The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S16E14

Episode Date: July 11, 2021

It’s Episode 14 of Season 16. Our correspondence makes it hard to believe what we see. “Personal Log of Major Leon James” written by Kristina Orlea (Story starts around 00:08:15)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Major Leon James – Graham Rowat, Computer – Nikolle Doolin, Lt. Colonel Arthur Deacon – Atticus Jackson“I Looked Through Some Old Family Pictures, Something Doesn't Add Up” written by René Rehn (Story starts around 00:30:45)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Dan Zappulla, Michael – Atticus Jackson, Agent 1 – Peter Lewis, Agent 2 – Mike DelGaudio“Reflecting on the Pond” written by Tom Hawkins (Story starts around 00:52:45)Produced by: Jeff ClementCast: Narrator – Jeff Clement, Wife – Wafiyyah White, Aaron – Atticus Jackson“The Moustache” written by Chris Allinotte (Story starts around 01:19:10)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Kelly (narrator) – Atticus Jackson, Marnie – Sarah Thomas, Janice Gunnarson – Erin Lillis, Nurse – Mary Murphy, Carol – Nikolle Doolin, Doctor – Graham Rowat, Earl Walters – Mike DelGaudio“Facsimile” written by Michael Miersen (Story starts around 01:53:40)Produced by: Jesse CornettCast: Narrator – Jesse Cornett, The Man – Atticus Jackson, Haddie – Sarah Thomas  This episode is sponsored by:Betterhelp – Betterhelp’s mission is making professional counseling accessible, affordable, convenient – so anyone who struggles with life’s challenges can get help, anytime, anywhere. Get started today and get 10% off your first month by going to betterhelp.com/nosleepPolicygenius – Policygenius is America’s leading online insurance marketplace. Their mission is to help people get insurance right by making it easy for them to understand their options, compare quotes, and buy a policy, all in one place. Head to Policygenius.com to get started right now. Policygenius, when it comes to insurance, it’s nice to get it right.  Click here to learn more about The NoSleep Podcast team Click here for the Kindle version of S.H. Cooper’s “Inheriting Her Ghosts” Click here for other links to S.H. Cooper’s “Inheriting Her Ghosts” Click here to learn more about Kristina Orlea Click here to learn more about René Rehn Click here to learn more about Tom Hawkins Click here to learn more about Chris Allinotte Click here to learn more about Michael Miersen  Executive Producer & Host: David CummingsMusical score composed by: Brandon Boone“Facsimile” illustration courtesy of Kelly Turnbull Audio program ©2021 – Creative Reason Media Inc. – All Rights Reserved – No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of Creative Reason Media Inc. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hi folks, Cummings here. You've likely heard us talk about Better Help before. We're big fans of the service they provide. You know how Better Help is affordable, private online counseling, anytime, anywhere. You sign up, and within 48 hours you can talk or text with a licensed professional therapist online. So why do we share about Better Help with our listeners? Sure, they do sponsor our show, but that's just a small part of it. We want to make people aware of their service because mental health is vitally important, now more than ever.

And personally, I know what kind of positive effects can happen when you talk things through with a therapist. The past, what is it now, 13, 14 months have been tough on all of us. And I'll be honest, when I look at my life, I see how incredibly lucky I am. I was working from home long before pandemic lockdowns. I've kept my job and source of income. I've been able to stay isolated and healthy. If I look at things from a certain angle, I can say the past year hasn't changed things in my life much at all.

But that's only from that very specific angle. When I look at it another way, I can see how my mental health has suffered greatly. I've been separated from my loved ones for far too long. I've dealt with depression, made poor decisions affecting my physical health, and felt the insidious negative effects of isolation gnawing. at my psyche. And that all happened while I thought I'd been weathering the storm rather easily.

So listen, to have the chance to speak with a therapist in the midst of all of this is a godsend. And better help is an easy and affordable way to make that happen for you. With better help, you'll get timely and thoughtful responses, along with being able to schedule weekly video or phone sessions, all from your own place. The horror stories we share with you can be a wonderful distraction, sure, but there comes a time when you need to open up about the things which are holding you back and keeping you from finding contentment. I highly recommend BetterHelp to be that sounding board by which you can share and get the insight and advice you might not even know you need. And we can help you do that. As mentioned, this podcast is sponsored by BetterHelp and No Sleep

listeners get 10% off their first month at BetterHelp.com slash no sleep. That's Better H-E-L-P. So please, look after yourself. Don't feel or be alone. Join the over 1 million people who have taken charge of their mental health with the help of an experienced professional at Better Help. And with that, it's time for a special kind of therapy. The dark tales of horror are about to begin.

