.
Whenever we crossed paths in the hallway, she'd find a reason to turn around, answer a fake phone call, or duck into a room she didn't need to be in.
And it wasn't just her.
Tanner started mumbling about weird stuff too.
"I swear that poster wasn't there yesterday," he said, pointing at the old Hi5 Productions sign outside the editing room.
Matt looked up from the drive files. "That sign's been there for two years, dude."
"No. No, I mean… it was torn last week. It had water damage. Now it's like… perfect."
Bailey chimed in from across the room. "Okay, but what about the hallway clock?"
We all turned.
She was right.
The digital wall clock flicked from 2:13 PM to 2:17 PM in an instant.
Four minutes. Gone.
"What the hell is happening here?" I muttered, watching the blinking numbers.
Matt stood, tense now. "I don't know if it's some tech glitch, or if we're being—"
"—messed with," Tanner finished.
But I was already walking down the hallway, toward the old storage room where it all began. Something was pulling at me. A hum in the air. A… pressure.
I pushed open the door—and stopped.
The boxes had been moved.
Shelves reorganized.
And on the table sat a folder. Black. With a red seal.
My name was written on the front.
WOOD, A.A. – S5
Sam's voice behind me made me jump. "You weren't supposed to see that."
I turned. "You knew about this?"
She closed the door behind her. "Athan, listen—there's a reason you were hired. It wasn't just for editing. Or filming. Or YouTube."
"What are you talking about?"
She walked past me, picked up the folder, then hesitated.
And dropped it.
Papers spilled across the floor. Printed stills from the security videos. Medical reports. Something labeled "Phantom Testing Protocols." And at the very top…
A birth certificate.
Mine.
Except it wasn't mine.
The name said Athan Allen Wood, but the file said:
"Subject 5 was activated August 2nd, 2025. Unknown prior timeline. Possible residual memory conflict."
"Sam," I whispered, "what is this?"
She looked at me, and for the first time since I started working at Red Base, she didn't seem strong. Or sarcastic. Or confident.
She seemed terrified.
"I think you've been here before," she said. "I think you never left."