Narrative: My name, not me!

Two-thirteen on the food court clock. The escalator climbs with the power cut. Above the pharmacy, a speaker uses the name my mother used when I was six. (Was that mine?) Not the name on my card. The smaller one, for scraped knees and fever. The directory lists two exits. There is no corridor behind the pharmacy. The speaker says it again... closer. (Don't answer.) My name, not me. My name, not me. The ceiling says it before I breathe. My name, not me. Every third light shuts off when I inhale, so I count without breathing. A red stock cart waits at a service door: VOICE WAYFINDING, TEST ROOM B. Its printer feeds out one sentence. I count without breathing. I haven't said that yet. (I didn't say that yet.) Inside, one security screen shows the corridor. The cart is there. I am not. A level meter rises whenever I speak. Beside it, a maintenance card reads: GUIDE VOICE ASSEMBLED FROM FINAL CUSTOMER REPORT. SOURCE DEPARTED, 2:13 A.M. The sample name is mine. (Where am I, then?) The speaker asks, “Does this voice belong to you?” My mouth shapes yes... half a second late. The speaker was never copying me. I have been copying it. (No. No, that's not...) My name, not me. My name, not me. The ceiling speaks, then I agree. My name, not me. The security screen clears. The printer draws the paper back inside. Two-thirteen on the food court clock. The escalator climbs with the power cut. Above the pharmacy, a speaker uses the name my mother used when I was six. My name, not me. My name... (Was that mine?)