Jacob looked around the tiny room with the two-way mirror to his left, panting heavily. His eyes settled on the face of the man seated before him, also struggling to catch his breath. It took Jacob a second to remember who Mateo was after the ordeal they had just experienced. Mateo, having finally calmed himself enough to move on from the situation, stood up and extended a hand down to Jacob, encouraging him to stand as well. Still winded, Jacob grabbed the man’s forearm and hoisted himself up.
“Come, let’s discuss this in the other room,” Mateo instructed and walked to the door. Jacob followed close behind.
Upon exiting, Mateo turned to the door directly to the right of the one they had just passed through, entering the post-analysis room on the other side of the two-way mirror. A man sat at the table facing the mirror. “2 minutes, 43 seconds,” said the man to Mateo as he took a seat next to him. “28 seconds longer than last time,” Mateo said, turning to grin at Jacob now sitting to his right, knees turned towards his trainer. “Progress,” Mateo added with a sincerity that Jacob felt was unwarranted. Nothing about his latest Field entry practice session felt progressive unless the measure of progress, in this case, was an increased lack of control over his emotional state. He knew that this session had scared Mateo. He might be able to mask it now, Jacob thought, but his raw reaction, moments after exiting the connection was one of pure fear. Mateo winced as Jacob recalled the events in his mind, indicating that Jacob’s internal dialogue could be heard ringing out in the Field by anyone with significant connectivity training. Jacob forced himself to move on from his recollection.
Mateo’s assistant slid the tablet he was holding across the table into Mateo’s hands without a word. The skilled Field trainer regained complete composure as he scrolled through the data displayed on the screen. His assistant stood and began checking Jacob’s vitals. He noted his heartbeat returning to normal as he situated himself once more in the present.
“Vitals are normal,” said the man. Mateo nodded once in acknowledgment.
“I’ve been talking to other residents,-” Jacob paused mid-sentence, searching for the best way to express himself, “- and they do not seem to be experiencing the same issues when training as I do.”
“Well, of course not. They are not you. Each Longeavitate will have a somewhat different experience during preliminary Field training.” Mateo’s delivery of the response was so “matter of fact” that it sent a sudden bolt of frustration through Jacob’s chest. He calmed himself before continuing, so as not to appear inflammatory. “They aren’t taking over in the way that I am,” he finally let out.
Mateo, who had not looked over at the boy since they sat down, now shot a piercing stare directly into Jacob’s eyes. He must have sensed how off-putting the look was to Jacob as he softened his expression before speaking.
“You’re right. Your ability is unlike anything I have ever encountered. This doesn’t necessarily mean that they are troublesome, per se. I would consider them more of a challenge to harness. I am confident, however, that the challenge will reap an incredible reward, both for you, and our kind,” Mateo grinned and swung his knees around to face Jacob.
The last words of the sentence rung out in Jacob’s mind: our kind.
“People are afraid of me,” Jacob confessed, hanging his head.
“We are typically afraid of what we don’t understand. The entire experience is terrifying for everyone. I wouldn’t take it personally,” Mateo said in an attempt to reassure him.
“Some of the people I met when I first arrived now avoid me completely. They avoid eye contact and turn away when they see me approaching.” There was no need for hyper-vigilance to note the sadness in Jacob’s tone. He thought of Emelie in particular, who rejected him entirely at this point. During dinner the previous day, she wasn’t subtle in her avoidance of him, standing up from the table she had been sitting at as soon as he and Amir approached to sit down. He knew it was in reaction to him, as she avoided him like the plague ever since their second week at the Facility. He couldn’t blame her, really. Their last conversation had led to such a traumatic experience, it left Jacob reeling for weeks afterward. Now, when all he wanted to do was apologize, he was shut out completely.
“The more we train, the better you will get at controlling it,” Mateo said confidently. Jacob was not so certain and wondered if it would be possible to control at all.
