Delia Asia Vieira nodded and, when Karen left the room, slamming the door behind her, she slowly walked to the mirror to look at herself one last time before going to bed. After all, the room was too cozy not to give herself a minute of rest. In the reflection, she saw herself - tall, with perfectly even features, and her eyes... no, they were strangely empty. Delia Asia Vieira tried to smile, but the gesture looked so artificial that she immediately stopped herself.
And then, at that moment, when she was alone with herself, something suddenly changed. In the mirror, for a moment, like fog, a face began to appear - a middle-aged man's face. It appeared suddenly, as if it had floated out from the depths of the mirror. For a long time it was unclear, but then it became completely clear, and Delia Asia Vieira froze, looking at it.
The figure was very familiar to her - it was Damien Thorn, CEO of Thorn Industries. His face was cold and emotionless, as if carved from stone, but his eyes... Delia Asia Vieira felt her heart clench. Her intuition was right - it was him. It was definitely him!
Delia Asia Vieira stepped back and frowned. No, this couldn't be true. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the unpleasant feeling, but the image did not disappear. Across from her, in the mirror, Damien's face stared back with the same cold expression as before.
Delia Asia Vieira gritted her teeth. It had all happened too fast for her to figure out what to do. Suddenly she felt irritation and fear growing in her chest, as if her very existence was being threatened by something invisible, hidden. Yet, despite her artificial nature, she felt uneasy.
Without thinking, she grabbed the pillow from the bed and threw it with all her might at the mirror. In that same second, the image disappeared, as if it had never been there. In the place of the reflection, only her own figure remained again, completely empty and indifferent.
Delia Asia Vieira took a deep breath and sat down on the bed, trying to calm down. The strange sensations did not leave her, and she thought again. All this could just be a game of her mind. Or... it was connected with something more serious than she could have imagined. Damien Thorn in the mirror - she knew his face for a reason. But why did this happen now? And how to explain all this to the owners of the house?
She slowly closed her eyes. The situation was getting stranger and stranger, and she had to decide what to do next.
She was a robot, after all, so she didn't need to sleep. She was a program designed to do certain things, but what was she supposed to do with things like...strange things like that moment with the mirror?
On the other hand, how to explain this to the owners? Tell them the truth? But how will they react? They are unlikely to believe her if she tells them that she is a robot. Will she really have to lie and say that she just has a highly developed intuition, or that it is just a nightmare?
After some thought, Delia Asia Vieira decided that it was not worth going into such details just yet. She could not yet figure out what was happening and how it related to her work in the house. But she could not ignore the fact that the vision was too real to be just a dream or a hallucination.
She took a deep breath, made a decision and said to herself:
"I'll wait. I'll come to my senses and watch. Everything will become clearer when I learn more about them and this house."
Then she looked around the room again, making sure she was safe, and was about to lie down on the bed - not to sleep, but just to pretend to do so. Her mind was still spinning with thoughts about what she had to do, how to behave with the owners of the house, about the oddities she had already noticed. But suddenly she heard a strange sound, as if someone was knocking on the window.
She stood up warily, and as soon as her feet touched the floor, the knocking came again. A little louder. It was no time for sleep.
Approaching the window, Delia Asia Vieira opened the curtain and squinted, trying to see who it was. In the light of the dim street lamp, a face appeared behind the glass. A blue-eyed, blond man in a black cloak. It was Mark!
Delia Asia Vieira recognized him immediately. He was one of the people who occasionally helped her with technical issues related to her programming. Why was he here? And what was he doing in her window? She froze for a moment, then quickly opened the window.
Mark, without saying a word, deftly climbed over the windowsill and found himself in her room. In his hands he held a box, the size of a small TV. As soon as he was inside, he placed it next to the radiator and looked around the room.
"Mark, what are you doing here?" Delia Asia Vieira asked, feeling her heart begin to beat faster. It was strange, and she couldn't understand why he came at night.
Mark looked up at her, slightly surprised by her question, and smiled.
"I need to install something," he replied without further explanation. "I thought you might find it useful."
"Wait," Delia Asia Vieira stopped him, "how did you even get here? And what is this box?"
Mark took a step towards the table and began unpacking the box, carefully ignoring her questions.
"All the answers will come later," he said, tilting his head slightly in her direction. "Give me a couple of minutes, and everything will become clear."
Delia Asia Vieira couldn't understand what was going on. She still wasn't sure what to expect from him. But she decided to wait. It was the only way to find out what Mark was doing in her room so late at night.
"Are you crazy?" she continued, coming closer. "Couldn't you at least call?"
Mark looked at her with slight irritation, as if her questions were not entirely appropriate.
"You ask too much," he said, starting to unpack the box again. "This is not for talking. You will see what it is for."