The dark hours. In the antique. in the letters long lost and forgotten for our tales of horror to frighten and disturb. Come, join us as we delve deep into the darkness. Into the sleepless hours when you dare not close your eyes. To yourself for the No Sleep Podcast. Welcome, sleepless listeners. I'm your host, David Cummings. I have some thrilling and exciting news to announce, that being that we're thrilled and excited to announce the existence of our literary imprint, Sleepless Sanctuary Publishing.

For 10 years now, we've been an audio drama publisher, and this will always remain our core focus. But over the last couple of years, it's been clear to us that we work with so many fantastic authors whose prose and post. has a place within the sleepless family, whether in audio format or in print. And so, to cover the in-print part, we have an imprint, a literary imprint. Starting in 2022, Sleepless Sanctuary Publishing will begin expanding into a publisher, with options opening up for writers to become a part of this wonderful new extension of our family. But to begin with, over the next eight months and beyond, we're going to be presenting you with a series of terrifying, thrilling books by some of our most popular and beloved authors.

And who better to kick off this new exciting chapter in our history than the one and the only, S.H. Cooper. Over five years, over 50 stories, and now we're deeply proud to share the release of S.H. Cooper's new novella, Inheriting Her Ghosts. A sudden inheritance, a dark legacy, a haunted past. This fantastic Gothic horror filled with creeping dread is available from online bookstores now in e-book and paperback forms. Links to buy are in the show notes, so be sure to check it out, and keep an eye on upcoming new releases from Sleepless Sanctuary Publishing. Okay, everything's cleared with the owner of Whispering Page's bookstore. She's decided to sell up anyway.

So last week, I entered the shop. The young woman greeted me as just another customer, but she seemed to sense that there was something about me. I browsed for a moment, gathering the courage to say something, but she broke the silence. Hey, you're him, aren't you? She asked. I frowned. Was I? David Cummings, from the No Sleep Podcast.

I hoped she was going to say she was a listener. Being recognized happens from time to time, but somehow I knew that wasn't. all it was. You a fan of the show? I asked anyway, feigning ignorance. She was, as it turned out, but that wasn't what she meant. The woman, who told me her name was Joanna Sutherland, explained that she'd purchased whispering pages around 12 months ago at a severely cheap price, with almost all the stock intact. The only caveat was that on certain given dates, I had to mail letters and packages to you, she said. And I, I was told that you might one day come looking for answers.

Now, I was filled with questions. Who instructed her? Did she have the answers I was meant to be seeking? I hit her with a barrage of questions, and she just laughed. The previous owner was one Boston Coleridge, she said. And I'm sorry, all he would tell me is that you might come looking for answers, no matter how much I asked. I asked her, can I contact Boston myself?

She explained that, no, I couldn't. He had vanished shortly after selling the store to her. And then just six months ago, a body had been found, burned beyond recognition, which was eventually identified as his. Another frustrating dead end. I asked her if she had any more correspondence she was instructed to send. No. I asked her about the mail I received in episode 11, from someone claiming to be allegation. Alexander Hay. She said that wasn't her and seemed unsettled by its existence. And then she claimed

she needed to close up. She suddenly wasn't feeling herself. And with that, I realized that neither was I. The following is an encrypted recording, Joanna gave me on a USB stick. It's apparently encrypted in a way that had proven impossible to break, almost as if the encryption used a key that hadn't yet been invented. But a friend of the show, Christina Orley, was able to unencrypted enough to run it through our voice cleaning software. Graham Rowett, Nicole Doolin, and Atticus Jackson have kindly provided their voice imprint data for this reconstruction. When we listened back, what we found was the personal log of Major Leon James. June 5, 2052. I, Arthur Deacon, Lieutenant Colonel for the United National Special.

do enter this digital log, belonging to Major Leon James into UNS evidence. It is my hope that it will shed some light on the events that took place on the UNS ECHO during the period of March 22, 2052 to May 29, 2052. Unfortunately, due to an as yet unexplained anomaly, some of the entries have been corrupted. I would also like to add that it was under my direct recommendation that Major Leon James be allowed to return to duty after the incident that took place in April of 2015. I shoulder the blame for possibly overlooking signs that Major James was unfit for space duty and would have possibly kept the events that happened on the echo from happening.

Please, review the following log. Take what information you made from it. And if any disciplinary action needs to be taken against myself, you will see me in your office immediately. upon your request. Sincerely, Lieutenant Colonel, Arthur Deacon. March 22,

2052. Log entry 46. Well, it's been 43 days since I set foot in the UNS Echo, and 42 days since I last saw Earth. Technically, I was on the Oriad for 30 days as we traveled to the outskirts of Europa where the Echo was to be stationed.

My post duties are to be stationed. to keep the echo fully operational for personnel traveling to and from Europa. Sort of a systems check decontamination station. Flight crew will dock before engaging the moon outpost, and then they would dock for a check-in before the quick jaunt back to the Oriad, and from their earth. That is, if they have any research ready for council presentation. This was my first space assignment since the incident.

