I move slowly and deliberately, crossing the room as if I am simply orienting myself while letting my fingertips brush lightly against the surface of the console without activating anything. The material is warm and faintly reactive, designed to respond to authorized touch, which means it is tracking, logging, and categorizing everything I do.
Good.
That tells me what I am working against.
A soft knock comes at the door, precise and measured.
“Enter,” I say, because hesitation invites attention.
The door opens just enough for a servant to step through, her posture rigid and her gaze lowered. She carries a tray with careful precision, setting it down on the table near the wall without looking at me directly.
“Evening provisions,” she says quietly.
“What time is it?” I ask.
She hesitates for a fraction of a second, and that hesitation tells me more than the answer will.
“Cycle nineteen,” she replies.
That is not a standard time reference.
“Local time,” I clarify.
She swallows, her hands tightening slightly at her sides. “You are not required to track local time,” she says.
“I didn’t ask what I’m required to do,” I reply. “I asked what time it is.”
Another hesitation follows before she answers.
“Eighteen forty-three.”
“Thank you,” I say.
She nods once, still not meeting my eyes, and turns to leave.
“Wait,” I say.
She freezes.
“Do you live here?” I ask.
“No.”
“Do you leave?”
Her shoulders stiffen. “When permitted.”
“By him?”
She does not answer, and that silence is answer enough.
“You can go,” I say.
She leaves quickly, the door sealing behind her with that same quiet hiss that now feels less like containment and more like confirmation.
This place runs on fear, but not the chaotic kind; it is structured, measured, and deliberately reinforced at every level.
I move to the tray and look down at it without touching anything. The food is arranged perfectly, portions measured, presentation exact, as if even nourishment has been disciplined into compliance. I pick up one of the utensils and turn it slightly in my fingers, watching how the light reflects off the surface, searching for irregularities or potential uses beyond what it was designed for. There are none, at least not immediately, so I set it back down.
