When archivist Daniel Mercer discovered a box of old film reels in the basement of the abandoned Rialto Theater, he expected the usual decayed home movies and forgotten newsreels. The 16mm film labeled "Echo Test #7" stood out immediately - its canister was suspiciously clean compared to the others, and the label was written in fresh ink despite the theater being closed for twenty years.
The first few minutes showed nothing but an empty stage from a static camera angle. Then, at exactly 4:22, the film glitched. When the image returned, a man in a tattered 1940s-style suit stood center stage. His face flickered between clarity and static, but Daniel could see his mouth moving in silent screams as he clawed at his own throat. The most disturbing detail? The theater curtains in the background matched the exact pattern of the Rialto's distinctive red velvet drapes - the same theater Daniel was standing in right now.
Daniel took the remaining films to Miriam Vasquez, a film preservationist at the university. She confirmed his worst fears - "Echo Test #7" was shot on modern film stock, not vintage 16mm. "This was shot recently," she said, her fingers trembling as she held the frame up to the light. "And the sprocket holes show it's been run through a projector hundreds of times."
That night, Daniel woke to the sound of a projector running in his living room. The screen showed his apartment in perfect detail - including Daniel himself sleeping on the couch. As he watched in horror, the on-screen Daniel woke up screaming and pointed at something behind the camera. The reflection in a mirror showed a second Daniel standing there, grinning as he adjusted the focus.
Research revealed the Rialto Theater was built over the ruins of the Blackwood Asylum, where in 1937, seventeen patients simultaneously reported "seeing themselves" before vanishing. The asylum's sole surviving logbook contained one relevant entry: "Patient #42 claims the walls are screens and we're all just images. Today he cut himself out of the mirror."
Daniel returned to the theater basement and found a hidden editing room behind the projection booth. The walls were covered in strips of film - thousands of frames showing the same man in various stages of terror. At the center of the room sat an ancient Moviola editing machine, its reels threaded with a film labeled "Final Cut."
Daniel tried to burn the editing room, but the flames wouldn't catch. Instead, they flickered like projected light. The strips of film on the walls began melting - not burning, but developing into new images showing Daniel at various points in his life, always with a shadowy figure just out of frame.
The police report noted Daniel's apartment was empty except for a still-warm projector and a single film canister. When played, it showed Daniel sitting in an editing room, frantically splicing together frames of his own life. As the film progressed, his movements became more desperate, his face more distorted. The final shot was a close-up of his eye, the pupil expanding to fill the screen before the film snapped.