I can't bring myself to talk about it. Even here, or only my ears will hear, the recording. It feels like an eternity, but it's only been a year. A year? God, has it really only been a year? I swear, sometimes I can still hear there. Never mind. I swore I wasn't going to discuss it. This log is for my time on the UNS Echo and nothing more. Thankfully, I've made this an encrypted digital log. Don't want anyone to get the wrong idea. April 4th, 2052. The Echo feels like home.

She's not a huge station, but she's plenty big to keep me busy. The galleys connected to a common room, so the research teams tend to hang out there when they aren't sleeping. The sleep bay has five beds for the crew members, and across the way from that is the medical bay. For space and water flow, the showers are in there. I have my own quarters. I appreciate that. While I enjoy the company of the researchers, I don't want to sleep with them. They might be alarmed by my nightmares.

And I don't want another psyche, though. Skipping over that. There's a second private quarters. They created this station to be a two-man crew, and my partner hasn't arrived yet. Something about a delay in paperwork. While it's designed to be operated by two, it can run quite efficiently with one. There is an external dock, room for two ships. Across from the dock is mechanical.

That's my domain, being the electrical engineer and all. Then the station ends, or does it begin with the flight deck? That'll be my partner's area. It's currently anchored, so I don't have to worry about flight, just manually engaging the hard anchor when a ship arrives to dock. I spent lots of time training on this on the Aureat, but I haven't had actual application on the Echo yet. There's a crew coming from Europe in two days,

so I have time to get acquainted with the flight deck. It'll be a piece of cake. April 15th, 2052. Log entry 48. So, Command has informed me that there will be longer times between the Europa trips. The shuttle that left for Europa yesterday will be the last one for three months. The crew needs more time each visit to collect and monitor the data. This also means that supplies will be bigger, so they'll last longer to preserve fuel.

Remember stop-and-go gas mileage? My dock schedule shows a supply drop for the Echo tomorrow, and that's to last for three months. Shouldn't be a problem. I don't eat that much, and my partner won't be here until the next shuttle. They took a while to get his paperwork sorted. April 16th, 2052. Log entry 49. The Echo was now fully stocked with food, medical supplies, toiletries, and a small drop pod that I can fill with supplies should the output. post need anything. They were kind enough to include a few movies, some music, and a deck of

cards to help keep me busy. Solitaire has always been a favorite of mine. It's going to be a long three months. I can already feel the silence. April 19th, 2052. Log entry 50. While putting the supplies away in Medical Bay, I found a small pod. It was in a crate next to the supply cabinet. Not sure where it's from or what the hell it is. I don't remember seeing it when I did my initial inspection of the echo, so it must have been left behind from the last research crew. They brought a few samples in to examine while they rested before going back to the Oriette. This had to be something they forgot to pack up. It's a rather odd-looking thing. It's egg-shaped, but the size of my foot. It's a metallic teal green with a center onyx black button that has silver lines radiating out from it. It's a

I should set it aside for safekeeping. The second private quarters should do nicely. April 25th, 2052. Log entry 51. Like the lack of shuttles, my log entries will be few and far between. I'll only log important events since I decided that this log would not be for therapy. So, unless the station becomes unanchored or I win an amazing game of Solitaire, this log will be quiet for a while. April 25th, 2052.

Log entry 51B. Just when I say that this log will be boring, that weird pod started making a strange noise. I was in the common room playing my 100th game of solitaire when I heard humming. At least it sounded like humming, like an electrical device. I tracked the sound of the empty private quarters room when I realized that it was coming from the pod. Strange. April 30th, 2052.

Log Entry 52. I had a peculiar dream tonight, different from my normal nightmares. I was sleeping when I was startled awake by a deafening humming coming from outside of my room. When I opened the door, I saw a pale light coming from underneath the door across the hall, and the hum was growing louder. I quickly opened the door to the other room, and that pawlop. A pod was floating above the table, and it was glowing radiant green. It sang out to me with the most alluring, melodious reverberation that I've ever encountered.

I couldn't help myself. I stretched out my arms and welcomed it. It slowly floated into my hands. The glow intensified, warming my face. The lines were pulsing, and the center button was flashing. I knew I shouldn't touch it, but I couldn't help myself. I pressed the button. The pod split open, and a blinding bright white light rushed out from it.

The light concentrated on my face and began to pulsate. The hum got even louder. I could feel my ears start to bleed. When I woke, I was drenched in sweat, and my headache. Corrupted File Corrupted File May 1st, 252. Log entry 1. Well, that's just fucking great. Corrupted file? All my log entries are gone. Gone.

