The White Void

Whiteness. Infinite, sterile, oppressive whiteness. It enveloped Gerda, leaching the world of color and form. The ceiling, smooth and featureless, vanished somewhere in the heights above. Beneath her, she felt a cold, hard surface. She tried to move, but her body remained unresponsive, as if bound by invisible chains. What's happening? The thought echoed in her mind, lost in the white void.

Around her, like phantoms, figures in white coats moved. Their faces were hidden behind masks, their movements fluid and silent. They leaned over her, examining her body with a cold, detached curiosity. Their gazes, though obscured by the glass of their masks, seemed to penetrate her, dissecting her piece by piece.

They paid particular attention to her hair – black as pitch, with vibrant green tips. One of them carefully separated a strand and held it up to the light. What are they looking for? Gerda struggled to focus, to grasp some meaning in what was happening, but her thoughts tangled like threads in a knot.

Suddenly, one of the figures in a white coat clenched a glowing sphere in his hand, similar to the ones she had seen before. For a moment, the air around him shimmered, and then he vanished without a trace. The others paid no attention, continuing their manipulations.

Gerda realized with surprise that they were speaking different languages. Snippets of phrases in unfamiliar tongues mingled with isolated words she could understand – "anomaly," "mutation," "energy." But she couldn't piece them together into a coherent picture.

She tried to turn her head, to survey the room. With great effort, overcoming the numbness, she managed to move her neck slightly. And then true horror gripped her.

The whiteness seemed concentrated solely on the ceiling. The walls were far from sterile. On metal tables, stretching along the walls, lay… bodies. Mutilated, disfigured, dead bodies. Some were human, others belonged to creatures she had never seen before. Their skin was various shades – from grey to violet – and their bodies were covered in scales, fur, or chitinous shells.

Where am I? The thought pierced her consciousness like an icy shard. What is this place?

She closed her eyes, trying to shield herself from the horrific sight, but the images of the dead continued to flash before her inner eye. The smell of blood and decay hung heavy in the air, making her nauseous.

The voices around her didn't cease. They argued, debated, putting forward hypotheses and assumptions. Gerda caught fragments of phrases – "unstable energy," "potential threat," "necessity of elimination."

They're talking about me, she realized. They consider me a threat.

Fear, cold and clammy, gripped her from head to toe. She tried to scream, to warn them that she wasn't an enemy, but only a hoarse groan escaped her throat.

One of the figures in a white coat approached her and took her hand. His touch was cold and lifeless, like the touch of steel. He brought a strange device, resembling a scalpel, to her arm, and Gerda felt a sharp pain.

She opened her eyes and saw dark, almost black blood flowing from a small incision in her skin. The figure collected it in a test tube and moved to a microscope.

Gerda lay there, unable to move, and watched him examine her blood. In his eyes, though hidden behind the glass of his mask, she saw the cold curiosity of a scientist studying an unusual specimen.

Time stretched endlessly. Gerda lost track of minutes, hours. The figures in white coats continued their experiments, paying her no attention. She was merely a research subject, a lab rat.

Suddenly, a sharp, piercing sound filled the room. The lights flickered and then died, plunging the room into complete darkness. Gerda felt a tremor run through her body, and the smell of ozone filled the air.

What's happening? She tried to understand, but her thoughts were muddled, and her consciousness began to fade. She felt herself being pulled into a dark, bottomless void, and her last thought was: Grandfather…