Chapter 6: Inhuman-6

The room was dimly lit, a sterile, metallic chamber deep within the research facility. The artificial lighting buzzed softly, flickering erratically, casting sharp shadows on the smooth, reflective walls. The air smelled of antiseptic and something faintly metallic. The room was cold, the temperature controlled to a clinical degree, devoid of comfort, as if designed to strip away any illusion of warmth or humanity. The walls were seamless, unyielding, trapping them within a space where time felt frozen.

A low hum emanated from unseen machines embedded in the structure of the facility, their function unknown but ever-present, a quiet reminder that they were being watched, recorded, evaluated. The floor was a pristine white, yet it carried an unnatural gloss, reflecting the fluorescent lights in jagged fragments that distorted their silhouettes. In the corner, a heavy metal suitcase lay open, its contents partially spilled.....cloning records, identification documents, and a single, gleaming knife.

Zen-Zero Clone stood rigidly, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. His hands were clenched into tight fists, his knuckles pale, as if grasping at something unseen, something slipping away. He could feel the weight of his existence pressing down on him, crushing him under the realization that he was not alone, not in the way humans usually weren't alone, but in a way that felt suffocating, unnatural. He had lived longer, absorbed more of the world's nuances, but that advantage meant nothing now. He was redundant, unnecessary, a glitch in a system designed for precision.

His younger counterpart mirrored his stance but with a rawness, a nervous energy that betrayed his fear. His fingers twitched slightly, betraying an urge to act, to make sense of this impossible situation. His gaze flitted between the knife and the older version of himself, as if trying to measure the weight of his own identity, his own right to exist. He wasn't just afraid of dying, he was afraid of not being the one to live. The thought clawed at his mind, sinking deep into his consciousness, threatening to unravel the fragile sense of self he had only just begun to form.

Silence stretched between them, thick with tension, an invisible force neither could escape. The only sound was the distant hum of machinery, the occasional flicker of the lights casting their shadows in sharp relief against the walls. The room itself felt like a prison, not just of metal and glass, but of thought, of identity, of the paradox that had birthed them both. It was a space devoid of natural life, built solely for function, designed for observation, not comfort. There were no windows, no doors visible beyond the one that had sealed them in. It was a place that had existed before them and would continue to exist long after one of them was gone.

Zen-Zero Clone felt the cold seeping into his skin, a chill that came not just from the temperature of the room but from the reality of the situation. He was looking at himself, yet he felt no connection, no warmth of recognition. He should have, logically, every cell in his body was identical to the person in front of him and in fact every experience up to the point of divergence shared. And yet, there was something fundamentally different between them now. An invisible chasm had formed, an abyss created not by time or space but by the need to exist singularly.

Zen-Zero swallowed, his throat dry. He felt the weight of his own thoughts, heavy, oppressive. He had never questioned his right to exist before.....why would he? Until now, he had simply been. But this room had changed that, had forced him to look into the eyes of someone who knew him better than anyone ever could, yet still regarded him as an obstacle. The realization clawed at him, twisting into something sharp and painful.

There was something deeply unsettling about the way they moved, the way they breathed in unison, the way they shifted their weight in near-perfect synchrony. It was a reminder that they weren't truly individuals, not in the way they wanted to be. They were echoes of each other, reflections cast in different moments, both desperately trying to become the original, the one who mattered.

The flickering light caught the knife on the floor, making it gleam with an unnatural brightness. Zen-Zero Clones gaze lingered on it, his mind racing through scenarios, calculations, moral dilemmas he had never anticipated facing. Could he justify his existence? Did he even have the right to try? The weight of the question pressed against him, suffocating, unbearable.

The clone exhaled sharply, the sound barely more than a whisper. The air was thick, heavy, charged with something neither of them could name. He could feel his pulse in his throat, in his fingertips, in the soles of his feet. His nerves were taut, strung like a bow ready to snap.

They were trapped, not just in this room but in a decision neither was willing to make. The knowledge of their entanglement was a curse, a realization that neither could escape. If they were the same, truly the same, then how could they decide who deserved to be here?

Outside the chamber, the world continued, unaware of the silent war being waged in this room, unaware of the choice that neither clone could bring themselves to make. The sterile air grew colder, the flickering light more erratic, as if the facility itself was watching, waiting for them to resolve the error that was their dual existence.

The room stood witness to their turmoil, to their quiet, suffocating agony. Time seemed irrelevant within these walls, stretched thin by indecision and dread. It wasn't just about survival anymore....it was about identity, about the unbearable truth that neither could claim singularity without taking it from the other.

The silence deepened, pressing down like an unspoken verdict. The question remained unanswerable, and yet, the answer had to come. One way or another, the room demanded resolution. But for now, the clones stood frozen in its sterile, unforgiving grasp, drowning in the weight of a choice that could not be undone.