I know this was just for my eyes only, but I enjoyed looking back and hearing how boring I am. I'll have to submit an error report with the tech guys. Shit, if my little log's been corrupted, what else is missing? May 2, 2052. Log entry 2. I had a peculiar dream last night. I was all alone in the station. Command had decided that there needed to be longer times between the Europa trips,

so the research crew could collect and study more samples. A shuttle had just left, and it'll be the last one for three months. I was fully stocked with supplies, but I was going to be playing solitaire for a while. I kept hearing a strange hum. It was echoing throughout the station. I kept running around trying to find it, but it kept moving. I got so fucking pissed and disoriented that I slammed into a whole wall and caused a breach. I remembered gasping as all the air escaped my lungs, and I plunged into the dark of Jupiter's orbit.

I woke up as I rolled out of my bed and landed hard on the floor. I opened the room door and walked across the hall. I could hear Samaj snoring. Good. I didn't want to wake him. He's cranky when he wakes up. It's almost time for me to get up anyways. So I'd rest and went to the galley to make coffee. Morning rounds awaited.

May 6th, 2052. Log entry 3. The shifts are split. I have morning duties and Samage has night. We've taken to playing a few rounds of poker to keep ourselves entertained. There are always a few hours of free time where we each do our own thing. But poker has become our staple. We even started betting.

Now we don't have any currency here. There's no need, but we do have IOUs. Each of us have jobs on our charts that we hate. This is going to be interesting. May 12th, 2052. Log entry 4. Well, it happened. Samaj lost his shit last night.

We were in the common room playing our 100th game of five-card draw, and the plot was getting steep. I'm clearly the better bluffer, and I won the hand and the pot of IOUs. Fair and square, mind you. That's when Samaj accused me of cheating. He tossed his cards, pushed the chips off the table, knocked his chair over and stormed off.

Since he has night duties, I left his mess and went to sleep. May 12, 22. Log entry 4B. I slept for shit, thanks to Samaj. He really is a sore loser, and he tormented me all night long with loud-ass noises, banging, clanging, and huffing, and humming. all night long.

When I finally woke for my rounds, I found the common room in the same state I left it in. A fucking mess. The tantrum of a five-year-old. I cleaned it all up and began my rounds. Corrupted file. Corrupted file. May 17th, 2052.

Log entry 1. Sure, I guess. Just fucking. Great. Corrupted file? Piece of shit technology. I'll have to submit an error report with the tech guys. Bastards! Well, it's been five days since Samaj blew up at me and has yet to talk to me. I'm avoiding me like a child. I've been keeping up with my schedule, doing my rounds, completing my daily station checklist. And now instead of playing a few hands of poker at the end of my shift, I'm playing Solitaire. I fucking hate Solitaire. 2052

Log entry 2 fucking Samash He's not talking to me And now he's no longer doing his night rounds I've no idea what he's doing This is a two-person station I can't fucking do it all I've tried talking to him through his door

But he doesn't answer I watch the cameras Trying to catch him so I can talk to him But each time I see him on the screen And run off to the area, he's no longer there If he doesn't shape up soon I'm going to file a complaint with command May 22nd, 2052.

Log entry 3. That's it. We had a mechanical room alert go off in the middle of the night. Thankfully, it was just a piston lubricant alert, and I was able to fix it. But damn it, some eyes didn't even come out of his room. I pounded on his door for ten minutes. He didn't respond or come out, but I could hear humming coming from inside. I should have gotten the master key and gun in there and beat the shit out of him.

but that would have been caught on camera, and I don't need any more demerits. I've had enough. I'm filing a complaint in the morning. May 23rd, 2052. Log entry 4. I just filed my complaint about Samaj. For my records, I'm copying the complaint sent from the central terminal here. Command, I'm filing a formal complaint on Major Samaj Noelle.

He's become negligent in his duties and possibly a... danger to the station. As you know, we have two maintenance shifts here on the UNS ECHO. I have the morning duties, and Major Noel is to maintain the night duties. After a disagreement on May 12th, 2052, Major Noel ended communication with me. He continued with his duties until May 19th, 2052, when he stopped. Due to his failure to maintain the night rounds on the station, we had an alert go off in the mechanical room on May 22, 252. I'm sure that this sent a notification to tech, but I was able to correct the mishap and now the station is fully operational. I respectfully request that Major Noel be reprimanded and possibly removed from his post.

I'm aware that the next supply ship is scheduled for June 16, 252, but without a second crew member to assist with the station, I may not make it that long. I would like to request that a replacement crew member be sent immediately, and Major Noel be removed from the echo. Respectfully, Major Leon James. Now I just wait for them to be sent immediately. to respond. Corrupted file. Corrupted file.

May 24th, 2052. Log entry 1. Just fucking great. Another corrupted file? Those guys in tech need to get their shit together. No response from command yet. I don't understand why they haven't answered my message. I understand that complaints must follow the chain of command, but this is an emergency.