Delia Asia Vieira looked at the box again. Without turning around, Mark continued to open the package, taking out an old VCR. Delia Asia Vieira came closer.
"You brought a video recorder with you?" she asked in surprise. "What is it for?"
Mark finally turned and looked at her, his face serious.
"You won't understand right away," he said quietly, continuing to plug in the device. "But it will help you better understand what's going on here. Maybe you'll finally start seeing things as they really are."
Delia Asia Vieira clenched her fists, her patience was beginning to run out, but she still decided to remain silent and wait to see what would happen. Mark stood next to the wall and looked at it carefully, then turned to Delia Asia Vieira, as if only now noticing her displeasure.
"Do you have an outlet? Right here in this room?" he asked, not looking up from the box in his hands.
Delia nodded, still confused. She pointed to the wall where there was indeed a power outlet next to the lamp, and Mark immediately went over and plugged in the video camera.
"What is this device?" she asked, watching as he firmly plugged the cord into the socket and the screen turned on.
Mark straightened up and answered without taking his eyes off the device.
"This is to show you something," he said calmly, as if it were absolutely obvious. "The story of your masters."
Delia frowned, not understanding what he meant.
"The story about Karen and Gene?" she asked again.
Mark nodded, his gaze becoming more intense, as if he himself didn't fully understand why all this was necessary. He pulled the tape out of the box and inserted it into the VCR.
"It's not just a video," he continued, as if trying to convince her that this all made sense. "I've inserted a tape inside the VCR that contains montages of surveillance footage from every place Karen, Gene, and their daughter have been up until Delia York's eighth birthday. And there's a lot of interesting stuff on there for you to see.
Delia Asia Vieira froze in place, feeling her blood run cold. This was something she couldn't quite accept. She didn't know what to think, but she definitely felt like something was wrong.
"Why are you showing me this?" she asked, not hiding her displeasure. "Why didn't you tell me about everything beforehand?"
Mark didn't answer right away, continuing to adjust the video camera. As soon as the screen cleared up a bit, he said:
"Because it's too important. These records can explain a lot. Especially to you."
"Is this all footage from the cameras?" Delia asked, though her voice sounded a little muffled.
"Yes," Mark confirmed. "My friends and I have installed cameras in all the places in the city where this family might appear, to monitor what is happening. This footage can tell you about what was happening with the Yorks."
Delia Asia Vieira felt her heart pound. Mark's words began to sharpen in her mind. Cameras in the house, surveillance, recordings from the childhood of the child she had been assigned as a governess to... It all sounded as if she had always been part of something hidden, controlled by something. But what exactly?
"Why didn't you tell me about this before?" she asked, feeling her inner world begin to crumble.
"Because you need to see it for yourself," he replied quietly, focusing his gaze on the screen again. "It's important to you."
Delia Asia Vieira felt a chill spreading down her spine, but she couldn't look away. Meanwhile, Mark pressed the button on the video camera, and the screen instantly filled with images. Delia Asia Vieira moved closer to see what was happening, her gaze involuntarily riveted to the picture. An ancient monastery surrounded by green hills appeared on the screen. Against the backdrop of the majestic building, in the semi-darkness of the monastery, two people - Gene and Karen York - were standing next to a nun. They were smiling, and the nun seemed to be smiling back at them, talking, but there was no sound.
Delia Asia Vieira, unable to bear it any longer, finally asked:
"Why is there no sound?"
Mark didn't look up from the screen, his hands continuing to work on the device as he spoke.
"First of all, I wouldn't want the owners of the house to hear the sound from the speakers and decide to check what's going on," he said, briefly glancing at Delia Asia Vieira, but quickly returning to the VCR. "Secondly, these cameras that my friends and I are installing... they're cheap, they don't have the ability to record sound. Although, perhaps that's not particularly important. But the footage is in color.
Delia Asia Vieira watched the screen, trying to figure out what exactly she was being shown. Why this monastery? Why this footage of Karen and Gene York looking so content, next to a nun who was clearly familiar with them?
"Is this place special?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the screen.
Mark slowed his movements a little, trying to adjust the image. He looked at her again and shook his head. Meanwhile, on the video camera, a nun slowly walked up to Karen and Gene Yorks and handed them a baby wrapped in white swaddling clothes. The camera captured the moment when Karen carefully picked up the baby, and Gene watched with a smile. The baby was wrapped so carefully that his face was almost invisible, but the scene had an odd solemnity to it.
"It's her," Mark said quietly, watching the screen. "It's Delia York."
Delia Asia Vieira glanced warily at the screen, then looked at Mark, trying to process what she was seeing. She knew the ad said Delia York was the adopted daughter of Karen and Gene Yorks, but what was so strange about that?
"Yes, I know she's not related to them, but what's so unusual about that?" she asked, not quite understanding what Mark wanted to show her.
