09-01-2026, 01:11 AM
Nazariy stood in the middle of the room and did not sit. For nearly a minute he simply turned in place, studying the walls. They were smooth. That was the first thing he noticed. Smooth walls without cracks, water stains, or strips of fallen plaster hanging like old skin. There were no dark corners where insects had made their homes, no rust bleeding down from pipes, no smell of damp concrete. He ran his fingertips along the wall and looked at them afterward. They came away clean.
He pressed his palm against the wall again, harder this time. He crouched and examined the seam where the walls met the floor. He touched it, then knocked twice with one knuckle.
Tap. Tap.
He looked up at the ceiling. It had no holes. “It’s inside the ceiling,” he said quietly.
His attention moved to the ventilation grate. He approached it, tilted his head, and listened to the soft mechanical breathing coming from behind it. After a moment, he glanced back toward Kaelan.
“Everything is inside.”
He opened the washroom door and stopped. The room was almost painfully white. A clean sink. A mirror. A toilet. A shower. Nazariy stared at the toilet for several seconds before looking into the mirror.
He approached his reflection cautiously.
The bright lights made him look even paler than he expected. He raised one hand and touched the glass. His reflection did the same. He leaned closer, studying his own eyes, then pulled his hand away.
He returned to the main room and approached the bed. He pressed one hand into the mattress. It sank beneath his palm and slowly returned to its original shape when he lifted it. Nazariy pressed again, harder this time, watching with growing interest.
When he sat down, the mattress gave beneath him. Nazariy immediately stood.
“What the-”
He walked around the bed once, inspecting it from every angle, then apparently decided it posed no immediate threat. He sat again and bounced once, experimentally. The mattress moved beneath him.
The corner of his mouth lifted. He looked toward Kaelan.
“Your bed is broken. It moves.”
He reached for the clothing that had been left for him and examined the shirt between his fingers. The stitching was clean and even. There were no stains, no holes, no smell of mildew. He held it against himself for a moment before folding it neatly and placing it back where he had found it.
Then he heard the hum. It came from somewhere inside the walls. Low and steady, almost too faint to notice. He turned his head toward it and listened. The sound continued.
He looked at the ceiling, then the floor, then the vent.
The building was full of noises, but they were hidden noises. Machines breathing behind walls. Electricity passing through unseen wires. Water moving through pipes that had no visible source. Nazariy put his ear against the wall.
The hum was stronger there. Everything inside the walls... He remained like that for several seconds before straightening.
His eyes moved around the room again. He seemed to consider the walls, the ceiling, the strange machines hidden behind them.
“You said real work happens here,” he said. “Do people live here?”
He didn't wait long for an answer. His attention had already settled on a small sensor near the ceiling. He walked beneath it and looked up.
“That watches?”
Nazariy studied it for another moment.
Then he smiled. Good
He reached into his pocket and curled his fingers around one of his painted rocks. The familiar shape seemed to settle something in him. His hand remained there as he looked toward the door, then at the walls surrounding him.
“No Shaykra,” he said.
His thumb rubbed absently over the rock.
“None of my friends.”
He seemed to find that more disappointing than frightening.
Nazariy crossed to the bed and sat down again. This time he did not immediately stand. He lowered himself onto his back and stared at the ceiling, listening to the hidden machinery.
After a while, he lifted one hand toward the sensor and gave it a small wave, wondering who watched.
“Good night.”
He pressed his palm against the wall again, harder this time. He crouched and examined the seam where the walls met the floor. He touched it, then knocked twice with one knuckle.
Tap. Tap.
He looked up at the ceiling. It had no holes. “It’s inside the ceiling,” he said quietly.
His attention moved to the ventilation grate. He approached it, tilted his head, and listened to the soft mechanical breathing coming from behind it. After a moment, he glanced back toward Kaelan.
“Everything is inside.”
He opened the washroom door and stopped. The room was almost painfully white. A clean sink. A mirror. A toilet. A shower. Nazariy stared at the toilet for several seconds before looking into the mirror.
He approached his reflection cautiously.
The bright lights made him look even paler than he expected. He raised one hand and touched the glass. His reflection did the same. He leaned closer, studying his own eyes, then pulled his hand away.
He returned to the main room and approached the bed. He pressed one hand into the mattress. It sank beneath his palm and slowly returned to its original shape when he lifted it. Nazariy pressed again, harder this time, watching with growing interest.
When he sat down, the mattress gave beneath him. Nazariy immediately stood.
“What the-”
He walked around the bed once, inspecting it from every angle, then apparently decided it posed no immediate threat. He sat again and bounced once, experimentally. The mattress moved beneath him.
The corner of his mouth lifted. He looked toward Kaelan.
“Your bed is broken. It moves.”
He reached for the clothing that had been left for him and examined the shirt between his fingers. The stitching was clean and even. There were no stains, no holes, no smell of mildew. He held it against himself for a moment before folding it neatly and placing it back where he had found it.
Then he heard the hum. It came from somewhere inside the walls. Low and steady, almost too faint to notice. He turned his head toward it and listened. The sound continued.
He looked at the ceiling, then the floor, then the vent.
The building was full of noises, but they were hidden noises. Machines breathing behind walls. Electricity passing through unseen wires. Water moving through pipes that had no visible source. Nazariy put his ear against the wall.
The hum was stronger there. Everything inside the walls... He remained like that for several seconds before straightening.
His eyes moved around the room again. He seemed to consider the walls, the ceiling, the strange machines hidden behind them.
“You said real work happens here,” he said. “Do people live here?”
He didn't wait long for an answer. His attention had already settled on a small sensor near the ceiling. He walked beneath it and looked up.
“That watches?”
Nazariy studied it for another moment.
Then he smiled. Good
He reached into his pocket and curled his fingers around one of his painted rocks. The familiar shape seemed to settle something in him. His hand remained there as he looked toward the door, then at the walls surrounding him.
“No Shaykra,” he said.
His thumb rubbed absently over the rock.
“None of my friends.”
He seemed to find that more disappointing than frightening.
Nazariy crossed to the bed and sat down again. This time he did not immediately stand. He lowered himself onto his back and stared at the ceiling, listening to the hidden machinery.
After a while, he lifted one hand toward the sensor and gave it a small wave, wondering who watched.
“Good night.”