I've set up for any messages from command to forward to this log since the central terminals are not secure and Samaj can access them. At least my private log is still secure. May 24th, 252. Log entry 1B. There's still no answer from command. Samaj is still not doing his duties. I could tell that he's alive.

I've seen him on the cameras. But he won't even look up at them. Corrupted. Corrupted file May 27th, 2052 Log entry, who the fuck knows? Still no answer from command. I sent a follow-up this afternoon.

It's like they don't understand. I will make them fucking understand. Samaj still won't look at the camera. He won't look at the camera. And now he's humming. Humming, humming, humming. All the time. It's driving me insane.

May 28, 2052. Log entry? I can't take it to stammer. The damn humming! It's in my ears. It's in my head. Oh, God, it's in my head!

Corrupted file. Corrupted file. May 28th, 2052. Log entry! May 29th, 2052. Incoming forwarded message. Leon, hey man, are you serious?

I really got a laugh out of your first message. Major Samaj Noel, that's a good one. I figured that you were just getting bored and wanted to get a laugh. But your second message has me worried. You seem out of sorts, and this official complaint is sending up red flag. Your crazed demand to have an officer removed from the station is disturbing. It would be one thing if the officer existed, but this has our doctors concerned. We have reviewed the video logs from Echo due to your complaint, and Leon, this doesn't look good.

You told me that you're ready to return to space duties, and I'm afraid that I might have pushed you too soon. We've been monitoring your life signs, and they are extremely iraithful. We will be sending an emergency shuttle to assist you immediately. Lieutenant Colonel, Arthur Deacon. Well, let's return to the present day and take a quick break before returning to the horror. Mmm, say, that smells delicious, Atticus. Thanks. Just grilling up some Texas barbecue burgers on this summer day.

I appreciate you having the whole gang over for some food and fun. Oh, my pleasure. I just wish the backyard was bigger. But we'll make do. I was going to say the grill is a little close to the house. I hope you have good home insurance. Insurance? Oh, no.

I knew I forgot about something after moving in here. Hey, relax. If you need home or car insurance or are looking for a better rate than what you have now, turn to PolicyGenius for help. Policy Genius. Of course. I know I'll get a great rate with them. You bet you will.

Policy Genius makes it easy to compare home and auto insurance. in one place. They can help you find home and auto coverage similar to what you have now, but at a lower price. I remember you telling me that they saved customers an average of $1,250 per year over what they were paying for home and auto insurance. Not only that, their team will handle the paperwork to set up your new policy or switch over your current one. Remind me how I can get started. All getting started is easy. First, head to policy genius.com and answer a few quick questions about yourself and your property. Then PolicyGenius takes it from there. They'll compare rates from America's top insurers from Progressive to Allstate to find your

lowest quotes. That's right. The PolicyGenius team can look for ways to save you more, including bundling your home and auto policies. If they find a better rate than what you're paying now, they'll switch you over for free. Their top-notch service has earned PolicyGenius thousands of five-star reviews across Trust Pilot and Google. In no time, you'll have this place insured with a great policy at a great rate. And I can grill to my heart's content without worrying. You can cook up a storm. Just head to policygenius.com to get started right now. Policy genius. When it comes to insurance, it's nice to get it right. And speaking of getting it right, I'm ready for one of those burgers right now. You got it, boss. And we'll send

you listeners back to the show. Or in the case of this next story, the Picture show. Memories. Misty watercolor memories. You know the rest. Well, maybe. And memories are all well and good, but they can be misty, which is why photographs of beloved past events can hold so much meaning.

But in this tale, shared with us by author René Rain, we're reminded that the camera never lies apart from when it does. Performing this tale, are Dan Zapula, Atticus Jackson, Peter Lewis, and Mike Delgado. So flip back through those albums. Fondly remember the times they show. There's no way your memory and a photograph could be lying, right? Unless I look through some old family pictures, something doesn't add up.

Caused by my parents' death, never really healed. I often had days when the pain was too much, and the longing to see them again was too strong. I recently suffered through one of those days. It had been more than two years since my parents had died, but the pain felt fresh and burned hot in my chest. I went back to one of our old family photo albums. It always helped to have a look through them and reminisce about times long gone. Here I was, as an infant in my mother's arms. There was my first day of school, and what followed were the pictures of various family trips.

I went from page to page until I reached one of our many trips to small towns. My parents never took me to different countries. They were boring like that. Instead, we mostly went sightseeing in Germany. In the picture, my parents and I were hugging each other in front of a small restaurant. I felt tears coming to my eyes once more. When I saw us like that, it had been such a nice trip. A few minutes later, I decided it would be a great idea to revisit the place.

The picture was from a trip to a small town about an hour away from here. When I checked out the town online, though, the pictures of our trip didn't seem to fit the scenery at all. The small restaurant had been in front of a backdrop of distant factories and industrial areas. There were none in the town I was looking at. I was a bit baffled, but maybe the pictures were from a different trip. Mom must have put them in the wrong place or confused the names. God knows she was always a bit scatterbrained. I scanned the picture for anything tangible and finally read the name of the restaurant. When I googled it, I got more than a dozen hits.

