Chapter 2

Day 1

Alex stood at the threshold of his new reality. The small, sturdy house provided to him seemed to be an adequate fortress against the harsh Mongolian winds and occasional storms. Inside, he found a cot, basic cooking utensils, a rifle with limited bullets, and a manual titled *Basic Skills for Survival*. Cameras lined the perimeter of the house, their lenses tracking his every move. He didn't know who was watching, but the agreement had been made. He had volunteered for this research willingly, even if it meant isolation for months.

The first day felt like an adventure. Alex marked the date on the wall with his knife and began to familiarize himself with his new surroundings. The sky stretched out endlessly, the landscape vast and desolate. In a strange way, it was beautiful. As the hours passed, however, the reality of his isolation began to set in. There were no sounds of cars, no voices—just him and the emptiness.

That night, as he sat by a small fire cooking canned food, he tried to push aside the uneasy feeling that gnawed at him. He had promised his sister he would return. This was only temporary.

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Day 10

The days blurred together. His routine consisted of marking the wall, cooking, exploring the nearby forest, and practicing survival skills. The supplies provided were dwindling, and the lake nearby had become his primary source of water. He learned to purify it using methods from the manual.

Loneliness gnawed at him. The once-peaceful silence now felt oppressive. Each night, before the fire died out, he would picture his sister's face, her smile, her voice urging him to stay strong. It was the only thing keeping him going.

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Day 50

Supplies were running out faster than anticipated. Canned food was dwindling, and the plants he grew from seeds were insufficient. Alex started hunting with the rifle. His initial attempts were failures, but he adapted quickly. The forest, once a vast unknown, became a place of opportunity. Small game like rabbits and birds became his staple.

He stopped counting days precisely and began marking significant milestones—his first successful hunt, his first self-made fire, and moments when he lost himself in survival rather than memories of home. His thoughts shifted from his old life to the here and now.

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Year 1

A year had passed. Alex had transformed. His body was lean and strong, his skin weathered, and his mind sharper. Isolation had hardened him, but also given him a strange sense of peace. The cameras, once invasive, were now a background detail.

His hunts were more successful, and his garden yielded a modest harvest. The rifle, once his primary tool, was now a backup. Alex fashioned spears from available resources and became a more adept hunter. His survival was no longer about just making it through the day but thriving in the wilderness.

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Year 2

By the second year, Alex had stopped thinking about the research. His days were filled with purpose. He woke before dawn, checked traps, patrolled the perimeter, and fished in the lake. The routines that once seemed like chores had become second nature.

Yet, loneliness still haunted him. Nights were the hardest. Despite his progress, he missed human contact. He spoke aloud to himself, imagining conversations with his sister, planning what he would say when he finally saw her again.

He had become part of the landscape, but his thoughts continually returned to one question—how much longer would this last? How much longer until he could leave and find his sister?

He marked the second year on the wall. The once-pristine surface was now filled with tallies. Alex gazed at them, wondering how many more he would add before he could return to the world.

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Two years into his solitude, Alex's routine was abruptly disrupted. As he emerged from the house one morning, he saw a figure at the edge of the fence, beyond his crops. The early light cast long shadows, and Alex squinted to make out the figure.

"Hey! Why are you here?" Alex called out, trying to keep his voice steady. "Did someone send you?"

He approached cautiously. The figure remained motionless, its movements jerky and unnatural. As Alex drew closer, he realized it was a ragged man with dirt-caked clothes. The man's eyes were vacant, and he clutched a knife in a shaky hand.

Panic surged through Alex. "Who… who are you?" he whispered. The figure did not respond.

Suddenly, the man lurched forward, his movements aggressive and erratic. Alex stepped back, gripping his own knife. The figure's attack was wild, and Alex barely managed to evade it. The man's face was pale, his eyes empty.

Instinct took over. Alex swung his knife, hitting the figure's arm. The man didn't falter. Alex swung again, this time aiming for the neck. The figure staggered and fell, blood pooling around him.

Alex stood there, his heart pounding. He had just killed a person—if it could be called that. The figure's skin was cold and discolored, its eyes vacant. Alex stumbled back, the weight of his actions crashing down on him.

He rushed into the house, grabbing the communication device. "Hello? Is anyone there? Something's wrong… There was a man—no, not a man… I need help! What's going on?!"

Silence. Static was the only response. He tried repeatedly, but there was no answer.

Frustrated, Alex slammed the device down. The cameras continued to watch, recording everything, but no one came. He was truly alone. The world outside had changed, and he hadn't even known it.

Feeling the isolation more acutely than ever, Alex realized he could no longer stay. He needed answers. He pulled out the map provided to him. The distant locations marked on it now seemed like his only hope.

Packing what he could carry, Alex marked one final day on the wall. He grabbed his knife—the same one used in the fight. It was stained now, a reminder of what had happened and what lay ahead.

With one last look at his home, Alex stepped outside, embarking on a journey into the unknown.