The evening was just beginning.

The air grew thicker, almost tangible, as if the room itself was closing in and then a strangled gasp broke through the stillness. User 710 stiffened, their breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts.

For a heartbeat, everything stopped. User 707 watched, horrified, as the life seemed to drain from User 710's face. The dim light from the computer screens cast long shadows, making User 710's wide, panicked eyes look like dark, hollow pits.

The room felt suddenly too small, its walls pressing in, the ceiling lowering as though it might crush them all. The sounds of muffled keystrokes and low whispers were swallowed by the growing silence. User 710's hands clawed at their chest, nails digging into the fabric of their uniform as if trying to tear away an unseen force. Sweat glistened on their forehead, beads of it trailing down like tears.

Fear swept through the cubicle, a silent wave that left everyone rooted to their spots. User 714's voice cracked the silence, a desperate cry for help that echoed off the walls but no one moved. They were frozen, statues caught in a tableau of macabre, unable to react as if paralyzed by an unseen force.

User 710's legs gave out, collapsing to the floor in a heap, trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. The sight snapped User 707 out of their trance, adrenaline surging through their veins. They dropped to their knees beside User 710, fingers trembling as they searched for a pulse. The heartbeat was there but faint, fluttering weakly beneath the skin, like a bird struggling to escape a cage.

"Somebody call for medical!" User 707's voice was hoarse and edged with panic. They looked up to see the other faces in the cubicle — pale, eyes wide with fear, but still unmoving. The only sound was the incessant ticking of the clock, each second a hammer driving home the reality of their situation.

Finally, User 714 sprung to action, fumbling clumsily with the communicator. Their fingers shook as they dialed, stuttering into the device, voice breaking with every word. Time seemed to stretch, the seconds dragging into minutes, as the air grew thicker, every breath a struggle.

The oppressive silence was broken by the sound of footsteps — swift, purposeful. Relief washed over User 707 as the door swung open and a team of medical personnel stormed in. Their white uniforms were stark against the dimness of the room, their movements quick and efficient. They surrounded User 710, examining, checking and stabilizing, all in a flurry of motion that contrasted sharply with the paralysis that had gripped the cubicle.

User 707 stepped back, giving them space but their heart pounded in their chest. They watched as the medics lifted User 710 onto a stretcher, moving with the precision of those who had seen this scene many times before. As the medics hurried out, User 707 caught a glimpse of User 710's face — pale, eyes half-open, a mix of relief and worry haunting their features.

User 909 was nowhere to be seen, their absence an unsettling void in the midst of the chaos. It added to the growing sense of foreboding that hung in the air like a shroud.

User 707 sank back into their chair, hands gripping the edges of the desk. The screen in front of them flickered, the open tasks waiting, as if taunting them with normalcy. But their mind was elsewhere, spinning with the implications of what had just happened. What could have caused User 710's collapse?

Was it the result of those "adjustments" User 909 had mentioned? Was this a harbinger of more chaos to come?

A soft chime disrupted their thoughts, a new message appearing on the screen. The words were stark, illuminated against the dark backdrop of the room. With a shaky breath, User 707 opened it, half-expecting more cryptic instructions or a warning.

"Meet me at the emergency staircase. Time is of the essence. - Anonymous"

A shiver ran down their spine. The urgency of the message was palpable, the anonymity unsettling. Who could this be, reaching out in secrecy? And why now, amidst the growing chaos?

The words "emergency staircase" echoed in their mind, a place known for its isolation and security — far away from the prying eyes and ears of the cubicle.

Despite the fear tightening in their chest, a flicker of curiosity sparked. Was this the key to unraveling the mysteries that suffocated their existence, or was it another trap laid by the invisible strings controlling their every move?

They looked around the cubicle. The usual hum of keystrokes was now silent, everyone seemingly lost in their own thoughts. User 707 stood slowly, the chair creaking beneath them, and glanced at the door. Their gloved hands brushed the edge of the desk fingertips lingering on the edge of the metal as they considered their next move.

