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— Do you… do you even realize what you’ve done?! — I stepped toward him, forgetting about the pancakes, the stove, this whole stupid act. — This is a contract violation! We’ll be fined! I’ll be fined! Or who the fuck knows what else they might do, I can’t even imagine what these people are capable of! Did you think about that, hero? Or is your brain only wired to figure out how to get into my pants again?! I’m a guy, you know that, right?!
— Polya… — he started, but I cut him off:
— Stop calling me that! My name is Mike, and I’m not your Polya! — There was more desperation in my voice than I expected.
Marek looked a little confused but quickly pulled himself together. He stepped closer, his tall figure filling my entire field of vision.
— Mike, Mike… — he drawled, like it was some kind of joke. His voice was calm, but there was a steel certainty in it. — Alright… I didn’t think it would come to this.
Marek stopped just a couple of steps away from me. His face turned serious, his gaze focused, and I felt a chill run down my spine.
— I thought you’d handle it on your own, — he began, speaking slowly, enunciating every word. — But since you’re clinging so hard to "Mike," it’s time to be honest.
— About what? — I blurted out, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice, but it still broke through.
Marek crossed his arms, tilted his head slightly, and took a deep breath. That look—why was he staring at me like that? And god, he was huge. He said nothing, just turned around and walked into the bedroom.
I was left alone in the kitchen, staring after him. My heart was pounding, my hands were shaking. Marek’s words still echoed in my head: "It’s time to be honest." What the hell did he mean by that?
The kitchen was suddenly deafeningly silent. The clock ticked louder than artillery fire. My fingers reached for the sponge—squeeze it, wipe the table, line up the cups perfectly. "No, no, no, Mike, stop, fuck!" I was screaming in my head, but my hands were already folding the towel into a perfect triangle. My chest was rising and falling rapidly, my breathing ragged.
The frying pan. I had to wash the frying pan. The water burned my palms, but I scrubbed the metal with the rough side of the sponge until my skin ached. "Stephanie, you bitch, I’m gonna strangle you with my own fucking hands!" The thought foamed up in my mind, but then—click. Like something inside me just snapped.
— Enough! — I threw the towel onto the table and ran after him. — I’m a man, goddamn it! Mike O’Connor! Fuck this shit!
The bedroom door swung open with a loud bang, making Marek flinch, dropping a disk. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, the laptop screen glowing blue with its screensaver.
— That’s it! — I was shaking like a leaf, pointing a finger at his chest. — The experiment is over! Call those bastards and tell them to undo everything! Fines? I don’t give a fuck! Let them throw me in jail if they want, but I—
— Calm down, Polya. — Marek interrupted me, his voice steady, his face showing a kind of exhaustion. I had never seen him like this before.
— Don’t interrupt me! — My emotions boiled over, I was gasping for air from the sheer rage, but Marek suddenly stood up sharply, blocking the light from the window. His shadow completely swallowed me.
— Polya… or Mike, if that makes it easier for you, — he began, emphasizing every word. — You’re wrong.
— Wrong?! What the fuck are you talking about?! — I stepped toward him, feeling my hands ball into fists on their own. — You’re standing here with some fucking disk, looking like you know everything. What’s going on? You… you were just messing with me, playing your sick little family game! You knew I was a guy, didn’t you? You’re just a fucking gay dude, aren’t you, who—
Marek calmly raised a hand, shutting me up again, but he didn’t raise his voice.
— Sit down, Polya. And calm down.
— Don’t call me that! — I snapped, but I still obeyed. My knees buckled, and I practically collapsed onto the edge of the bed, feeling my damn breasts shift under the robe with every sharp movement. I clenched my teeth, trying not to scream again.
Marek silently tapped the laptop’s trackpad. The screen flickered to life, and I saw… myself.
Or rather, my current body—Apolonia. I was in some undecorated room, gray walls, something like those interrogation rooms you see in crime movies. My expression looked strange, confused, and my hands were nervously fidgeting with the edge of my clothing. At the bottom of the screen, I noticed the date—January 2021. That was impossible. The date didn’t match my memories—back then, I was still Mike, just a regular guy living his life, completely unaware of any fucking experiment.
On the video, Apolonia spoke. Her voice was calm, slightly tense, as if she was trying to convince herself more than whoever was listening.
— I’m ready, — she said, looking off to the side.
— Mrs. Kowalska, please look directly into the camera, — said a voice off-screen. It was male, deep, but completely emotionless.
On screen, Apolonia lifted her gaze to the camera. Her eyes looked tense, like she was struggling with a wave of emotions. She ran her fingers over the hem of her robe, which looked more like a nervous tic than a conscious movement.
— I’m ready, — she repeated, her voice a little louder but shaking.
A pause. Then that same cold, steady voice continued:
— Alright. Now, Mrs. Kowalska, please confirm your consent to participate in the experiment. State your full name, date, and place of birth.
Apolonia froze for a few seconds, then swallowed slightly and spoke:
— Apolonia Kowalska. Born in Katowice, Poland. October 23, 1992.
I blinked, feeling the air go still around me. The voice on the recording—it was my voice. Or rather, the voice of this new body. Calm, quiet, with that soft Polish accent. Exactly the same way I had been speaking for the past few weeks.
Marek remained silent. He sat across from me, arms crossed, watching my reaction. His calmness made me even angrier.
— What the hell is this? — My voice cracked as I pointed at the screen. — What the fuck is this?! This is fake, right? Some kind of setup? That’s not me!
Marek nodded toward the laptop.
— That’s you—your consent to participate in the "Town" experiment three years ago.
— What kind of bullshit are you spewing? Three years? That’s impossible! — I jumped up from the bed, pointing at the screen where this… not me sat. My words, my voice, but… three years? No, that was insane. — I’ve been here for only a month!
Marek pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed slightly, like he had already expected my reaction.
— I know what you’re going to say, but it gets harder every time. You haven’t been here for a month, Polya… A month ago, you had another… "Memory Paradox," or whatever they call it.
— Memory what?! — I repeated, feeling the rage and confusion twist into cold fear. — What the fuck are you talking about, Marek?!
He looked at me, and in his gaze, I saw a mix of exhaustion and… pity? That only pissed me off more. How could he look at me like that, like I was pathetic? Like I was… broken.
— Polya, — he started softly, as if afraid I’d snap again. — This isn’t the first time you’ve woken up thinking that all of this… that you’re Mike again.