The Mimic Test

It was late. After grinding through a brutal day at work, I fired up my PC, ready to zone out. Ding. An email notification popped up in the top left corner. Subject: [The Mimic Test Suite] I clicked it open. A black-and-white photo loaded instantly. It was a woman. Her mouth was slit open in an exaggerated, impossible grin that practically touched her earlobes. Her eyes were dead, void of any light. Below the image, blood-red text scrolled into view: [If you think this photo is normal, please exit the software immediately.] [If this photo causes you discomfort, please proceed with the test.] 1 "The Mimic Test?" My interest was piqued. Sounded like some edgy ARG or indie horror game. I set my Coke down on the desk. Click. Download. The file was tiny, barely twenty megabytes. I launched it. The first thing that hit me was another black-and-white photo. This time, a young girl. "Whoa." I actually jumped a little. The girl looked... off. Her eyes were set way too far apart, and her mouth was stretched like a chimp’s. Text appeared: [If you believe this image is normal, we advise you to quit this test.] [If you find this image abnormal or disturbing, you must continue.] Two buttons appeared: [CONTINUE] and [EXIT]. Staring at that grainy, twisted face, a knot of unease tightened in my stomach. I clicked [CONTINUE]. Two new photos popped up. System Prompt: [Click on the image you believe is a Mimic.] One was a smiling middle-aged man. The other was a little boy, also smiling, but his expression was rigid—like his features had been cut out of magazines and glued together. Ideally, a kid shouldn't look like a ventriloquist dummy, I thought. "That’s the monster, easy." I clicked the boy. Next round. A selfie of a guy with a long face, and a selfie of a middle-aged guy. I studied them for a second. The long-faced guy had dead eyes. Glassy. I clicked him. "They all have the same tell," I muttered. "Dead eyes, vacant stares, unnatural mouths. Zero humanity." I breezed through the next few rounds. I was batting a thousand. Then came the final round. "Holy shit!" I almost knocked my chair over. "That’s literally Mr. Miller from across the hall!" There were two photos. On the left, a normal-looking woman. On the right, my neighbor, Mr. Miller. But in the photo, "Mr. Miller" had his eyes bulged out like a pug, staring into nothing, the corners of his mouth hooked upward in a grotesque smile. "That is messed up. Did they hack his Facebook or something? That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen." I cursed the devs while moving my cursor to "Mr. Miller." After a few rounds of this training, I could spot a fake instantly. That thing wasn't human. Click. The screen froze for a second. Then, a new prompt: [Are you still alive?] [YES] / [NO] "Psycho devs. If I wasn't alive, who’s taking the quiz?" I clicked [YES], convinced this was just some tasteless prank software. The screen glitched again. Harder this time. Blood-red text began to type itself out across the monitor: [CONGRATULATIONS. YOU PASSED.] [WE WILL COME TO RETRIEVE YOU WITHIN ONE WEEK. DO NOT SPEAK. DO NOT OPEN YOUR DOOR. DO NOT ANSWER THE PHONE!!!] [DO NOT LET THEM KNOW YOU HAVE SEEN THROUGH THE DISGUISE.] [IF YOU DO NOT RECEIVE FURTHER COMMUNICATION FROM US IN ONE WEEK...] [GOD HELP YOU.] Bzzzt... The screen flickered violently, then blue-screened. "Great. Just great. Malware." I reached down to force a restart on my tower. That’s when I heard it. Knock, knock, knock. 2 It was coming from my front door. I stood up, about to yell "Who is it?", but the warning from the screen flashed in my mind. I hesitated. Barefoot, I crept to the entryway and peered through the peephole. "Mr. Miller!" It was my neighbor. But looking at him through the fish-eye lens, my blood ran cold. He looked exactly like the photo. Dead eyes. That same impossible, ear-to-ear grin. "Just like the damn picture..." The cold started at the base of my spine and seized my whole body. Outside, "Mr. Miller" seemed to sense something. He leaned in closer to the door. The knocking turned into pounding. THUD. THUD. THUD. His voice came through the wood, raspy and mechanical, like grinding gears. "O-pen... the... door." BANG. BANG. BANG. He was hitting it harder now. I could see the doorframe vibrating. "Gabe... let me in..." Do I call 911? He looked like he was about to bust the door down. A call wouldn't be fast enough. My eyes darted around the living room for a weapon. "Hey! What's going on out here?" It was Mrs. Higgins from down the hall. "Miller, are you out of your mind? Banging on Gabe's door at this hour? You woke up my grandson, he's crying his eyes out!" In the peephole, Miller turned his head toward the sound. That sick smile didn't waver. "I need to see him," Miller said. "Jesus, wipe that look off your face, you're creeping me out." Mrs. Higgins hesitated, her voice trembling slightly. "Stop banging. Gabe’s probably asleep. Talk to him tomorrow. People have to work." I heard her footsteps retreat quickly down the hall. In the peephole, Miller watched her go. He stood perfectly still. Then, in a split second, his head snapped 180 degrees back to my door. He leaned forward, pressing one wide, unblinking eye directly against the glass of the peephole. "Shit!" I stumbled back, heart hammering against my ribs. When I looked again, he was gone. "A Mimic... it's real..." The adrenaline crash hit me instantly. My knees felt weak. I dragged the