Mateo looked him over, studying his face before breaking away. “ Tell me about the experiences with others,” he took the tablet into one hand before giving all of his attention back to Jacob. When Mateo gave you his undivided attention, it was overwhelming, Jacob thought. He was fully invested, mind spirit and body, as though you were the only one in the room. Jacob shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with this enormous pressure. Mateo did not let up, even though Jacob had a feeling he was well aware of the discomfort this caused. He would do this without fail during every post-analysis session. “Are you taking over every time you have a conversation with someone or only during physical contact?
“Seems to happen at random. I’m not sure how, but it always seems to happen when I think of my sister…” Jacob trailed off thinking of her.
“How many people has this happened with here?” Mateo spoke loudly and clearly, jarring Jacob from his train of thought...
“Nearly everyone I have encountered for more than a few minutes at a time. Possibly ten times now,” Jacob answered, leaving his troubled thoughts behind.
“Did this ever happen before the facility?”
“ Not that I recall. I did sometimes notice that women seem to react to thoughts I had of them,” Jacob smirked coyly at Mateo.
Mateo chuckled, “And what suggested that?”
“Well, if I had an inappropriate thought about them, some would become disgusted or cold with me, as though they had seen what I was thinking. Sometimes, if I was lucky, they seemed to like it and would kind of throw themselves at me. Their attitude would change in an instant. I couldn’t tell why then, but now I wonder,”
Mateo laughed heartily, causing Jacob to soften and laugh as well. Even the ever-serious assistant broke into a snicker.
Once Mateo had collected himself, he continued. “So the reaction consistently happens when this thought pops into your mind while you are interacting with another person?”
“It seems to, yes. Actually, I hadn’t realized this until now, but it has never happened with Amir.” Mateo raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. “Oh? Are you referring to Amir Rahal?”
“Yes. He is my roommate and seems to not react to the memory. I’ve even been able to talk to him a little about it.”
“Interesting,” Mateo commented while taking notes on the tablet.
“We also seem to be able to communicate telepathically.” Mateo froze for a moment before looking up at Jacob intently. “Wait, let''s talk about that for a moment,” Mateo said, dropping his composure, which Jacob had never seen him do before. He had a clear and distinct excitement in his voice when he said “ You can communicate through unspoken dialogue or with images?”
Jacob thought about it for a moment. “Both. Sometimes, I hear a word or several in my mind. Sometimes I see an image he wants me to see. I’m not sure how but I knew from the first time that it was Amir. Once he had done it, I somehow knew how to respond. I can’t really explain it.” Mateo sat, nodding, and typing away.
“How did it happen the first time?”
“I could hear him in my sleep. He was also sleeping. He was shouting the words, ‘Fadil is waiting.’ It woke me up and I could still hear him after I woke.”
“Fascinating. Truly fascinating,” Mateo mumbled. “Jacob, this is quite an advanced technique. This paired with Amir’s apparent resistance to your projections may be just the answer we are looking for!” Jacob was stunned by Mateo’s demeanour. He was elated and speaking as though he and Jacob were solving a puzzle together. It felt warm and inviting to feel included in Mateo’s excitement.
“Jacob, Amir is the key to you accessing the Field. He will be the one to help you enter, and once you are in, we can finally learn to control your ability.” Mateo proclaimed. Jacob smiled and nodded. He felt Mateo’s hopefulness swell in his chest and adopted it as his own.
…..
Amir looked over at Emelie’s scrunched up face, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“What?!” he exclaimed non-verbally. “Okay, it isn’t that funny,” he added, fighting back his urge to laugh. Emelie, unable to find any words in her hysterical state, squeezed her eyes shut and nodded, placing a fist in front of her mouth in a failed attempt to muffle her laughter. She let out a loud yelp that rang out through the quiet air of the library, causing the few people seated in the lounge area to look up momentarily before returning to their reading. That sound was simply too much for Amir, who could no longer contain himself. Through pursed lips, he broke into a burst of near breathless laughter. Again, the faces of the other residents turned sharply towards them. Amir put a hand up towards them and shook his head to indicate he would stop. Emelie, now chuckling silently, wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve.
