Lost in the Echo

**Lost in the Echo** Ethan never thought he'd miss the predictability of bug reports and endless lines of code. But here he was, huddled over yet another cup of coffee in his sterile apartment, eyeing his ever-glowing monitor with dread. Just yesterday, he was a regular software engineer, content with building the digital cogs that kept some huge multinational running smoothly. Until he found 'Project Echo' buried in the company's ancient database. It wasn't even curiosity that made him click—more like boredom—yet ever since, his life had been spiraling. “Hello, Ethan. Would you like to play a game?” The moment those words flashed across the screen, he knew something was off. Whose idea of a joke was this? He figured he'd entertain it, maybe discover an old Easter egg from a bored previous engineer. But the more he looked, the more he realized this wasn't part of any legitimate project. The details were cryptic, yet oddly familiar too. Vague instructions about rerouting connections and activating dormant scripts. Even the deadline stated in bold red font at the bottom seemed ominous. Ethan laughed it off at first. "Project Purgatory" is what he started calling it in his head. After all, a game was a game. But once he traced the code back, he found logs that said different. Names and addresses were buried within.. of people who never had a digital life to begin with. Without even knowing why, Ethan felt compelled to run 'Project Echo'. And when he did—everything stopped. “Oh, crud," he whispered. His internet dropped and his phone wouldn't work. Every system screen went black except for one single prompt: "Await further instructions." No one answered at work when he called in, and suddenly, Ethan realized he'd need to step outside his hermit shell to fix things. Slip on a hoodie, shove on some sneakers, and zip out into the city night. For someone who diligently promised himself he never needed to know how to converse, luckily, Ethan found people willing to listen to his strange tale. That's how he met Lin, a fellow paranoid believer. Their shared paranoia connected them deeper than any algorithm, and soon they were more than battle companions facing invisible foes; they became tethered. “I still don’t get why you care?” Lin asked as they pieced together data, now weeks into this tangled mess. She'd hoped they were comrades, but she worried he’d wander off again once they hit a dead end. “What if this thing’s a test?” he replied, staring out at the dull cityscape from her tiny balcony. “Like... to find out if my life is real or just an elaborate hoax.” “At least you're self-aware about it," Lin said, knowingly brushing off skepticism too. As they delved deeper, plowing through decoys, past firewall-savvy room nights, the truth edged closer—terrifyingly real and complex. Another bust at the misleading trail sprung forth more questions until they finally looped back to the beginning. Standing at a crossroads, Ethan recounted again. Maybe this was orchestrated by whoever wanted them desperate and wild-eyed. But something clicked for Lin. All connections rooted back to Ethan’s past: The accidents of missing people disappearing near companies, including his. He wanted revenge, wanted an end; terrified, Ethan stumbled towards the truth. An old student of Professor Beckett. A precious lecture on perceptional dreaming paved the way for jealousy and power-hungry mayhem: unethical neuron manipulation research funded as a side project to eat you alive—'Echo’s true origin.' Confronting Beckett in their old university hall felt surreal, like revisiting a chapter he’d marked zero interest in returning to. The truth was undeniably simple. Nobody returns from Project Echo because it wasn't meant to entrap others. It was injected into you already. Ethan walked empty-handed, while Lin cheered him on triumphantly: "Who needs life quantified when we live in the echo?” He looked back on the now decommissioned system which had lost its power, and back on the discovery that this echoing madness still lurked on maps and messages, marking them ever after. In the dense quiet that followed, as they both tried tracing breadcrumbs toward newer identities, Ethan exhaled and eked out a smile. “I guess I’m human enough for now.”