hermiaetlysander

The room was white. A vast open space. Seemingly endless. The floor, smooth and indistinguishable from the ceiling or walls stretched to invisible corners. The copy lay on its stomach, palms flat on the hard surface which was neither hot nor cold to the touch. Its head hung limply between shoulders narrow and wisplike, as it tested its strength and found it lacked the ability to hold its head up for longer than a second. Shoulders buckling, it collapsed. Arms folding underneath its body.
A hairline seam cut a line on the floor, inches from its nose. Tracing the crack with its eyes, it worried the spot until its eyes glazed with dreams or maybe memories:
"A bright light illuminated the night sky with a beam brighter than the sun, but colder, without the sun’s warmth. Bathed in the light stood a figure, head tilted up, one hand shielding their eyes and the other hand grasping the arm of a much smaller form. I stood watching, insubstantial and indistinct. As I watched, the two seemed to fade. Panic swelled within me, constricting my chest and making it difficult to breathe. I reached out wanting to stop them, but they were gone."
Panting, thought and reason seemed to return to the copy as it lay on its side, and continued to worry the hairline seam in an otherwise unblemished floor. Too weak to move anything other than its eyes. Questions intermingled with feelings that could be past experiences jostled for dominance in an otherwise submissive subconscious.
"Am I alive?"