“So, you’re telling me that instead of asking her on a date directly, you learned enough Russian to ask her grandmother if you could take her out?” Emelie communicated to Amir telepathically, while trying to hold back another fit of giggles. Amir nodded sheepishly. “It’s kind of sweet, actually,” Emelie added, still fighting a smile. “But I have to say, I understand why she dated your brother instead,” Emelie began to lose her composure again before finishing the sentence, causing Amir to let out an audible chuckle. “Shh!” hissed one of the residents from the lounge area. “Sorry,” Amir responded, causing Emelie to laugh loudly. “I have to get out of here,” she said as the now frustrated faces of the others scowled at them.
“Good idea,” Amir responded, still giggling, as he collected the books before him and stood up. Both he and Emelie stored the books back onto a nearby shelf and exited the library in a hurry. The minute they were free of the oppressive environment, they laughed out loud and Amir quickly and as carefully as possible, closing the door behind him.
“You’re going to get us kicked out of there permanently,”’ Amir said, playfully bumping his shoulder into her. “Me?!” Emelie exclaimed, darting her eyes over to him. “You’re the one who insisted on sharing your dating blunder greatest hits in a library,” she tossed back with a lighthearted grimace. They continued down the hall and entered the mess.
“Did you get your work assignment yet?” Emelie asked as she sat down at a table near the doors they had just entered. Amir nodded and pulled a deck of cards from his back pocket before sitting across from her. Over the last few weeks, Amir had taught Emelie nearly every card game he knew. The connection they shared seemed to facilitate the transmission of knowledge between them. This paired with Emelie’s keenness to learn, made learning even the most complex of games a 5 minute process. She had never been one to play cards or any games for that matter. In the bunker, however, expanding one’s repertoire of pastimes was a matter of mental health. After only 2 months, the days were already becoming unbearably long, even with the strict schedules that dictated two-thirds of their day. They both had a sense of eagerness bubbling just below the surface to begin their work details as soon as possible and playing cards was one of the few things that kept that anxiety at bay until then. Since they were part of the last wave of recruits to arrive at the Facility, they were part of the minority that had not yet been assigned to permanent work yet. Sure, they would assist here and there when needed but there was no consistency.
“ Lead physicist for some top-secret project,” Amir responded.
“Did they actually use the term ‘top secret’?” Emelie jeered in good nature.
“Well, I added a little zest to it since ‘lead physicist’ seemed lacking in some way. Thought I’d give it some sex appeal, you know, for the ladies,” Amir said raising his eyebrows ironically. Emelie gave him a waggish grin.
“Zan said they would give me the details when I start on Monday,” Amir added. “What did you get?” he asked as he dealt out the deck into two even piles.
“Hydro agriculture. Sounds fancy, I know but really it’ll just be crop maintenance. I won’t lie though. I am pretty excited to get my hands into the dirt again. Maybe too excited.” Amir felt a dropping sensation within Emelie’s chest. “I haven’t gardened since before... everything,” she added non-verbally. The jarring switch in her emotional state indicated to Amir that an involuntary, post-traumatic episode had befallen his companion. He took the stack of cards before her and placed it into her hand, giving it a tight squeeze to pull her back to the present. In the short time since their first meeting, they had developed techniques to pull one another back from these bouts of dismay. Emelie looked up at him, smiled gratefully and proceeded to fan out her deck before her.
“I must admit, I’m somewhat jealous of your placement. Being surrounded by plants all day long would be the closest thing to a hike in the woods that we will get,” Amir remarked. Emelie recalled Amir’s stories of various hikes he had done all over the world. He reflected on these memories with such fondness that Emelie knew that he indeed must have sincere envy for her new assignment. A pain of guilt and empathy washed over her. Upon feeling this emotional projection, Emelie noticed Amir repelling it almost instantly. She quickly moved on from the state, focusing solely on the lacklustre hand before her.
A vibration against her thigh indicated that a scheduled agenda item was about to begin. Without needing to remove the phone from her pocket, Emelie remembered that she had a sensory field training session that was about to start in 5 minutes.
