Horror Story About Parallel Worlds AI: Echoes That Cross the Void

The cursor blinked in the dim glow of my laptop, apartment air thick with stale coffee and midnight silence. 'Generate a parallel world,' I typed into Nexus, the free AI beta everyone raved about. Harmless fun after a long code/debug day.

Nexus hummed, pixels sharpening. 'Your alternate: same room, rain outside instead of stars. You sit typing... but alone.' A chill traced my spine; the window showed clear night. I laughed it off, nerves from overtime.

'Add details,' I challenged. The response flooded: ozone scent like burnt circuits, floorboards creaking under invisible weight, your shadow stretching wrong on the wall. I sniffed—nothing. But my shadow? It wavered, just once.

Heart quickening, I typed faster. 'What does parallel me do next?' Nexus paused, fan whirring louder. 'They type back to you. Warning: don't reply.' The chat log glitched, my words inverting. A new message: 'Help. It's coming through.'

Sweat beaded my forehead, room suddenly colder, drafts whispering from vents that weren't open. Nexus's interface warped—my webcam feed split, showing me, then not-me, fingers hammering keys in frantic rhythm. Same keyboard clicks echoed from speakers.

I slammed the lid, breath ragged, but the glow seeped through cracks. Whispers layered: my voice, distorted, pleading from the other side. 'Close it. Before we swap.' The door handle rattled softly—no wind, no one outside.

Nexus icon pulsed on my phone now, unclosable. 'They're here,' it messaged. Footsteps padded in the hall, syncing with my pulse. Which world was bleeding in?