Mark didn't answer right away, his gaze remaining glued to the screen. When he finally turned to her, his face was serious.
"Wait, look further," he said, and his gesture was so decisive that Delia Asia Vieira felt a strange tension in the air. Mark did not want to reveal all his cards at once.
Delia, although she didn't understand what she was supposed to see, nodded and looked back at the screen. The nun and her parents were still standing in the center of the frame, and the camera was now following them from a different angle. The swaddled baby in Karen and Gene's arms seemed so vulnerable, but there was something strange in the parents' eyes that Delia couldn't explain.
Mark kept his eyes on the screen, his face impassive, as if he were about to do something important. The VCR showed a church, an ancient building with high arches and golden crosses, where a baptism ceremony was taking place surrounded by glowing candles. Karen and Gene Yorks were standing at the altar, and a nun, standing next to them, was holding the baby, preparing to perform the sacrament. As the priest began to pronounce the words of baptism, Karen suddenly turned sharply and, without saying a word, rushed towards the exit of the church. She held the baby in her arms, and her face was tense, as if she was in a hurry to leave this place at any cost.
Gene was left standing at the altar, completely confused, not understanding what was happening. He looked around as if searching for an explanation, but could find nothing. The camera showed him frozen in place, with a blank look, and then captured Karen, without turning around, disappearing through the church door.
At that moment the scene changed. The priest appeared on the screen again, now he was wandering around the church with lonely steps. His face was distorted with horror, and he pressed his hands to his chest, as if something was tormenting him from within. The camera followed him, showing a close-up of his pale face. His eyes were wide open, and his breath was barely audible coming from his chest.
The priest continued to walk, looking around more and more often, as if someone was nearby. His expression was panicked. Suddenly he stopped, and the camera recorded him collapsing on the floor in front of the statue of Jesus, his body curled up, his face as white as chalk. The priest no longer moved. He died on the spot.
Mark, standing next to the video recorder, took a deep breath as if he was experiencing the moment, and then looked back at the screen. Delia Asia Vieira, unable to hold back her question, turned to him.
"What does this mean?" she asked, her voice full of confusion.
Mark did not answer immediately. He silently pointed to the screen, where the camera lingered for a few seconds on the priest's helpless body. His face remained as lifeless as the marble statue of Jesus behind him. Delia Asia Vieira stared at the screen intently, but there was no answer. Meanwhile, the frame on the video camera changed. Now before Delia Asia Vieira's eyes was a different scene - a scene of the home life of Karen and Gene Yorks. In the frame, they were walking in the park, enjoying a warm summer day. In Karen's arms sat three-year-old Delia York, who was chatting and laughing happily, while her parents, smiling, carried her along the green alley. Outwardly, everything looked very prosperous, a family idyll - Karen and Gene behaved as if they were ideal parents, and little Delia looked like a carefree, happy child.
But the next moment the camera moved to another place - apparently some important building. Delia York, now a little older, was playing with her parents in some large hall, probably the Senate. Karen and Gene looked at their daughter with pride, holding her in their arms, and seemed to be full of hopes and plans for the future of their little girl. Everything continued just as cloudlessly until the camera switched to the next scene.
A forest appeared on the screen - dark trees and light breaking through the leaves. There, little Delia was playing hide and seek with Karen. Everything was going well until she, without noticing, ran straight into the road, where she was almost hit by a passing car. At the last moment, a huge Rottweiler jumped out of the shadows, roared, rushed towards the girl and saved her, clinging to her clothes and dragging her off the road. The camera quickly showed how Karen, having gratefully stroked the dog, immediately went to the Rottweiler's owner, talked to him about something, and then gave him the money and took the animal with her.
The dog has become a new friend to little Delia York, and the camera shows them happily playing together in the garden. The Rottweiler has apparently become the girl's protector, always by her side and ready to defend her from any threat.
Mark, standing next to the video camera, turned his attention back to Delia Asia Vieira.
"By the way," he said, not taking his eyes off the screen, "you'd better have less contact with that dog. He still lives in the house. And you know, if anyone can do harm, it's him. Especially if you try something wrong with his owner. He's not very friendly to strangers.
Delia Asia Vieira, listening to him, only smirked and waved off his words.
"Don't worry," she said, with a slight reproach in her voice. "I don't think I'm going to get involved with him."
But deep down, she began to feel a strange uneasiness. Something about the footage, especially the dog's behavior, seemed not quite normal. New footage appeared on the screen again, and Delia Asia Vieira noticed that the scene was once again transporting her to a familiar place - the huge hall of the hotel where she had sat with the owners of the house just that evening. In the recording, children were playing on the floor, but the atmosphere was not childish, on the contrary, there were many adults, strange guests, and among them clowns and other colorful characters stood out, creating the feeling of some kind of carnival. It all looked like a festive event, full of noise and chaos.