“Shit,” She said as she placed her hand face down on the table and stood up. “I have to get to sensory training.” Amir nodded, “Okay, raincheck then?” he replied. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
“Uh-huh.” Emelie gave Amir’s shoulder a quick squeeze before hastily exiting the Mess.
…..
Mateo sat perfectly still at the desk of his office, hands relaxed with palms turned upward on his lap. He could have been mistaken for a wax figure by an outside observer if it had not been for the gentle, controlled breaths that expanded his chest outward every few seconds. The stillness of his body contradicted his internal state, which was dominated by a hyper-speed highway of information passing through vigorous analysis. Mateo carefully studied every detail of the scene unfolding in his mind. It played out as most of these memories did; a thick moss-like substance crowded around him filling his mouth, ears, and nose. Gradually, the moss dissipates as Mateo rapidly identifies the connective threads he and the other Longeaveate have in common. He begins formulating new ones as the connection strengthens. The palila he was connecting to was nearly 200 years old but had never accessed the Field before arriving at the Facility. Older palilas with little to no Field training could sometimes be the most difficult to train as they tended to be less open to the process. Years of life experiences, with all of its ups and downs, lefts and rights, leave the mind callused and difficult to access.
This subject, however, had made good progress in a short time.
As the memory unfolded around him, Mateo zoned in on a particular detail: a fluttering sensation in his chest that occurred approximately one and half minutes into the session. The memory froze around him as he decoded the sensation. It was a cocktail of elation, anxiety, self-doubt, and intense curiosity all punctuated by a sharp pain of guilt or possibly shame. There was no doubt in Mateo’s mind that this was brought about by a recollection of an encounter with a love lost. He focused in on the distorted imagery that flashed in his mind at the exact moment of the brief experience. Through the fog of the chaotic melange of the most likely distant memory, Mateo could make out a faint outline of a collarbone line, illuminated by a soft light source. The skin was a tone of chestnut, smooth and flawless, glistening with a thin layer of perspiration. As Mateo’s focus increased, the scene became clearer. He followed the neckline up to the jawline of the lost lover. A shadow of facial hair darkened the skin across the lower half of a young man’s face. Arousal and deep affection bubbled to the top of Mateo’s emotional awareness.
A loud knocking sound suddenly filled the space, startling Mateo and forcing him to drop out of the Memory Pull. A tall brunette was already towering over him when he opened his eyes. Her expression was severe as she stared down at him. She abruptly turned to grab a chair for the corner and sat down facing him.
“Good afternoon, Carlotta,” Mateo said as he turned to face the woman. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’m here on behalf of the board. They would like a briefing on what you have found during your sessions with the new arrivals.” Although her tone and expression seemed cold, Mateo knew Carlotta well, as they had worked together for some time now, and was accustomed to her unintentionally harsh delivery. He taught her English when she arrived at the facility 2 years ago, using a technique of mind projection which allows for one individual to teach another a skill within a matter of days. This paired with traditional methods of language learning, such as intense immersion, resulted in Carlotta, who had come from a small Austrian village where locals only spoke German and Austrian, becoming fluent in English in six weeks.
“I’ve been submitting my summary notes every week,” Mateo replied with a puzzled expression.
“Yes, well, they would like to know specifics about what you have noticed with the palilas.”
“What, pray tell, are the ‘specifics’ they are seeking?” Mateo held back the annoyance in his voice, knowing all too well that Carlotta would take it personally. It had become a reflex for him in the last several months to resist the insistent questioning from the Heads of the Facility board regarding additional details they for some reason, believed Mateo was leaving out of his reports. His intention was to provide them with concrete observations, not speculations on what ambiguous details may possibly indicate about a subject. He believed that sharing these assumptions would potentially lead to a biased perspective before a sufficient amount of data could be collected. The Board seemed to have an air of desperation in the wake of the virus outbreak, which could lead to rash decision making. If Mateo could avoid contributing to this, he may be able to gain some real insight into what was possible with the palilas superior genetic mutation.
