Chapter 29 - The Second Floor
The staircase creaked beneath my feet.
Rick climbed first.
Every few steps he paused, sniffed the air, then continued upward.
The second floor looked nothing like the first.
Instead of bedrooms, there were offices.
Rows of them.
Each door carried a brass nameplate.
Not names.
Years.
1948.
1949.
1950.
1951.
1952.
1953.
1954.
I opened the first office.
Dust covered every surface.
A typewriter sat on the desk beside stacks of handwritten reports.
Every report documented a single family.
Daily habits.
Arguments.
Medical appointments.
Vacations.
Even dreams.
One sentence repeated throughout every file.
Observation remains uncontaminated.
The next office looked newer.
Computers replaced typewriters.
Digital storage replaced paper.
But the reports were identical.
Only the technology had changed.
Rick stopped outside the office marked 2026.
The door was already open.
Inside...
Everything was modern.
Multiple large monitors.
Fiber-optic cables.
Satellite communication equipment.
Coffee still steamed inside a mug.
Someone had been here minutes earlier.
On the largest monitor appeared a live map.
Thousands of blinking blue dots.
Each represented an occupied house.
One red dot blinked brighter than the others.
My house.
The cursor moved by itself.
The map zoomed outward.
Nearby houses turned yellow.
Then orange.
Then red.
A message appeared.
Containment Radius Expanding.
The realtor stared at another monitor.
"This isn't surveillance anymore."
"What is it?"
She pointed toward a graph tracking behavior changes.
People leaving home less often.
Curtains staying closed longer.
Sleeping patterns shifting.
Conversations decreasing.
The software wasn't merely watching.
It was predicting.
Then adjusting.
A printer suddenly activated behind us.
One fresh report slid into the tray.
Subject:
YOU
Status:
Now Aware.
Recommended Response:
Isolation Phase.
Rick growled toward the hallway.
May you like
Someone was slowly clapping.
---
