A heavy silence, like a taut veil, enfolded the space. Anna opened her eyes, but at first she could not focus: the light seemed too soft, almost mist-like. Slowly her vision cleared, and she realized she was lying on a bed covered with a smooth, snow-white spread. The mattress beneath her back was firm yet not hard, as though chosen with deliberate care for the sake of comfort.
Her gaze drifted across the room. Blue walls with a muted sheen framed the space, evoking a strange blend of coziness and menace. The ceiling rose high above, its surface resembling frosted glass, from which a gentle light poured. It illuminated everything evenly, casting no shadows, lending the room a sterile, almost artificial quality.
Beside the bed stood a small metal table, bare except for a glass of water. Every bed had its twin: the same table, the same glass. The floor, made of polished material, gleamed like a dark mirror, reflecting blurred silhouettes.
Anna sat up, her feet slipping onto the floor, and at the touch of its cool surface, her body shuddered involuntarily. She drew a deeper breath, but the air lodged coldly in her throat, reminding her that this place was not merely unfamiliar. It was alien. Unreal.
A rustle at her side made her turn.
Olga had awakened. Her movement was sharp, like that of someone long accustomed to being alert. She sat up at once, ran her hand through dark hair, and swept her eyes quickly across the room, assessing. Her face remained calm yet taut, like a beast poised to strike.
– Where are we? – she asked, her voice rough but firm. It tore through the silence, only to be swallowed by the walls.
Without waiting for an answer, Olga rose and strode toward the door. Her heels tapped softly on the floor. Bending down, she ran her palm along its rough surface, as though searching for hidden locks.
Anna said nothing. She only watched as Olga continued her inspection of the room.
Another sound – barely audible, like a sigh.
Katya opened her eyes and slowly turned her head. Her face showed a mixture of wonder and fear. As soon as she sat up, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as if shielding against some invisible threat.
– Is this… a dream? she whispered, so faintly it almost went unheard.
Katya dared not rise. She looked at Anna, then at Olga, but found only silence in return. Her body trembled, and she remained hunched in a tight knot.
A quiet knock drew the others’ attention.
Igor was awake now. Like the rest, his movements were unhurried, measured, as though giving himself time to absorb the situation. Concentration was etched on his face, though his lips pressed tightly together betrayed the effort to mask emotion.
– We are not here by chance, – he pronounced, standing at the edge of his bed.
His gaze swept the room, lingering on the door, then on each of them in turn. Approaching the wall, he laid his hand against it, then tapped his fingers.
– This isn’t concrete, – he muttered under his breath.
Vadim woke next. His rising was abrupt, almost aggressive. He sat up at once, glanced around, and smirked, as if already annoyed by the entire spectacle.
– So, where are the clowns with the applause? – he scoffed, standing.
His voice carried a hard edge of sarcasm, placing him above the others by tone alone. He strode to the door and shoved it with his shoulder, but it did not budge.
– Perfect. So we’re locked in.
The last to stir was Artyom. His waking was the most serene: he stretched, yawned, and smiled, as though he’d found himself in a luxury hotel rather than a strange chamber.
– Well now, what’s this? Premium suite? – he asked with feigned ease.