It was a common name after all. I looked at each of the results, but they were entirely different places. Great, I thought. The picture was from 15 years ago. The place has probably closed down by now. Still, even if the restaurant itself didn't exist anymore, it would be nice to visit the town itself. I continued my search, but in the end I had to give up. I couldn't remember the name of the town at all.

There was no use in trying further. Instead, I posted the picture on a German subreddit to see if anyone would recognize the place. I didn't have much hope, considering it was just a random small town. But who knows? Maybe I'd get lucky. When I rechecked the thread later, I'd gotten a few reports. Some were wild guesses, others were dumb jokes. Well, it's not like I expected anything different.

I left the post open for the time being and decided to prepare some dinner. When I came back, I had a handful of new replies, but none were helpful. I had also gotten a message. Maybe someone had figured it out after all? The message, though, proved to be a bit strange. It was written by a poster somewhere in Germany who stated that he had a picture that looked almost exactly like mine. I wrote back to him and asked what he meant.

I got a reply a couple of minutes later. This time he included an imager link of the picture he was talking about. As I looked at it, I was a bit weirded out. It was almost exactly the same picture, only with a different kid and family in it. Everything else was the same. The angle, the position his family stood at, hell, even the items in the window behind them. They were all identical. This had to be some sort of stupid joke.

I sent the guy a message back stating that he almost got me and that his Photoshop skills were pretty good. Of course, he started to deny it, but I didn't bother to reply anymore. Soon another reply arrived, and the guy asked me if I had other pictures. of the supposed trip. What the hell was his problem? I knew when yet another message arrived. When I opened it, I read the following. Hey, I'm sure you're a bit creeped out.

Sorry about that. Do you have any pictures similar to the ones below? Attached to the message were half a dozen imager links. When I clicked the first one, a feeling of recognition flooded over me. I took out the album of my old family trip again. I looked at the picture on the screen. It was of a young boy sitting on a bench with his mother in the middle of a park. Leaves littered the grass, and there was a small fountain in the background.

When I looked at the pictures of my family trip, I started shivering. There it was again. An exact duplicate. There were the leaves, there was the fountain, and there was the bench in the park. The only differences were my mom and me. What the fuck was going on here? I went and clicked through the rest of the imager links, and with each one my head started to spin more. They were all exactly the same.

The only difference was the people in the pictures. Was this some kind of sick joke someone was playing? But how would he have gotten a hold of the pictures? I wrote him back asking how the hell he did it. He replied that that's what he was supposed to ask. This was getting weird, really weird. For a moment I wondered if it might all be a coincidence. Maybe the two of us were there the same day.

Those things can happen, right? I opened his pictures again and started to search for the tiniest differences, but there was nothing. Then I got an idea. It was outlandish, silly even, but there was this nagging feeling in the back of my head. I sent him a picture of yet another trip me and my parents had taken. This one had led us to a different town in southern Germany. I was antsy as I waited for a reply. I refreshed the page again and again.

After a couple of minutes, the red message sign popped up. I clicked it instantly. There's something incredibly weird going on here. Why do you have that picture as well? I've got the same one in front of me right now. Attached to it was yet another imager link. When I clicked it, my eyes grew wide. It was the same picture.

The only difference was that my dad and I were replaced by him and his dad. Everything else was the same. I replied to him and included my version of the picture. For a long while, I got no answer. It was half an hour later that I finally got one. We should meet. I don't know what's going on, but this must be somehow connected. Should I really meet this?

this guy? Once more I thought of the possibility of this all being a sick joke, but it made no sense. All the pictures here were from an old-fashioned analog camera. They'd never been digitized in any way. So how the hell would this guy have them? Once more, I looked over all of them again. This situation was so utterly bizarre. I had to figure out what the hell was going on here, I finally agreed to meet the guy. He wrote me back his address, and we soon arranged on a time to meet. He urged me to bring any pictures similar to the ones I'd sent him. After looking through my old photo albums for a while,

I decided to take a few that included various family trips. It was about a week or so later that I set out to meet this guy. It was a three-hour car ride. I felt strange and apprehensive the whole time. Who the hell was he? For a moment, the idea of a long-lost brother popped into my head, but it made no sense at all. After that, I came up with more abstruse ideas. What if he was some sort of doppelganger or an alternate version of myself?

No, this is not a freaking science fiction movie. Calm down, you idiot. I finally arrived, I was relieved to find that the guy's house looked completely different from my own. Still, it took me a while to get out of my car. After I rang the doorbell, a chubby guy almost twice my age opened the door. He was as surprised as me when he saw how different the two of us were. Are you, Michael? You must be Stephen, right? I nodded. Well, come in. Did you bring the pictures?

