-- if it's not actually what we think, like, it's this place that's real and us who aren't?

[The video starts abruptly, like the one recording is too hasty, too anxious to wait for the camera to start working before he's already talking; and so the first sentence is cut off in the beginning. The video shows Stiles, sitting on the floor of what seems to be a basement, leaning against a door. Very little else is seen; the video focuses on his face.

It's nothing out of the ordinary that he's speaking with his hands flailing through the air, making gestures -- but his face looks drawn, tired, like something more than his usual anxiety mixed with his babbling.]

Just, consider this, okay? Everything we know so far indicates that this place is, you know, real, at least in the sense that the possessed people knew about galaxies that exist in the real world, and historical events that have actually happened. So what if we're the ones who don't match? What if we think we're real but aren't? [A pause as he coughs, turns to look over his shoulder at-- the door? before continuing.]

I mean, obviously we're real in the sense we're alive, but what if we're not who we think? We could be clones of the real us, and the real us are back home, that's why nobody back home has realized we've even left or anything, because we haven't. And that's why we're so easily revived when we die, because they just make a new clone and implant the same memories as the previous clone had!

[He speaks all of this in quick succession, like a revelation, like he's completely convinced this could be the actual truth. His eyes carry a strange look.]

I guess it's impossible to confirm, but, I just-- [He waves his hand to indicate thought to share the theory, and the movement hits the tablet that clatters down from where Stiles had it propped against his knee; for a few, blurry moments, it shows a door, beaten and battered, with dents and scorch marks, like someone has tried really hard to get it to open. On top of all that, there is a spiral drawn on the door in red marker.

Those who have been to the chapel might recognize it to be the morgue, the door to be one of those that hold inside the bodies of those who may have died here. (This particular door holds inside the body of one Malia Tate, Stiles's girlfriend. Suffice to say he's not taking her loss very well.)

A hand comes to view, and the tablet is turned upright again. Stiles peers down, scratching his chin with the hand that isn't holding the recorder.]

Oops, sorry. But, um, anyway-- that's it, I guess. Clones. Discuss.

[Beep. The video goes black.]