At the center of the artificial garden, 1011206 sat still, wearing a white hospital gown fluttering in the wind.
Above her, a vast dome curved endlessly, lined with LED lights that mimicked a soft, moonlit sky. A faint mist lingered in the air, diffusing the glow into something almost dreamlike.
Beautiful.
Convincing.
False.
Her hair swayed gently with the artificial breeze. It wasn't real—none of it was—but it felt real enough to almost forget.
Almost.
A faint creaking sound broke the silence.
Her head tilted slightly.
The sound shifted into a soft rustle.
Her eyes followed it.
A person in a guard uniform stood at a distance.
Without rising, she raised her hand, tilting her head in a silent question.
She knew the man. It was Amran.
Why are you here?
"Patrolling," he replied calmly. "Making sure all clones are in their designated locations."
She studied him for a moment.
Then nodded once.
"Okay."
To others, it was an affirmation about the clones. However, between them, they knew it was about the blueprints and layouts.
She turned back, settling beneath the artificial moon.
But the calm didn't last.
A cough echoed from inside.
1011206 rose immediately.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," came the reply. "4180114 has a cold."
Another cough followed—harsher this time.
"It might be sinusitis," 2100110 added.
The guard's posture shifted.
"I'll check on her."
He turned and walked across the grass.
1011206 felt a flicker of worry—and followed.
Inside, the atmosphere changed instantly.
Still. Controlled.
4180114 was resting on her bed, while the others took turns helping her—and making plans.
They were allowed to move around, continuing the previous arrangement of surprise access to different locations.
Whether it was meant to give them a sense of freedom—or to monitor their movements more closely—
No one knew.
But it gave the clones ideas.
Ideas of escape.
Of breaking out of the golden cage that had slowly morphed from a prison into something far more deceptive.
Controlled.
Measured.
Every movement held purpose.
Their plan was already in motion.
4180114's illness had become the perfect cover.
They rotated carefully—never all at once.
One attended.
One moved.
One passed information.
Nothing was wasted.
4180114 lay curled slightly, her breathing uneven.
"I feel like I could gouge my right eye out," she muttered weakly. "The pain… it spreads across the entire right side."
She pressed her temple.
"And the heaviness… it makes me want to pull my hair out."
"It's okay," 2100110 said gently, holding her hand. "It'll get better—with proper food and medicine."
3150512 stood nearby, watching closely.
Thinking.
"It's strange," she murmured. "They control everything—our food, our environment… almost everything."
A pause.
"And yet… we still fall sick."
Silence settled.
The question lingered—unspoken, but heavy in the air.
Then—
A subtle movement.
A folded note slipped into 4180114's hand.
"From 6260818 ," 3150512 whispered.
Inside it—
Fazil's location.
"Zara has taken the bait," 3150512 murmured.
A beat.
"But our sister… is loyal to us."
Footsteps approached.
Everything stilled.
1011206 entered after checking the area for informants, a guard beside her.
"Girls," she said calmly, "this is Amran." She gestured toward him. "And Amran… these are the clones."
Amran nodded.
But his gaze lingered.
Because every face in the room—
Was Zara's.
Not identical.
But unmistakably hers.
Variations of the same origin.
Watching.
Thinking.
Hiding.
"How is 4180114 ?" 1011206 asked. "Her condition seemed to be improving."
4180114 turned slightly.
"Better than before," she said faintly. "However… I have a fever now. It's due to the sore throat."
"She's been resting," 2100110 added.
Amran stepped forward, handing over a strip of tablets.
"For the fever. Make sure she takes them."
His tone was neutral.
Controlled.
Unrevealing.
But he noticed everything.
The glances.
The timing.
The rhythm beneath their actions.
The notes.
He saw them.
And still—
He said nothing.
Because this wasn't the first time something had felt wrong.
His thoughts drifted—
To her.
Hayat.
And their recent conversation.
She had been opening up to him. Trusting him.
"I am Hayat," she had said.
Calm.
Steady.
"I didn't know either… how we ended up here."
She remembered the confusion.
Others panicking.
Voices trembling.
"Bhai… where are you?" Noor had called out—her voice unfamiliar.
Fazil had been too sleepy to notice at first.
Then—
"Ayva…" he responded.
But not in his own voice.
A girl's voice.
That was when he understood—
Something was deeply wrong.
"They're in different bodies," Hayat had said. "Same minds… different forms."
"Who are you—?"
Then realization struck.
"Bhai…"
Her eyes widened.
"I guess we isekai'd."
There had been a strange mix of relief and confusion on her face.
At least she wasn't alone.
Now, the only problem was—
To figure out which story they had entered.
Fazil, still half-asleep, muttered, "Stop spouting nonsense. Go back to sleep—it's 3 a.m."
He checked the phone.
It wasn't his.
Yet it felt familiar.
Hayat, a light sleeper, was already awake.
The realization left her speechless.
They were truly in different bodies.
"What it is—we don't know yet."
A pause.
"But we will find out."
The memory faded.
Back to the present.
Back to the room filled with Zara's faces.
Back to the quiet rebellion forming beneath control.
The clones were taken care of.
Officially.
They were fed. Maintained. Observed.
On paper—
Everything was perfect.
But the project had begun to shift.
Not structurally.
Morally.
The researchers had started to question it.
Quietly.
Carefully.
Enough to hesitate.
Enough to withdraw.
Monitoring reduced.
Checks became less frequent.
Attention less precise.
The system still existed—
But its grip had weakened.
And in that gap—
Opportunity emerged.
3150512 adjusted the blanket.
A small movement.
A signal.
Amran saw it.
Understood it.
Ignored it.
"Does Zara know?" 1011206 asked suddenly.
Amran didn't answer immediately.
"Zara knows what she needs to know," he said finally.
Not a lie—just the truth.
4180114 coughed again.
This time—
Not entirely controlled.
Pain flickered across her face.
Real.
Unplanned.
Amran noticed.
Of course he did.
"Continue care," he said. "Monitor her condition."
He stepped back.
Then turned.
Walking toward the exit.
He should have left.
That would have been expected.
But he paused.
Just for a moment.
"Don't rush," he said quietly.
The words were simple.
But they lingered.
3150512 frowned.
2100110 stilled.
Amran didn't turn back.
"If you move too soon…"
A brief pause.
"…you won't make it."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Unanswered.
Then he walked out.
The door slid shut behind him.
For a moment, no one spoke.
"He knows," 3150512 said quietly.
"Yes," 2100110 replied.
1011206 remained still.
Her eyes fixed on the door.
Thinking.
Calculating.
"Was that a warning…" 2100110 murmured,
"…or help?"
No one answered.
1011206 remained silent—despite hoarding the blueprints he had given her.
4180114 shifted weakly, her breath uneven.
The pain was harder to hide now.
"We don't stop," 1011206 said finally.
"We wait."
Her voice calm.
Certain.
"We adapt."
Outside, the artificial garden remained silent.
Beautiful.
Controlled.
But inside—
Something had already begun to change.