If they went, they might find answers, a way to escape the tightening noose of control. But if it was a trap or if User 909 found out...

The ticking clock pounded in their ears, each second a heartbeat, pushing them towards the unknown.

There was only one way to find out.

There was only one way to find out.

The light outside the windows had dimmed to a muted gray, swallowing the last traces of daylight. The cubicle was quiet now, an eerie calm settling over it like a shroud. User 710's desk melted into the surroundings like they had never been there at all. The medics had moved swiftly, their faces expressionless, treating the body as just another task to complete. Within minutes, User 710's presence had been erased, leaving only an emptiness that clawed at User 707's chest.

User 707 stood near the emergency staircase, their back pressed against the cold metal of the door. They glanced around the narrow, dimly lit space. It was quiet except for the distant hum of machinery and the occasional drip of water from a leaky pipe. The air was musty, tinged with a faint scent of industrial cleaner.

Beside them, the anonymous figure - an old acquaintance from before things had changed -leaned against the wall, a bottle of something strong held loosely in their hand. They had managed to smuggle it in, a rare act of rebellion against the unspoken rules that governed their lives.

User 707 took the bottle, tipping it back and letting the liquid burn its way down their throat. It didn't help the way they hoped it would. The ache in their chest remained, heavy and oppressive.

"To User 710," their companion said softly, lifting the bottle in a mock toast. There was a bitterness in their voice, a sadness that matched the emptiness in User 707's heart.

"To User 710," User 707 echoed, their voice cracking. They took another long swallow, closing their eyes against the tears threatening to spill. "Gone, just like that," they whispered. "How can they be so... cold about it?"

The figure beside them shrugged. "It's how things are here. You know that. One wrong move and you're erased. They can't afford to show emotion. It's all about efficiency."

User 707 nodded numbly, staring at the shadowy corners of the staircase. They had known this, of course. Everyone did. It was part of the unspoken truth of their existence. But seeing it happen - watching the life drain out of User 710's eyes and then watching as their body was whisked away like garbage - was something else entirely. It made the cold reality of their lives feel more suffocating than ever.

The staircase door creaked open slightly, spilling a sliver of light across the floor. User 707 stiffened, tucking the bottle away. Their heartbeat quickened, eyes darting to the darkened corners, but no one appeared. The moment stretched, taut and tense, before the door swung shut again with a soft click.

"I have to go," User 707 said suddenly, straightening. "I'm supposed to meet with User 651. I got permission, but... I have to let User 909 know."

The figure beside them nodded, eyes shadowed with concern. "Be careful," they said. "You know how dangerous it can be to ask too many questions. They're watching us more closely than ever."

User 707 nodded, pulling out their communicator. Fingers trembling slightly, they typed a quick message to User 909.

"Request to proceed to meet User 651. Location: Designated meeting area. Time: 19:00."

The reply came almost instantly as if User 909 had been waiting for the request.

"Request approved. Meeting confirmed. Remember to smile."

A chill ran down User 707's spine at the last line. Remember to smile. For a moment, they considered turning back, canceling the meeting. But no - they needed to know more about what was happening.

"I'll see you later," User 707 said, voice steadier slightly steadier now. They took another large swig from the bottle, finishing off the remains.

Their companion nodded, raising their own bottle in a silent farewell. With a last glance at the darkened staircase, User 707 slipped back into the corridor, moving quickly through the dimly lit halls. The sounds of their footsteps echoed in the empty space, each step a reminder of the isolation that cloaked their world.

They got in the car and another person drove them to their destination.

❛Death was in that poisonous wave, and in its gulf a fitting grave❜

— Edgar Allan Poe

a/n: DUN DUN DUNNNN this is turning out to be quite the interesting tale, ain't it? ;)

the chapters and themes are deliberately slow and intense yet vague, since i couldn't reveal a lot. hope it's working out!

i am LOVING how this is working out, and truly, i hope to be able to do this world some justice. Its too good to just be revealed.

i truly hope y'all are enjoying this, thank you for reading!