Darkness surrounded me.
Not the kind you see when you close your eyes. This was thicker. Heavier. It felt like I was nowhere and everywhere at the same time. My senses existed and yet didn’t. I felt like a consciousness falling toward its body while somehow already inside it.
It was disorienting.
Like being pulled downward and upward simultaneously.
Then a new sensation crept in.
Liquid.
It felt like something coated my entire body—thick and clinging—as though I was submerged underwater and slowly rising toward the surface. My ears felt blocked, my limbs heavy, my skin numb beneath the pressure of it.
Then the liquid began to drain.
It slid off my face, down my neck and chest. I inhaled sharply as air rushed into my lungs, oxygen hitting like I had been deprived of it for too long.
My eyes snapped open.
My arms shot outward instinctively, only to slam into a hard surface above me.
Glass.
Thick glass.
My palms pressed flat against it as more liquid drained away from around my body. My vision cleared slowly, and I realized I was lying inside a rectangular container, transparent above me.
Then—
Hissss!
A loud mechanical sound erupted, and the glass canopy slid open with a smooth metallic glide.
Cool air hit my skin.
I immediately sat up.
And froze.
Around me stood a group of people.
Men and women.
All completely naked.
There was another sharp hiss to my left, and instinctively, I turned alongside the others in the room.
<
The computer voice echoed from unseen speakers.
To my left was another metallic rectangular chamber, identical to mine—like something straight out of a sci-fi hyperbolic pod. The glass slid off, and a woman sat up inside.
Like everyone in the room, she was also naked.
Only then did I fully register the breeze against my own skin.
I looked down.
I was naked too.
I turned back toward the woman who had just emerged.
Beautiful chocolate skin. Smooth, even under the harsh white lighting. As she shifted upright, my eyes betrayed me, drawn downward to her generous bosom for a second too long before I forced them away.
Unfortunately, they landed directly on her face.
She stared at me blankly.
There was no embarrassment. No shock. Just calm assessment.
I felt like I’d been caught gawking inappropriately. And maybe I had.
But she was beautiful.
Angular face. Dark eyes that matched her near-black hair.
She nodded once at me.
I awkwardly nodded back, trying to pretend I hadn’t been staring. Now that I took note of it, everyone in this room looked extremely good too—like they were supermodels who had all decided to go nude for some reason.
My attention shifted as the far end of the room changed.
A section of wall that previously appeared seamless parted open, revealing a doorway that hadn’t existed seconds ago. From it emerged five individuals dressed in full containment suits. Their forms were bulky and faceless, helmets hiding every feature.
For a split second, the irrational thought crossed my mind that they might be aliens.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
<
The computer voice continued as more chambers hissed open one after another. More people stepped out, disoriented but alert.
The suited individuals grabbed hoses and began spraying those who had already exited their pods. Water blasted over bare skin, washing off the viscous residue clinging to their frames. From the heat radiating toward me, I could easily deduce it was warm—contrasting sharply with the cold still lingering in my bones.
I stepped down from my pod when it was my turn.
The spray hit me, rinsing the last of the liquid from my hair, shoulders, and back. It streamed down my body and pooled at my feet before draining into unseen grates.
A towel was handed to me without a word or acknowledgment of any kind.
I dried myself slowly, trying to ground my thoughts.
Where was I?
Was this reality or another simulation?
The technology alone was far beyond anything I knew in 2025. But then again, digitizing consciousness and torturing it in virtual space should have been impossible too.
Yet here I was.
A hand suddenly draped over my shoulder—soft and warm.
And something squishy pressed lightly against my side.
I looked down.
Cleavage, partially hidden behind a loosely wrapped towel.
“Hi, I’m Subject 070. Nice to meet you.”
The voice was bright, giddy, and pleasant to the ears.
I turned my head.
She was light-skinned, probably mid-twenties. Golden brown eyes. Black hair cascading down damp shoulders. Pink lips curved into a playful smile. Even after emerging from some strange liquid pod, she somehow smelled… nice.
I scanned the room quickly. Most of us looked Nigerian… I think. Based on her tone and complexion, I instinctively tried to guess her ethnicity. Igbo, maybe—
“Hey, what are you looking at? This is the part where you’re meant to introduce yourself, you know,” she pouted, feigning offense.
I gave a small, awkward smile instead of answering.
I reached up to gently move her arm off my shoulder.
Before I could, though—
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen.”
The voice cut through the room like a blade—a very familiar voice that forced me to look up.
It was Ms. Destiny. She stood at the end of the room, tablet in hand.
The world slowed.
