| Brand | Western Digital |
| Model | WD1600BEKT |
| Size | 1690 GB |
| Found in | Laptop bought at thrift store |
| Condition | good |
| Notes | very loud drive |
Arrival
The building was not on any map. That didn’t bother Ray.
He was told to report to Unit Zero, which sounded like a typo or a joke. But the key card worked on the fourth floor of a low, concrete apartment block behind an unmarked strip of field. The kind of building that had gone out of fashion but not out of use.
The unit itself was clean. White walls. Empty. No furniture besides a chair and a cabinet. No instructions.
He stayed one night. Then another. On the third, a voice crackled through the ceiling: “Please proceed to Evaluation.”
Evaluation Room One
He opened the door and found a hospital bed. A man was already in it — still, pale, mouth fixed in a scream. But the scream made no sound. His limbs were rigid, lifeless. Plastic?
Ray stepped closer.
It wasn’t a man. It was a training dummy. Hooked to machines that beeped slowly, out of sync. A monitor showed vital signs. There were none.
The lights dimmed and flickered once.
“Continue.”
Evaluation Room Two
Down the hallway was a printer. Old. Thick with dust. A sign read: HANDS OFF. It began printing as Ray approached.
One sheet. Then another.
Blank pages.
Dozens of them.
He reached for one and the printer jammed. The screen blinked.
Error 00. Unit Zero.
The lights overhead buzzed like wasps trapped in plastic.
Evaluation Room Three
The door was turquoise. Too cheerful. It belonged in a motel, not this place.
Behind it: concrete. No windows. A faint humming, like an air conditioner in a neighboring room you can’t locate. The door had no handle from the inside.
He waited.
After what might’ve been an hour, the humming stopped. The door clicked open on its own.
Data Room
A corridor turned sharply and dropped him into a chilled space lined with cables and fans. Yellow wires poured from racks like veins. Tags fluttered as cold air stirred them.
A man was there. Mid-gesture. Frozen in place.
Another man’s hand pushed the door shut behind Ray.
“Evaluation in progress,” someone whispered from the dark.
Observation Chamber
Behind glass, more figures stood watching. They never moved. They only reflected.
Inside the room, another dummy lay on a bed, surrounded by technicians who didn’t blink.
Ray looked closer. One of them was him — or someone wearing his shirt, holding his stance.
He turned around, but the hallway behind him was gone. Only the glass remained.
His breath fogged the surface. The figure on the other side mirrored it a half-second late.
System Core
Lights blinked in organized chaos. Every port was labeled, but none made sense. “BIO-32,” “TEST1,” “NOENTRY.”
The cables tangled at Ray’s feet, warm to the touch.
A single unplugged cord hung loose. It twitched occasionally, like it was breathing.
He stepped over it carefully.
Something laughed inside the wall.
Exit Tunnel
A ramp sloped down forever. Fluorescents buzzed overhead, one every six feet. No cars. No sign of use.
His footsteps echoed, but not his own.
He walked for a long time before realizing the slope never ended — just repeated. Like a loop of concrete dreaming itself forward.
He sat. The floor was cold.
The lights flickered, and suddenly the ramp was behind him.
Classroom
Fluorescent calm. A dozen chairs. A projector.
The sunlight filtering in made everything feel artificial. As if someone had rendered the idea of a classroom but forgotten to populate it.
On the whiteboard, someone had written:
“Do you understand your role?”
There was no marker nearby. No eraser.
Ray sat in the nearest seat.
And waited.
Conclusion
Eventually, the voice returned.
“You’ve completed your evaluation.”
A tone played — brief, melodic, almost kind.
He stood.
He walked back through the tunnel.
Through the core.
Through the glass.
The turquoise door opened before he touched it. His unit was still clean. Still white. Still empty.
On the floor, a single sheet of paper. Printed.
UNIT ZERO: PASSED.
He placed it on the cabinet.
He sat in the chair.
And waited.
