It was a dream. She was sure of it, though deep inside she felt that she wasn't asleep at all. Lucid dreaming? No, this was something else. She recognized this feeling. Someone had visited her through her dream.

  She was being led by two people in white lab coats. She couldn't see their faces, but it didn't matter. They were unreal. They were merely elements of the dream world of someone who had drawn her into this place. It felt strange. She walked through narrow corridors, lit by rows of buzzing fluorescent lights. The light was cold, sterile, like everything around her. It unsettled her, yet she had nowhere to run. All doors closed behind her. Whatever was kept in this laboratory was highly classified.

  Only when she thought about it did a question form in her mind: who was she here? She looked down at her bare feet. No. She was wearing shoes. She was in her normal clothes, not a lab coat. This dream world didn't want her, yet she was here and had to adapt to this place, no matter how stupid it sounded.

  They passed more doors. She didn't say a word, as it would be pointless anyway. The men leading her somewhere didn't treat her as a human being. She was a lab rat, someone not even worth talking to. She was their experiment. Judging by their expressions, not a very successful one. Of course, these were just her guesses; she knew nothing about the place she was dreaming of, or that someone had planted inside her dream. She walked like an obedient calf, but how could she be sure that, in the end, someone wouldn't simply slit her throat?

  The last door was guarded by a soldier. The escort exchanged a few remarks, but Alice didn't understand a single word they said. It was as if the sound passed through some invisible membrane, distorting before it reached her ear. She heard it, but it seemed to come from very far away, and individual words became impossible to understand. It didn't matter. After all, no one here was asking for her opinion.

  She was led into an even more sterile room. She felt dirty in it, infected by the colorful world, inferior. She was seated in a white chair and strapped in with leather belts. For a moment, she wondered if she should fight them, but it seemed pointless. Besides, although she was damn scared, she was curious where all this was leading.

  They started sticking electrodes on her, attaching strange devices to her fingers, wrapping her with straps. Maybe it was an electric chair? Finally, they put a helmet on her head. Only then did she realize she was facing a huge television screen, covering half the wall. The device was switched on, and a moment later static appeared on the screen. That was all. Nothing more.

  "They want to see your soul," a quiet little voice whispered in her head.

  A warning? Probably, but she couldn't use it in any way, so she didn't dwell on it. Instead, she focused on the dry fact. This device allowed one to see the soul? No, how? Our souls are in our bodies. We see them, but clothed in matter. Why look at something formless? Then she understood. It wasn't about the soul she had now, in this limited, human shape. This device reached deeper. It allowed one to see who you are deep down, when stripped of memories and history. It was about the Soul Core, the God Code, the set of information that forms the basis of our definition. That terrified her. She looked at the monitor with fear. The static began to give way to an image, and she felt herself trembling. The image was literally emerging as if from water. It was incredible, but also terrifying. Any moment now, she would see who she truly was, though she wasn't ready for it in the slightest.

  First, she saw the outline of a figure. Blurry, indistinct. Then the outline became clearer, though still not sharp enough. A tall woman in a coat reaching the ground, with a cigarette in her mouth and a sword in her hand. Long hair, but what kind? The image had no colors and no clear contours. Just interference without depth, yet so damn accurate in its imperfection. The woman was bleeding, but standing proudly. Before anything clarified further, the image wavered and vanished.

  Someone approached her and began removing the contraptions. She felt strangely naked, paltry, insignificant. They had violated her, seen something no one had the right to see, and then decided it wasn't good enough. They threw her into a corner like a used doll, completely forgetting about her. She became anonymous, unnoticeable to them now, and she could do nothing about it. She felt like howling, screaming, despairing, but she knew it would change nothing.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  The people in white coats continued their preparations. Someone else was about to enter so they could examine something. How excited they were about it, how sure of themselves. Finally, the door opened and a little girl walked in. She was only a few years old, but she seemed so helpless, so clumsy and terrified that it made your heart ache just to look at her. Tears filled her eyes. No one had told her anything or explained anything, and she was too obedient to ask. Would they have answered her? Highly doubtful. They didn't waste precious time on unnecessary conversations. That was why they were in such a hurry, their movements precise, efficient in their frugality.

  The screen activated again. The same process. Static, snow, anticipation. Something in the background began to clarify, and everyone held their breath, but then the image blurred and became unstable. As if the device wanted to show a thousand possibilities at once, or as if the girl didn't have a soul strong enough to manifest itself. The people in lab coats went mad, checking everything, unscrewing, tightening, but nothing changed. The image kept eluding them, driving them into fury. Finally, they gave up.

  At that exact moment, the image of a man tired of life appeared on the screen. He was sitting on something, his face buried in his hands, as if he no longer wanted to look at this dirty world. He radiated weakness, the weakness of someone who had lost his life because he perceived only its monotony and absurdity. They were disappointed by the sight. The child became useless. No one paid attention to her crying or her helplessly outstretched hands. She was passed by as if she were an object, then left completely alone. A woman stepped back and removed the apparatus to secure it, paying no attention whatsoever to the little girl.

  Everyone in white coats left. Only two medical specimens that were good for nothing remained: her and the child. It brought them no comfort. She wanted to approach the little girl, say anything just to cheer her up, but she couldn't. She couldn't even speak. She just stood there, watched, tried to force herself to act. She was afraid, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly of what. It was as if she sensed something coming. Why? She was left only with that feeling.

  The little girl was still sitting in the chair. She had relaxed, her head hanging down as if she had fallen asleep, but her eyes were open. The television was still on, the screen covered in static. Yet something began to clarify. Slowly, sluggishly, but surely. First, a woman's head. Long hair obscured her face as her head hung heavily forward. Signs of fatigue were visible; she probably had dark circles under her eyes. A slow stream of blood mixed with thick saliva flowed from her mouth. Alice was studying the discharge when it suddenly struck her that the image had become sharper and that new elements had appeared beyond the face.

  The woman had been crucified. Crucified!

  When this finally registered, the upper body of the figure was revealed. Maltreated, mutilated, condemned to hang between life and death. Alice watched with a tight throat, aware of her own helplessness. Total helplessness. She stared at the image, unconsciously holding her breath. Every muscle tensed to its limit, her body preparing for flight.

  The woman on the screen stretched her lips into a dead smile. That smile frightened the witch even more. Then the image focused entirely on the pierced wrist. The hand twitched slightly, then went limp, as if its owner had lost consciousness or worse. Yes, it would probably be better if the woman died, but nothing like that happened. The hand clenched into a fist, and then the whole arm began to push forward.

  The image zoomed out, showing the woman's face, now twisted in a mad smile.

  What is she doing? Alice wondered frantically. What the hell is she doing? She was terrified. She didn't understand, couldn't comprehend what she was seeing. The movements on the screen became unnaturally slow, as if someone were showing a film in slow motion, yet this was real time. She felt it. The movements slowed because she was getting down from the cross. No, that's impossible. She can't do it. She mustn't. She is getting down from the cross because the world should burn.

  Everything became clear, though nothing had actually been explained. Somewhere very deep inside, she understood it on a level that bypassed her consciousness entirely. That was more than enough, and this was no time for questions.

  She looked at the little girl staring fearfully at the television screen. Was this fragile, delicate child supposed to have such a mutilated soul? Such an old soul? The girl, as if hearing her silent questions, turned her head and gave a slight nod. Or was it only confirmation that she saw it too? The beginning of the total end, that was what this image was, what they were sharing. But no, she felt it. The girl confirmed that the image concerned her, and her alone.