My fists instinctively curled.
“I believe all twenty subjects are aware that you’ll be embarking on a mission—”
I imagined myself crossing the room in seconds, winding my hand back and punching her square in the face. I felt the impact, felt the crack of bone against knuckles, watched her crumple to the ground.
Sigh.
I inhaled deeply.
Cleared my head of the thought.
That would be stupid.
I didn’t know where I was. Didn’t know what they could do.
When I focused again, I realized Subject 070 had already removed her arm from my shoulder on her own. She stared at me, then at Ms. Destiny, then back at me.
I became aware of the silence.
Everyone was looking at me.
“I asked you a question, Subject 1004.”
Ms. Destiny’s voice was calm yet expectant.
My jaw tightened. I hadn’t heard a question.
Before I could respond—
“Please, Ms. Destiny, move on with the tasks.”
Mr. Adeyemi’s voice echoed from somewhere above us.
“Yes, sir.”
She nodded slightly, then extended her hand toward the wall.
“Please gear up. Your equipment is in the assigned lockers with your subject number.”
The wall shifted.
Panels retracted like Lego cubes disassembling themselves, revealing rows of lockers neatly embedded within.
I stared at the mechanism.
Was this real?
This level of technology shouldn’t be possible—at least not that I knew of publicly.
But then again, neither should everything else that had happened to me.
Shaking my head, I walked to my assigned locker.
Inside was combat wear: tactical trousers, a fitted shirt, a vest, and sturdy combat boots.
No weapons.
Just clothing. I grabbed my pants to put them on. That’s when I noticed something else too—I was taller, by a few inches at least. Looking at the reflective surface of the locker, I examined myself.
The reflection was blurry, but that was definitely my face—as if I had undergone some form of cosmetic surgery to look more handsome. I looked chiseled and weighed at least 70 kg.
I wasn’t bad looking by any means before any of this madness. I was a guy in his early twenties who weighed 58 kg and was 5'11". Now, with a rough estimate, I was at least 6'2".
Noting I was lagging behind the others, I hurried up and got dressed quickly.
Soon, the awkwardness of earlier nudity faded. Everyone was focused now.
“Well, now that you’re dressed, please come with me.”
Ms. Destiny turned and walked toward the end of the room.
We followed in a loose file.
The containment-suited figures remained behind, motionless.
The hallway beyond was sterile white, identical to countless simulation corridors I’d seen before.
After a short walk, we reached a large circular platform with guardrails surrounding it.
We stepped onto it.
Ms. Destiny moved to a nearby console and flipped a lever.
The ground rumbled slightly.
The platform began descending.
Darkness surrounded us as we lowered into what felt like an abyss. The only light came from strips along the edge of the platform.
“So where are we going?” Subject 070 asked, still maintaining that oddly bubbly tone.
Ms. Destiny actually answered.
“Mr. Adeyemi has prepared a small gesture for you all before you set off.”
The platform jolted slightly.
Then light returned.
Not fully.
Ahead of us, suspended in darkness, was a brightly illuminated area like a stage.
At its center stood a long table.
Chairs lined both sides.
A single figure sat at the head.
“WELCOME!”
Mr. Adeyemi’s voice boomed.
He stood from his chair, arms open wide.
“Seeing as you’ll all be setting out on an important mission, I thought it would be appropriate to give you a little gift for all the help you’ve provided.”
He gestured toward the table.
I glanced around.
At some point, Ms. Destiny had vanished.
“Come, have a seat. Let us dine together and get to know each other.”
He smiled like a father inviting children to dinner.
Subject 070 was the first to move.
She practically skipped forward and sat down.
“Oya na, what are we waiting for?”
A handsome young man followed next, grinning confidently, his pidgin English half-confirming he was indeed Nigerian.
One by one, the others followed.
Hesitation melted away faster than I expected.
Soon, I was the only one still standing.
I stepped forward and pulled out a chair directly opposite the young man who had followed 070.
I sat.
“Well, since we are all here now,” Mr. Adeyemi said with a smile, clapping his hands.
From the darkness, chefs emerged.
Real chefs.
They carried trays and began placing various cuisines across the table.
Steaming dishes.
Grilled meats.
Rice.
Sauces rich with aroma.
Fresh bread.
The scent hit me hard.
Despite everything, despite my caution, my mouth watered.
Mr. Adeyemi looked around the table before finally sitting down.
“Good,” he said warmly. “Now that we are all comfortable, why don’t we introduce ourselves?”
The table felt too perfect.
Too staged.
And I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t a gift.
It was something else entirely.