I wasn’t supposed to survive tonight.
Yet I’m still here.
It’s past midnight.
I’m sitting in the center of a train car speeding toward Berlin — and I swear the stars outside the window are moving in reverse.
Something changed.
Something broke open.
Let me explain.
The Mirror Gate
At 9:38 PM, I followed the instructions Elara gave me — the ones from the voice that wasn’t quite her. I took the old metronome chip to a locksmith, a quiet old man who barely made eye contact, and asked him to decode the engravings.
He didn’t even blink. Just said:
“You’re not the first you to ask.”
He opened a drawer and handed me something I hadn’t seen in over a decade.
A black key with the numbers 0331 carved into the handle.
I recognized it instantly.
It was the key to the house my parents died in.
The house that burned down in March 2031 — or so I thought.
He gestured toward the alley behind his shop.
“It’ll be open. Just remember — the mirror always shows who’s watching.”
I thought he was speaking in riddles.
I wish he was.
I followed the alley until I reached a rusted metal door with a cracked square of glass in the middle. It didn’t lead to a room — it led to a single, freestanding mirror, suspended in an empty space surrounded by scaffolding.
The kind of surreal installation you’d expect in an abandoned art gallery… or a memory that no longer belongs to this world.
The moment I stepped closer, my phone buzzed violently.
One new photo message. No sender.
A new death photo.
Except this time, it wasn’t just me.
It was me… and him.
The Smiling Man
In the photo, I’m lying on the ground. Eyes wide. A smear of blood from my temple.
Standing over me is a man wearing a gray hoodie, hands in his pockets.
His face is mine.
But he’s smiling.
Not with warmth. Not with relief.
With calculation.
Like someone who has practiced being human but never quite got it right.
I turned to leave — instinct screaming at me to run.
But the mirror shifted.
And there he was.
On the other side.
Same eyes. Same scar. Same grin.
He raised a hand and pointed directly at me.
Then mouthed the words:
“Too late. She made her choice.”
The mirror cracked.
From the inside.
Berlin Arrival
I boarded the midnight train to Berlin not knowing what to expect — only that I had no choice anymore.
The loop wasn’t just a reset mechanism.
It was a containment field.
And I’ve been leaking out of it.
All my fragments — past lives, alternate decisions, versions of me that chose violence, or silence, or madness — they’re waking up.
And the one that smiles?
He wants control.
Because in his version of the story, he finishes what I started.
The Three Constants
Elara’s voice echoed in my mind:
“One dies. One remembers. One resets.”
Until now, I assumed I was the one who remembers.
But maybe not.
Maybe I’m the one who resets — again and again — endlessly trying to fix what one version of me broke.
And if that’s true…
Then the Smiling Man is the one who remembers.
Because he never stopped.
He never forgot.
He’s been the one sending the messages, the photos, the maps — guiding me to this moment so he can complete the overwrite.
So he can become the only version left.
The Final Puzzle
At exactly 12:37 AM, my phone received another file.
Audio only.
Six seconds long.
“Version 52 reached convergence. Final fork initiated. Prepare for merge.”
That was an hour ago.
And now, as the train begins to slow and the station sign reads “Hauptbahnhof,” I realize something:
There is no final version.
Only the one that survives the collapse.
Message to whoever’s next:
If you see yourself smile…
Run.
To be continued…
Rise Between Realities 
Leave a comment