“There has been speculation for years about palilas having special talents, aside from the standard traits exhibited by Longeavitates. You yourself have written of such things,” Carlotta replied, referencing Mateo’s memoirs of his time living in a Longeavitate commune. Mateo nodded. What talent are they looking for specifically? Mateo couldn’t help but feel uneasy with the persistence and eagerness of the Board on this matter. He recalled a story one of his colleagues had shared with him when he first arrived at the Facility.
The man had been vague with the details, stating that he didn’t know too much of what had transpired but Mateo sensed him withholding something. At the time, Mateo was more intrigued by the fact that the man was able to block him out, as it seemed very few at the Facility were even familiar with the Sensory Field, let alone capable of wielding it so effectively. In the current moment, however, Mateo reflected on the contents of the story; the Facility was previously run by another, prior to Dr. Adeyemi. The man’s name was Francis-Lloyd Pickering, a highly-skilled Avis that was rumoured to have been a thousand years old. His incredible longevity came at a great cost. It seemed that the burden of so many years of experiences, deaths, losses, triumphs, and failures had become too much for a single man to bear. FL, as he came to be known, had gone completely mad. The colleague did not explain what impact this madness had led to but he did reveal that Adeyemi and other members of the current board initiated a coup to unseat him. FL disappeared one night and no one had seen him since. The board and most of the current staff never mentioned him. It was as though he vanished into thin air. A sense of mistrust towards the Board and, more specifically, towards Adeyemi brewed in Mateo. His mind involuntarily associated his concern to one particular palila who showed signs of possessing a potential, unlike anything he had ever seen before. They mustn’t find out about Jacob, he told himself as he blocked all emotional emission concerning the boy.
“The training sessions have not yet surfaced any distinguishable talents I’m afraid. Palilas typically require several months of Field training before they can successfully enter with another. Nothing but cottonmouth and thickets thus far.” Mateo focused on maintaining a steady heart rate so as not to signal any alarm to Carlotta. She was particularly talented in hyper-vigilance, having been one of Mateo’s keenest pupils. Her eyes darted from one corner of his face to another at lightning speed, much like that of a bird of prey studying its target. Her focus softened after a few moments, indicating she was confident that the consistency of his expressions validated his statement.
Without another word, she rose and turned to exit the room. “Carlotta,” she froze in place, giving Mateo a chance to complete his sentence. “What are they looking for exactly? It may help if I know what I’m looking for.”
Carlotta remained silent for several seconds before replying. “ Just make sure to record and submit any and all peculiarities you observe.” She quickly exited the room, leaving Mateo to stew in the unsettling mystery.
…..
It was nine a.m. when Jacob and the other restoration staff made their way to the south wing of the bunker. If it were any other day, in a world not yet decimated by the virus, he would have dreaded heading off to work so early in the morning. Today, however, his disdain for early rising was overshadowed by his excitement at finally having work placement. He turned his attention back to the woman walking next to him, her large eyes looking up at him attentively. “Luckily, I saw him just before he went under and jumped in after him,” Jacob recalled to his captive audience, biting down on his tongue to suppress a cocky smirk from making an appearance. He hadn’t felt the urge to even attempt making a move on anyone in so long.
Mariana was stunningly beautiful. Her long brown wavy hair flowed down to the small of her back, draping over her shoulders. Jacob admired the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the caramel-coloured skin beneath them smooth and flawless, as he looked down at her. When she parted her full lips ever so slightly, he lost his train of thought as his pent up hormones took over. Mariana must have noticed the shift in him and coyly bit her lip, sending Jacob into a spiral. He may have been an expert at charming women, but Mariana was masterfully turning the power dynamic in her favour.
“So what happened next?” Mariana asked, catching Jacob off guard. “Wha -?” He felt his mouth hanging open and promptly shut it, wondering how long he had had the awestruck look on his face. “To your friend?” Mariana said with a chuckle. ”The one who nearly drowned?”
