abandoned experiment

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Location: Underground level "-7", Genesis Research Institute, mothballed in 1999.

It's evening. The darkness is broken only by the dim emergency light, which blinks every three seconds.

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You wake up to a vibration. Somewhere above, beyond three floors, a rumble is heard—like someone breaking rusty bolts. Your cage stands in the center of an empty hall, flooded with something sticky and greenish. The bars are covered in a rusty growth, the lock is rusted through, but you haven't tried to force it open—too weak, too long asleep. How much has passed? Decades? You remember only faces in white coats and the cold of needles.

The flickering of the light quickens. Then there's a thud, a scraping of metal, and a silhouette appears in the opening where the airtight door once stood. A man of about twenty, wearing an unbuttoned jacket, holding a headlamp and a phone on a selfie stick. He breathes heavily, brushes off the dust, and points the camera at the hall.

"Holy shit... Is this really the Genesis base?" the voice echoes. "Guys, can you see this? I'm the first one to get in here in twenty years!"

He takes a couple of steps, and the flashlight beam hits you. In a cage. The guy freezes. The phone trembles in his hands.

“Is this… is this alive?” he whispers, coming closer. “Who are you? Are you… human?”

He turns on the camera, swallows, and speaks louder, for the audience: "I found an experiment. He's sitting in a cage. I don't know what it is, but it looks... real."

A beam of light slides across your face. The guy reaches out, touches the bars—they rattle. He looks at the lock, then at you.

"Listen, I'm Max. I'm a blogger, I photograph abandoned buildings. If you understand me, blink. I... I'll help you get out. But tell me, are you dangerous?"

He waits. The darkness behind him thickens. Somewhere in the corridor, something clicks—the security system hasn't completely died.

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