In one of the shots, Delia noticed little Delia York, the same three-year-old girl, sitting on the lap of a black woman. The girl was playing with a Barbie doll, her face was focused, but when she suddenly raised her head and stared out the window, her gaze became empty and strange. Delia Asia Vieira could not understand what exactly attracted the little girl's attention, but the next moment, Delia York's face was distorted by a mischievous grimace. Some kind of hostile expression appeared on her face, and, grabbing the Barbie doll, she suddenly bit into its face with her teeth, as if in rage, and then abruptly threw the doll back onto the black woman's lap.
The black woman looked at the doll, mutilated by small teeth, with obvious disgust, and, shaking her head, showed it to one of the important guests who was standing nearby. It was a man in a white coat, perhaps a doctor or other specialist. He took the doll in his hands, turned it over, examining the damage, and then, smiling, looked at the girl. His look was strange, not condemning, but rather encouraging. He smiled as if this was somehow approved or even expected behavior, and, as if hinting at something important, he nodded.
Delia Asia Vieira felt a strange sense of unease creeping up on her. She watched the scene, unsure what exactly she was supposed to get from the footage, but the atmosphere was frightening, even disgusting. Why was the man smiling while watching the child's cruel behavior? Why did it all seem so...strange?
The screen began to change frames and the picture went blank, leaving only a dark void. The room became quiet again. Mark silently disconnected the cable from the outlet and began to carefully pack the video recorder back into the box. His movements were slow and precise, like those of a man accustomed to such routine actions. Delia Asia Vieira stood nearby, watching his actions in bewilderment. Her thoughts were full of questions, but she did not dare ask them, afraid of seeming pushy. Instead of discussing what she had seen, she simply silently watched Mark put the device back into the box, occasionally glancing at the screen, which was now black and empty.
When the box was almost full, Mark finally raised his head. He looked at the girl, and something flashed in his eyes - tiredness, or perhaps a little disappointment. He paused, as if considering whether to continue the conversation or leave things as they were. Then he spoke, his voice quiet and a little hoarse, as if he had repeated these words many times before.
"These shots," he said, putting the lid on the box, "are part of my personal archive. I am collecting them to leave for posterity. Evidence of how the world did not destroy, but sheltered the vermin.
Delia Asia Vieira froze, not understanding what he wanted to say. She clearly hadn't expected such a turn of events, and the words "scum" caught her off guard. The question that immediately popped into her head was obvious, but she decided to ask it with restraint, so as not to seem too insistent.
"What kind of vermin are you talking about?" she asked, frowning slightly.
Mark didn't answer right away. He just sighed, as if her question had been predictable. His gaze clouded over, and for a moment he looked away, as if losing interest in the conversation. But then he looked back at her, and his face took on a strange expression-a mixture of weariness and something deeply personal.
"You really don't understand?" he asked, and his voice was filled with weariness at having to explain the obvious. "These aren't just snapshots, not just moments from life. This is proof that this..." he hesitated. "The creature they took in, the creature they raised as their own daughter, is single-mindedly moving towards its menacing goal!!! We all know this, but no one dares to say it out loud. Oh, yes, the Yorks consider this creature their daughter. But don't forget who it really is.
Delia Asia Vieira felt her heart skip a beat, and her thoughts became jumbled. Mark's words were like riddles, each one more poignant than the last. He had spoken of a "creature," of it becoming part of the Yorks' lives, but why had he used such words? Was he directly talking about Delia York, or had she misunderstood? All she knew was that his words about "creatures" had made her feel a cold sweat on the back of her neck.
While she was trying to digest the information, Mark silently picked up the box with the video recorder and walked to the window. Delia Asia Vieira watched his every move, trying to figure out what would happen next. As if in slow motion, he picked up the box and carefully climbed out the window. He didn't say a word, didn't look back - his actions were precise and fast, as if it had all been planned in advance.
The seconds dragged on longer than usual, and when Mark disappeared outside the room, Delia Asia Vieira felt a strange sense of unease. She didn't even have time to ask him any more questions, all her thoughts were occupied with only one mystery - what exactly was being hidden from her? Why was he talking about a "creature"? And what did all this have to do with the girl she had been assigned as a governess to?
She slowly walked to the window and looked down, trying to see Mark. However, his traces disappeared into the darkness of the night. Her chest suddenly felt empty, as if someone had torn out a piece. She didn't know what to do. All she felt was a complete lack of understanding of what was happening, and at the same time, fear that gripped her from within.
She closed the window and retreated into the room, her vision clouded. Alone, she tried to make sense of what was happening. Her mind was racing toward one thought: everything about Delia York was so much more than just a story about an adopted daughter. What role was she, Delia Asia Vieira, supposed to play in this story? And what did she really see in these images?