Yeah, I brought a whole stack of them. This guy's place was messy, seriously messy. It looked as if it had been weeks, if not months, since he'd last cleaned. He didn't even seem to care as he led me to his living room. I looked up when I saw that the whole side of the room was taken up by a giant desk. Multiple computers, monitors, and an assortment of tools. pools covered it. When he noticed my stairs, he showed me an awkward smile. Oh, sorry about that. I guess I'm a bit obsessed with the whole online thing. It's where I do most of my work anyways.

Oh, so you're a programmer? Something like that, yeah. All right? Well, I got the pictures, so what do you think is going on here? To be honest, I've got no clue. I thought it might be some weird coincidence. But there are too many things that don't add up. When did you say you and your parents visited that restaurant again? I think it was back in 2005. Right. And you're how old?

24. What does this have to do with anything? Well, it's because I'm 36, and I took that same trip in 1992. I had heard what he'd said, but I didn't understand. How the hell could the pictures be identical? if they were 13 years apart. You got it, right? So how the hell is any of this possible?

That other picture you sent me? When were you there? I opened my backpack and took out the photo albums. Hold on, it should be here somewhere. Ah, here it is. Let me see. That one was back in 2002. Michael grimaced.

Same trip. Only in 1990. Freaking hell, what's going on here? He didn't answer. Instead, he rummaged through a cupboard and brought out stacks upon stacks of pictures. Well, then, let's see if there's more. Over the next hour, the two of us went through all our pictures

and compared our various trips. The result was that all of them were the same. At first, we were utterly horrified and crept out. But in time, the sheer serreality of the situation pushed us into a state of apathy. We went from picture to picture and compared them. Every once in a while, one of us would laugh a little or shake his head. Nothing more. I put another picture back into one of my albums.

So what about your parents? How are they doing? Both dead. They died about two years ago. In a car accident? Michael looked up at me, puzzled. No, they both died in a fire. Oh, God. For a second, I thought, but then I shook my head.

No, what is it? Well, mine died two years ago in a car accident. For a moment, I thought it might have been the same for yours. I don't know anymore. This is all way too strange. Michael said nothing. In the end, there wasn't much the two of us could do at the moment. We were both way too confused, and we didn't have much to go on.

Our names were different, our birth dates, and birthplaces were different, and our parents weren't related in any way. For a while, we made wild guesses what could be going on. But it was all nonsense. When afternoon turned into evening, I decided it was time to make my way back. home. Before I did, though, we exchanged phone numbers and emails in case one of us would find out anything. Michael also took copies of some of my pictures and told me he'd have a look online. He knew certain people that could find out if any of the images were doctored. Only when I was in my

car and driving home, did I fully realize how bizarre everything was. The more I thought about it, the more I felt anxious, sweaty, almost sick. Once at home, I went to bed right away, but sleep didn't come easy. My dreams were haunted by doppelgangers and plunged me into weird alternate realities. When morning finally came, I was more tired and exhausted than the day before. I went to work, but I was barely functioning. It was in the early evening that I got a text from Michael telling me to check my email. He'd got some news for me.

For the first time that day, I was wide awake. I signed into my email and opened the one Michael had sent. In the email, he told me that someone had gotten back to him about the pictures. It was an older man from Russia, who wrote he used to work in a print media company in the Soviet Union. He remembered the picture right away. The man wrote he recognized the scene in the two pictures. He used to work with the original version. It was a somewhat popular stock photo, often used in propaganda pieces from the late 70s. They all showed happy Russian families. Added to the email was the same picture once more. The family was a family was a

different one, but the scene was almost identical. There was one difference, though. All the German in the picture was replaced by words in the Cyrillic alphabet. How the hell was this possible? How the hell were my parents and me in a picture from a Russian propaganda piece? Then I realized it. There was only one way. The picture of my parents. parents and me. They had to be fake. With shaking hands, I went through the photo albums again, looking at all the pictures of us. How many of them were actually real? How many were fake? Yet there was something else that slowly crept into my mind. Who had faked them? And most importantly, why? I was shaken from my thoughts when my phones started.

to ring. It was Michael. Wait, hold on. What do you mean? Remember the trip to the about the one to the museum? Also stock photos. But how? Why? God, if I know, I'm talking to this guy right now and sent him a few more. He says that most of the pictures are taken from some photo series about Soviet towns. There are some, though, he has no clue about it. He noted that almost all of them looked like stock photos or been doctored with, though. You're trying to tell me that all the pictures here, I broke

up, I couldn't say it. But what the hell does this mean? That's my life. I mean our lives. How can someone fake all this? I got no answer from the other end of the line. I only heard heavy, shaky

breathing. Sky, though, and I'll see if I can find out anything else. Hey, Michael, What are you... Before I could finish, he hung up. Fucking hell! For the next days, I was unable to do anything.