heavy shoe rack in front of the door as a barricade. I needed to check the computer. See if there were more instructions. Whoosh. A gust of wind blew in from the balcony, billowing the curtains. "The wind is picking up." I was already jumpy, and the flapping curtains made me flinch. I grabbed the handle to my bedroom door, then paused. "Better lock the balcony sliding door. Just to be safe." My apartment is on the second floor. The balcony has a glass railing, no safety cage. I went over, slid the glass door shut, and engaged the latch. "And this." I took a decorative string of bells from the wall and hung it on the handle. If anything tried to turn it from the outside, the bells would fall. Back in my room, I locked the door. My PC had rebooted. The desktop looked normal. "Where's the app?" I scoured my files. The "Mimic Test" software was gone. Trace elements zero. My mouse clicked uselessly on the desktop. The dread was settling in heavy now. "The Mimics know who I am. And one of them lives right across the hall." Bzzzz. My phone vibrated on the desk. Unknown Caller. I didn't answer. I didn't hang up. I just silenced it and let it buzz. After a minute, it stopped. Bzzzz. It started again immediately. Same number. "Do not answer the phone." The warning echoed in my head. I powered the phone off and threw it onto the bed. I dove under the covers, pulling the duvet over my head like a kid hiding from a monster in the closet. After a while, the warmth of the blanket calmed my racing heart. "Dammit. I have to pee." The urge hit me just as I got comfortable. I looked at the bedroom door. No way in hell was I going out there. Who knew what was waiting in the hallway? My eyes landed on an empty iced tea bottle on the nightstand. Desperate times. 3 Beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep-beep. My alarm screamed at me. I jolted awake. I swiped it off. 8:00 AM. I slapped my cheeks, which felt puffy. "Can't believe I actually slept through the night with monsters outside." I turned my phone on. 99+ missed calls and texts. The calls had started at midnight and didn't stop until 6:00 AM. "Jesus..." Staring at that wall of red notifications made me nauseous. I swallowed hard and forced myself out of bed. "If I act like I don't know anything, maybe they can't hurt me? Maybe..." I couldn't stay in the apartment forever. I had to go out. And the police? Yeah, right. 'Officer, my neighbor is a skin-walker.' I'd be in a padded cell by noon. I unlocked my bedroom door. The living room was silent. "Good thing I locked the balcony." My eyes fell to the floor. The bells. They were sitting on the carpet. "Something tried to get in last night." I picked them up and gave them a shake. Jingle. "Loud as hell, and I slept right through it." I washed up quickly. I needed to catch the bus. Creeeak. I opened the front door a crack and scanned the hallway. Empty. "Phew." I slipped out and pulled the door shut. Out of the corner of my peripheral vision, I saw him. "Mr. Miller" was standing pressed flat against the wall behind my door. He stared at me with those hollow eyes. "Finally... caught you." Miller flashed that rigid smile and clamped a hand onto my arm. His grip was like a vice. "Hey, Mr. Miller! What's up?" I forced the words out, my body rigid with terror. "You really... don't know?" Miller’s head tilted to the side. His two eyes rolled independently in their sockets, swirling like marbles. "Know what? Uncle Miller, let go, I'm gonna be late for work!" Miller seemed to process this. It looked like buffering. After a long pause, his hand dropped. "Alright. See ya, Mr. Miller!" I didn't wait. I speed-walked to the stairwell, heart pounding. Click... click... click. I could feel his gaze burning into my back. As I turned the corner, I glanced back. His head had slumped completely onto his shoulder, neck broken at an impossible angle. 4 The morning bus was packed with commuters. The mundane misery of the rush hour crowd actually calmed me down. It felt real. I got off at my stop. 8:30 AM. "Thirty minutes to kill. Need food." I went to my usual spot—a greasy spoon diner near the office. Ordered a coffee and a bagel. The bagel was warm, the coffee hot. It grounded me. Chomp. I finished the bagel and sipped the last of the coffee. I looked out the window. There was an old lady across the street, digging through a recycling bin. Normal enough. But I watched her. She reached in, pulled her hand out, reached in, pulled her hand out. She did this for fifteen minutes straight. Same speed. Same angle. "She's glitching like an NPC," I whispered. "NPC..." My stomach dropped. "No way." I paid the bill and headed toward the office. The sidewalk was narrow; construction on one side, shops on the other. The old lady was blocking the path. "Just ignore it. Pretend you don't see." I took a deep breath and walked straight ahead. She was stuck in her loop. Reach in, pull out. Reach in, pull out. As I passed her, I couldn't help it. I peeked. Her gray hair covered a face like a dried apple. Her hand, black with grime, reached into the bin and came out empty. Over and over. Snap. As if sensing my gaze, her head whipped toward me with mechanical speed. I was already walking past, looking forward. Behind me, the old lady stood frozen, her head twisted backward watching me, while her hands kept digging in the trash. Nobody else on the street seemed to notice.

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