Mirrors to Atlantis

Chapter 6

Polina stared out of the observation window at the imposing metal contraption she was supposed to sit inside. A strange sense of dread welled up within her just by looking at it. She tried to dismiss it as mere nerves and exited the observation room, heading towards the mysterious apparatus. However, as she drew closer, the feeling of dread intensified to the point of being nearly unbearable. It was as if being near the object was causing her distress. She decided to close her eyes, take a deep breath, and remind herself why she was doing this - for Vaiya. With renewed determination, she reached out and touched the structure. When she opened her eyes, the sense of dread had thankfully dissipated, allowing her to climb inside through a small door.

"How are you feeling, Polina?" Dr. Kaznacheev's cheerful voice resonated through the warehouse's intercom system.

Polina giggled and responded towards the small microphone hanging above the metal spiral she was seated in, "Feeling good!"

"Alright, we're going to begin the experiment by rotating the mirror to collect some time energy for you. Don't hesitate to tell us to stop at any time," Dr. Kaznacheev's voice remained reassuring and gentle, reminiscent of a loving father. Polina had known him for only a brief time, but she wished she'd had someone like him during her upbringing. She felt a slight jerk as the platform started rotating slowly. She readjusted herself in the chair and took a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable boredom of sitting in this contraption. She glanced up at the ceiling and couldn't help but think how silly this all seemed.

Dr. Kaznacheev's friendly voice spoke again over the intercom, but this time Polina couldn't quite make out what he was saying. She asked him to repeat himself, but again, his words eluded her. A strange sense of peace washed over her for a few seconds, and she entered a daze where she no longer cared about the doctor's instructions. Then, she began to see vivid visions: first, her mother's funeral. It felt as though she was observing the event from a detached perspective, unlike her usual memories of it, which were filled with sadness, conflict, anger, and helplessness.

Another memory replaced it: she was in church with her mother during Christmas liturgy. The candlelit atmosphere, the scent of incense, the cool air, and the warmth from nearby candles all enveloped her. It was as if she had been transported back in time. She closed her eyes, clasped her hands together in prayer, and was momentarily lost in the memory. Suddenly, she was transported to her childhood, to moments before her parents' divorce. Fleeting glimpses of memories flooded her mind - her pink sandals as a young girl, splashing through a creek behind their home; her mother's back in the kitchen, cooking in the summertime; her father at the table, sipping tea and reading a book. The open windows allowed the evening breeze to fill the warm kitchen with the scent of summer. Then, everything went black.