Dr. Robert Crawthan, Jon’s labmate

The elevator doors slid shut with a soft hiss.

Joana looked up from her thoughts to find a familiar, round face smiling at her.

“Morning, Dr. Kekyll,” came the warm voice of Dr. Robert Crawthan. He stepped in with a thermos in one hand, the faint scent of cinnamon coffee trailing behind him. “You’re cutting it close again.”

Joana blinked. Dr. Crawthan. Jon’s old lab-mate and departmental co-conspirator in all things caffeine and research politics. But there was no spark of confusion in his eyes. No recognition of anything amiss. His smile was the same, his posture relaxed, utterly normal.

“Morning, Rob,” she said, trying to sound equally casual as her mind whirred. He knows me as Joana.

Crawthan leaned against the back wall of the elevator, shifting his thermos from hand to hand. “Got another late night with the console? You’ve had that mad scientist gleam in your eye all week. You know I’m going to start charging you for the extra power draw.”

Joana chuckled reflexively. “Guilty,” she said, sipping the coffee she’d forgotten she was holding. “I lost track of time in the external modules again.”

Rob whistled, low and theatrical. “That network overlqay branch is a bear. But if anyone’s gonna tame it, it’s you. Still can’t believe you figured out phase contouring without scrambling your brain.”

Joana gave him a side glance, her voice light. “You remember me working on that?”

“Of course,” Rob said, tapping his temple. “You were already tinkering with that back when you presented at the Cognition Symposium two years ago. Scared the hell outta half the ethics board.”

Joana’s breath caught subtly.

That never happened… not to Jon.

But to Joana - it had.

The elevator stopped on the sixth floor. They both stepped out together into the corridor, passing rows of departmental posters. Joana scanned them absently, searching for signs of altered reality. Sure enough, one poster bore her current face under the bold headline:
“Dr. Joana Kekyll – Cognitive and Identity Mapping.”

The photo showed her smiling confidently, exactly as she appeared now.

Rob matched her pace as they walked. “You ever sleep?” he teased. “I don’t think I’ve seen you take a full day off since the grant came through. You keep this up, they’re gonna name a wing after you.”

“I’ll take a break after I publish the next set,” Joana said, heartbeat quickening. “Hey… can I ask something kind of weird?”

“Always,” Rob said without hesitation.

“If someone’s perception of reality was… nudged. Like, shifted subtly without them knowing. How would you know it worked?”

Rob rubbed his chin, considering. “Another Kekyll brainteaser, eh? Well, assuming perfect integration - no memory dissonance, no psychic resistance - you wouldn’t. That’s the trick, isn’t it? The subject believes it’s always been true. Only way to spot it is if you already know what changed.” He paused, then grinned. “Is this one of your ‘for a friend’ questions?”

Joana just smiled. “Something like that.”

They stopped outside the lab door. Rob fished out his keycard. “Hey,” he said, turning toward her, expression softening, “don’t burn yourself out chasing theoretical ghosts. You’ve already made it. Nobody’s expecting miracles overnight.”

Joana’s throat tightened. He means that. He means me.

“Thanks, Rob,” she said sincerely.

But as he unlocked the door and stepped inside, Joana lingered a moment in the hallway.

Her mind raced with possibility. What if I test the awareness settings externally?

A stealth trial. Minimal variables. Non-invasive. No lasting imprint. He’ll never know it happened… unless I let him remember.

Joana smiled faintly, her fingers already drifting toward her phone where she could tether the RAC’s mobile sync to initiate a proximity-based overlay script.

“Let’s see what your brain does with a little alteration of your own, Rob.”