I went through all the pictures and photo albums again. If all those were fake, then why did I have memories of the trips? How the hell could I remember visiting a freaking museum in the middle of Russia? Finally, I took out a picture of my parents. It was two years ago, wasn't it? Memories of the police arriving at the door, the funeral, it was all still on my mind. Then I started to think about the funeral. For the first time, I really began to think about it.

When exactly had it been? I knew it was two years ago, but what day, what month, where had it been? It must have been in this town, right? I mean, that's where I grew up. I shook my head. I was out of it. I'd barely slept and my mind was fuzzy. Of course it had been here, right?

If I went down to the graveyard, I'd find their grave right there. Suddenly, a shiver went down my spine. Where exactly was their grave? I was about to set out when my phone rang again. It was Michael once more. I answered right away. You found anything new? Nothing.

All I heard was shaky breathing and sobbing. Hello? Michael, are you all right? I did find something new. But no, I'm sorry. With that, he hung up. When I tried to call him again, it went straight to voicemail. I didn't get what was going.

on. I wrote him a message on Reddit, then later an email, but I never got an answer. I don't know how often I tried to call him. Eventually, I went to bed. It was a few days later, almost by sheer accident, that I saw Michael's picture in a German tabloid. A few days ago, late in the evening, a man in his mid-30s had jumped to his death. My jaw dropped, and I stared at the article with wide eyes. What the hell was going on? What the hell had Michael found out that drove him to do this? I felt goosebumps all over my arms and, for a moment, a surge of anxiety flushed over me. What had Michael found out that was so terrible? I remembered his last words. I was hearing them over and over in my head during the three-hour car ride to his home.

The place was dark and quiet, but looked exactly the same. I didn't know what I was even doing, but I wanted, no, I needed to know what the hell was going on. The front door was locked as I'd expected, but I found a cracked window that I could open up. I sneaked inside and made my way through the messy place until I was back in his living room. Half of his computers were trashed. Fricking hell! Did he know I'd come here?

Then I found a stack of papers on the floor. Some were printouts of stock photos, the others were covered in text. When I picked them up, they looked like scientific documents. Stage 7. Memory alteration. Test subjects are infused with artificial memories to create the illusion of a normal life. What the hell was this? I went through the stack and checked another one. Stage 3.

Growth acceleration. Gen manipulation ensures maturity of test subjects in only a fraction of normal human growth. period. What was I reading? This made no sense. I checked the rest of them, but they were all the same. Stage four, mind exhilaration. Stage eight, social behavior therapy. And on it went. I looked through the whole stack until I found the last one. Stage 13. Project termination and future developments. Test subjects show insufficient results. Project deemed unsuccessful and to be terminated immediately.

Euthanasia of remaining test subjects considered unnecessary. To be kept under surveillance to gather information about adaptability to society and social norms. What the hell was this shit? I didn't understand. any of it. When I checked the date, though, I saw that this last document was from early 2017. That was the same year my parents had died. My head was spinning. This couldn't be real, could it? I went through the stack once again to read more, but then I heard something. The front door was opened, and there was the shuffling of heavy feet.

Think he told the other subject? No, the long show he attempted contact, but he didn't share anything. I froze. Shit, who the hell was this? When the heavy steps got closer, I told myself I had to get out of there. As fast and as quiet as I could, I made my way back to the window and got out. It wasn't even a minute later that I drove off. I had no freaking idea what I'd just witnessed.

Could any of this be real? This had to be a sick joke, didn't it? But then what about those damned documents that Michael had found? I don't remember much about my drive home. I was entirely out of it. I still am. Once I was home, I went through my whole place to find any sort of information about my parents. There's nothing, though.

They seem to only exist in my memory. and these old photos. The more I think about it, the more I realize how much I don't know about them. When were they born? How old had they been? Did they get married? And if so, when? As I'm sitting here, I don't know what to think.

Is any of this real? Are my memories real? Am I even a real person? We place the letters back in their envelopes. It's time to take our leave. The musical score was composed by Brandon Boone. Our production team is Phil Mikulski, Jeff Clement, and Jesse Cornett. Our creative content manager is Olivia White.

Our editor-in-chief is Jessica McAvoy. I'm your host and executive producer, David, Cummings. If you would like to find out how you can hear the extended editions of our audio program, please visit the no-sleeppodcast.com to learn about our season pass program. 25 episodes, each over two hours long and three exclusive bonus episodes, all for only $25. On behalf of everyone at the No Sleep Podcast, we thank you for listening.

and for being ever curious. This audio production is copyright 2021 by Creative Reason Media, Inc. All rights reserved. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. No duplication or reproduction of this audio program is permitted without the written consent of Creative Reason Media, A.