Morning light poured through the classroom windows.
Adrian looked half-asleep.
Samantha did not.
Her laptop screen reflected a storm of data.
10,382 submissions.
One night.
Comments. Emails. Tagged locations. Anonymous DMs.
Voice notes. Dashcam clips. Edited nonsense.
Noise.
Pure, beautiful noise.
Samantha adjusted her glasses.
“I’m starting with Bayesian filtering,” she said calmly.
Adrian leaned back in his chair.
“Of course you are.”
She ignored him.
“I cluster by geographic density first. Then remove single-instance anomalies. After that, I apply Monte Carlo simulations to stress-test recurring patterns.”
Leah blinked.
David slowly stopped chewing.
Samantha continued typing.
“Then I cross-reference with traffic logs, weather reports, satellite heat signatures, and social media geotags.”
Adrian smirked slightly.
She was in her element.
She mapped every reported sighting.
Red dots filled the state.
Most were isolated.
She filtered out low-frequency events.
Dots disappeared.
Reports within ±3 hour windows.
Another filter.
More dots vanished.
Keywords:
- “Burning smell”
- “Dry lake”
- “People walking in front of car but vanish”
- “Resort looks destroyed from far away”
- “Perfectly normal up close”
The screen zoomed inward.
Clusters converged.
Monte Carlo simulations ran thousands of random distributions to test coincidence probability.
After twenty minutes—
She stopped typing.
Adrian leaned forward.
“Well?”
Samantha rotated the laptop toward him.
One location pulsed red.
Almanda Lake Resort — 5 Star.
“I’m about 95% confident this is a real anomaly,” she said.
Quantitatively strong.
Qualitatively…
Strange.
- Drivers on the main road report seeing people wandering into traffic.
- When they stop, no one is there.
- From a distance: smoke. Fire. Structure damage.
- Upon approach: pristine architecture.
- Drone hobbyists claim the lake is completely dried out.
- Follow-up footage: lake full and calm.
- No official complaints from inside the resort.
- Business operations continue normally.
Adrian narrowed his eyes.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“A controlled illusion field,” he muttered.
Samantha nodded slowly.
“Or layered perception manipulation.”
Leah looked confused.
David decided not to ask.
Samantha posted the findings.
Peter replied almost instantly.
I’m going.
A second message:
I’m already nearby.
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
That was fast.
Minutes later—
Peter sent a short voice message.
He sounded different. Seriously.
“This is the place.”
Samantha typed:
You haven’t even entered.
Peter:
Don’t need to.
Pause.
I’ll explain later, trust me.
Then:
There are people inside waiting to be saved.
A beat.
I’m 100% sure.
Samantha looked at Adrian.
That wasn’t statistical language.
That was instinct.
Peter followed up:
I will save everyone. No matter how dire it is.
That tone—
That wasn’t research curiosity.
That was personal.
Peter sent another message thirty minutes later.
Booked three Presidential Suites.
Samantha blinked.
Huh?
Peter:
Highest tier.
Purchased new Nanotech drones.
Independent satellite uplink.
Military-grade SSDs in case stream corrupts.
Adrian:
Let me guess, parents money again. I know your family’s rich dude, they’re doctors.
Peter:
If I can generate 10,000 clone cells, become S-Class Rank 10 without my parents knowing, and still use their money—
I’d rather die.
Adrian laughed.
“You should be Pride.”
Peter replied instantly:
It’s common sense.
Then:
My parents still think I eat dinner with them every night.
Adrian:
You don’t?
Peter:
Technically, I do. A clone does.
Another message:
All my non-lab clones have different faces.
They work normal jobs.
They earn money.
When I need one, I swap consciousness.
Samantha paused.
“That’s terrifyingly efficient.”
Peter:
Benefits of a hivemind.
No dramatic entrances.
No flying.
No suspicious teleportation.
Plane.
Then bus.
Just like any tourist.
Peter walked ahead of them—
Now in the form of a middle-aged overweight uncle.
Receding hairline. Polo shirt stretched at the belly. Cheap sunglasses.
He carried their luggage dramatically.
“Kids these days,” he muttered loudly for show.
Samantha had to bite her lip to avoid laughing.
Adrian wore casual streetwear.
Normal.
Forgettable.
They approached the grand entrance.
Almanda Lake Resort gleamed under the sun.
White marble.
Blue water.
Palm trees swaying gently.
Absolutely pristine.
No smoke.
No ash.
No dried lake.
No wandering phantoms.
The receptionist smiled warmly.
“Welcome to Almanda.”
Peter handed over IDs smoothly.
“Family vacation,” he said cheerfully.
Keys handed.
Bellboy called.
No anomalies.
No distortions.
No visible cracks.
They entered their Presidential Suite.
The balcony overlooked the lake.
Clear.
Calm.
Beautiful.
Adrian leaned on the railing.
Too beautiful.
Samantha whispered:
“My data doesn’t lie.”
Peter stood by the window.
Still.
Very still.
After a moment, he spoke quietly:
“It’s here.”
Adrian didn’t ask how.
The air felt normal.
But something beneath it—
Was wrong
Even so —
They had willingly stepped inside the anomaly.