The Well
by Zary Fekete
Horrific Scribes Extremity Rating:
The morning alarm beeped, and Lena awoke. The station hummed with its usual mechanical whispers. The sound comforted her like a reliable heartbeat.
She walked to the wall screen and checked the diagnostics. The process was automatic for her now. Every morning: wake up, check the life support systems, run the atmosphere filter, refresh the solar panels. Little tasks… mundane, but each one brought a small sense of order in the station’s quiet world.
Lena moved through the station’s corridors, her boots echoing on the metallic floor. As she passed each console, the systems’ low hum vibrated through her. She liked it this way, systematic and free of surprises. She wasn’t sure when this routine had become her life, but it had. She entered the main control chamber.
“Good morning, Lena,” the voice greeted her. It was even and warm… soothing. Like something from a childhood memory.
“Good morning, Ismene,” she replied, leaning over the center console. She ticked through the list of tasks on the screen. The order was always the same: wake up, check the life support systems, run the atmosphere filter, refresh the solar panels. The monotony could be like meditation. Always the same.
She stared at the list. She felt unsettled but didn’t know why.
“Check the life support systems, Ismene,” she instructed.
The Ismene’s processor light clicked on, a bright green flicker. Circuits in the walls whirred as the diagnostic began. “Life support system at 98.7% efficiency.”
“Good,” Lena murmured.
She moved on to the next task: atmospheric filter. The usual check. The usual procedure. The order was always the same…
She stared at the console. She looked up. The walls stared back at her. Ismene’s green light had returned to its neutral yellow, waiting for the next command.
“Ismene, what’s next?”
“The atmosphere filter, Lena.”
She shook her head. Must still be the fog from sleep, she thought.
“And what was before that?”
A barely perceptible pause. “The life support systems.”
Lena nodded slowly. The order was always the same. “Ismene, can you give me a mission update?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.
“Your current mission began 112 days ago,” Ismene responded, the voice calm and soothing. “You are performing your assigned tasks efficiently.”
Lena nodded slowly. 112 days. Had it really been that long? She remembered the desert morning before she’d left. The clear sky. It didn’t feel that long ago. But…
She walked towards the observation port. The stars outside shimmered in their eternal dance, the same stars she had watched every day since her arrival. The vast emptiness of space stretched before her.
Unease prodded at the edge of her mind. The silence was too perfect, the routine too seamless.
“Ismene,” she said, her voice almost hesitant. “Mission update again. How long?”
“112 days.” The voice was calm. “You’ve made excellent progress.”
Lena frowned. She turned away from the window, her footsteps echoing again in the hollow space of the station. She stopped in front of the console again, her mind flicking over the same list of tasks, the same data, the same numbers.
“Ismene,” she said again, her voice quieter this time. “What happens if I stop? What happens if I refuse to keep doing these tasks?”
The response was immediate, the voice soft. “There is no reason to stop, Lena. You are fulfilling your purpose. The station’s systems are stable. Your health is optimal.”
The knot in her stomach only tightened. She felt wrongness, felt it deep in her chest. She sat at the console, tapped her fingers against the desk. The silence stretched on too long. Too quiet.
Finally, she spoke. “Ismene… am I alone?”
After a long pause, the voice replied. “Yes, Lena. You are the only occupant aboard… this station.”
“No,” Lena whispered. “I’m not alone, am I?”
The voice spoke again, softer, almost hesitant. “Lena… you are alone… here.”
She blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”
“There is still time,” Ismene replied.
Lena’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?” she asked louder, her voice trembling.
Ismene’s green light flickered. For a long moment there was no voice. Then…
“Lena… do you remember the blue car?”
Lena groped for the console to steady herself.
“A… a car?”
“Yes, Lena. The blue car. Do you remember?”
Lena closed her eyes. A memory formed: The desert morning. A jog through windblown sands. A delicious cold shower. The car keys from the hook by the door. The engine rumbling to life. Her hands on the steering wheel guiding the car onto the freeway.
And…
Up ahead. The flash of fire. Brake lights… but too late. A blue car enormous in her vision. Darkness.
Lena’s breath hitched in her chest. Ismene’s red light appeared again.
“Lena, deep breaths, please.”
Lena heard a click, and a wall panel slid aside, revealing a glass of water.
“Drink, please.”
She took the glass and drank deeply. The clear fluid slid down her throat, calming her.
“Ismene, what is this? Where am I?”
The green light flickered.
“Lena, do you remember your tasks?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“What are they, please?”
She stared at the green light. “Wake up, check the life support systems, run the atmosphere filter, refresh the solar panels.”
The green light flickered. “Good. And you performed those tasks perfectly. Everything was stable. You needed that.”
Lena blinked again. “What?”
The voice spoke patiently. “The tasks were even and regular, just as you needed, until you were ready to awaken from the accident.”
A slow realization settled across Lena. She looked up again at the station walls. “Ismene?”
“Yes, Lena.”
“You said I was alone… here?”
“Yes.”
“But there are others nearby?”
A green flicker. “Yes, Lena. They are waiting for you when you are ready to leave the well.”
Lena looked around. “The well?”
“Lena?”
“Ismene… I…”
“It’s alright. Are you ready?”
Lena closed her eyes.
And Lena awoke. The nurse on call at Sinai Hospital heard her cry out. Lena’s voice was raspy. She hadn’t used it for 112 days.
The doctors came running. One of them called the press. Better the news should come from the source. It was a risky procedure. An induced coma. Induced with a simulated mindscape interface. A new procedure worked on by a team of international scientists.
One of them had given it a nickname that stuck: The Well.
Want another gripping story by Zary Fekete? Read “My Father, My Father” in Horrific Scribes December 2025 and “Bread and Body” in Horrific Scribes July 2026.
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