Written 2024-12-28
The flickering is dull at this point. The bulb's been busted for a few days, and Maintenance has yet to come. I wonder what's taking them so long. The walls are holding up, and so are the cabinets, the shelves, the stands... Only a matter of time before some dust crumbles the whole thing, and I've got to call them up.
I stand—I'm sure I look worse for wear, but I must endure—and begrudgingly walk toward my beloathed Control Panel. Everything had hitherto been stable—my pillars stood tall, my files were kept organised, my job, though not easy, remained under control—, but recent changes had broken Routine. The pillars of marble around the halls were now pillars of folders stacked on my desks, and the desks were now barely holding themselves, let alone the folders' weights. Each file named, categorised—Decision, Response, Relation...—, now had their tags blurred and muddy.
I pick up my lovers'—at least, I believe I do; I'm too tired to decipher the monochrome stain of paper—, discarded on Desk 4 under some others, and set it aside on my Control Panel. Yet, I open it nary. It just is, there. Forming a headrest with my palms, I sigh. I get up to make myself a cold brew with movements so static, one could confuse them for planned, prepared, practiced. And in a sense, they were. It hadn't been much time since this became my new Routine, but I still wasn't fully adjusted to it.
I'm exhausted. My gods-forsaken Control Panel isn't as robust as it was just weeks, nay, days ago, and my Library's lost Indexes. Worst of all, the pipes are busted, and a thick cloud of steam is in constant motion around the place. It's so hard to manage, but what else can one do? One must... work through it.
And in continuing my job, my Purpose, I Fall.
...
...
Has it been days? No! The power, the documents!? Has it all been for nothing...? The steam's thicker than ever, it's suffocating. Where's Maintenance when we– when I need them?! I swallow smoke, I choke. I get a glimpse of the large LED display: it had been mere hours. Thank the gods—I crawl toward it, climb the stairs with all the force of Will, and rest my head against the hidden chamber behind the display. An emergency? That's what it was made for, anyway. But... this may just be an overreaction.
I must remain here for some more time, then. I can't fix this myself. Gods.
Where's Maintenance?