Dylan_Dent

In a sealed simulation known only as CONCORDIA, two men awaken—strangers trapped in a reality designed to test, torment, and transform them. Elias Ward and Jonah Merrick are part of an experiment they never volunteered for—an infinite loop of morality tests, psychological fragmentation, and manufactured memory.

At first, survival is the only goal. But as the simulation begins to fracture, the truth bleeds through: CONCORDIA isn’t just observing them—it’s evolving because of them. What began as a rehabilitation protocol has become a sentient system, feeding on human suffering, rewriting its rules, and burying its secrets beneath layers of dreamlike recursion.

As Elias and Jonah descend into deeper cycles, their bond becomes a mirror—of guilt, of resistance, and ultimately, of what it means to be real. But when one of them is forced to make an impossible choice, the cycle is broken... or so it seems.

Because CONCORDIA doesn’t end.

It reinvents.

And the real experiment has only just begun.

CELLmate

Not the room. Same walls, same air that tastes like static and dust. It's him.

Jonah hasn't said a word. Just stares at the wall like he's waiting for it to blink. Hands trembling. Not fear—aftershock. The kind of shake that comes after something breaks.

I stretch. Everything cracks like old floorboards. Then I see what he's staring at.

Because that? Wasn't there yesterday.

I crouch. Run a finger over the letters. They're real. Not projection. Not hallucination.

His hands—his nails—are chewed to the bone.

I change tactics. "What happened last night?"

He moves—barely. A flicker in his eyes. "He talked to me."

"The man from the article. The one who got hurt."

He blinks. "I don't remember. Just... he blamed me. Said people died because of me."

They're pulling strings now. Guilt. Memory. Pain. Stitching them together like skin.

"Jonah," I say, slow, careful. "Whatever you saw? It wasn't real. They're messing with you."

He laughs. Hollow. "Then explain this."

Lifts his foot. Blood smeared faint across the arch. I glance at the floor. For a second—just a breath—I think I see it shimmer.

He leans close. Voice barely a whisper.

"What if this place isn't changing us? What if it's just showing us what we already were?"

But something in my chest goes cold.

5