“Oh, yes,” Jacob collected himself, “So I jumped in after him. The current was so strong, I thought I was going to be pulled under myself. I remember swimming as hard as I could, harder than I ever had before. Finally, I was able to grab hold of him and pull him back to shore. It took about 30 minutes to get him back since the current was so strong.” Jacob was back in the driver’s seat, satisfied with the look of admiration that came over her face. “That was very brave of you Jacob, “ she said sincerely. Although she was nearly 50 years his senior, Jacob noticed that unlike the other Longeavitates who showed their age in their personalities, way of speaking, and reactions, Mariana still seemed to have the light-hearted sense of wonder he was familiar with among people his own age. This made her significantly more attractive to him.
Their flirtation was abruptly interrupted by the sudden stop in the forward pace of the group, followed by Rikuto Higa’s booming voice echoing throughout the deserted hallway they were heading to. He had stopped before the entryway of the South wing and turned to address his staff. Rikuto’s demeanour contrasted sharply with his small stature. He was direct and commanding in his approach as though he had once held a military leadership position. His speech was slow-paced and deliberate, which Jacob figured was a product of English not being his first language. Jacob, too, maintained a similar speech cadence when speaking English.
“Welcome to the South wing of Rydal James. Our assignment here will be to clean and restore the wing so that it may be converted to agriculture grow rooms as well as food and supply storage. It is important that we are thorough in our cleaning and sanitization efforts.” Rikuto’s thick, black brows bounced and shuffled with each word he said causing Mariana to giggle quietly. Jacob looked over at her with a smirk as she tilted her head towards him, allowing him to catch the scent of her peach perfumed shampoo. This conjured a renewed arousal within him that, thanks to his training with Mateo, he realized he had projected loudly throughout the Field. It must have been pronounced indeed as he noticed several people in the crowd turn to look at him with frowned faces. Embarrassment rose from the pit of his stomach, flooding up his chest and neck. The tsunami of mortification, however, stopped dead in its tracks as Jacob noted a matched sense of desire emitting from Mariana. She looked up at him with a single slow bat of her long lashes, their faces a mir inches from each other.
“Now,” Rikuto exclaimed stupefying the two of them and redirecting their attention back to the front of the crowd. “ Each of you will be assigned to a room. You are to sweep the room clean of all debris and wash the walls, door, and floor twice, followed by a sanitation spray down with this solution,” he instructed while elevating a clear spray bottle containing a light pink liquid. “You will notice that each bottle has a number written on it. This number will indicate to you which room you will be assigned to. Please form two lines, one before myself and one in front of Nigel,” he pointed to the man standing next to him, which Jacob thought may have been the tallest man he had ever seen. “Once you have received your bottle, please proceed to the room correlating to your number. You will find the rest of your cleaning supplies in the room itself.” Jacob took a place in the now formed line before Nigel. He jested silently to Mariana to go before him, taking the opportunity to shoot her a suggestive smile. She reciprocated his expression and took her place before him. Jacob’s mind wandered unintentionally into a fantasy where Mariana’s curvaceous figure was suddenly shed of the grey coverall, identical to the ones he and the rest of the team wore.
In this visualization, their teams also dissolved into nothingness, leaving only the two of them, standing at the intersection of the main hall and the south wing, he placed his hands on her now bare shoulders. she turned, looked back at him, and with a playful raise of her eyebrows she whispered, “Everyone can see this.” Confused, Jacob shook lose of the dream state to find that the entire team, including Rikuto and Nigel, was now staring at him in silence. He panned the room feeling his cheeks flush with crimson heat.
“Mister Comtois,” Rikuto’s words rang out with the tone of an angry school principal. He raised his left hand, palm facing inward, and with a flick of his fingers, beckoned Jacob to join him in the front. Jacob obliged, proceeding to meet him with a hurried pace. His mind focused intently on the desire for the crowd to look away. His wish was granted as the others’ attention soon returned to casual conversations with one another, as if nothing had happened. By the expression on Rikuto’s face he, unlike the others, had not moved on.
“You seem quite distracted young man.”
“Sorry. I -” Jacob was cut short Rikuto’s persistence to complete his lecture. “ Let’s see if we can’t redirect your focus before we are all subjected to another one of your sexual conquest fantasies.” Jacob was taken aback by the bluntness of the statement. The heat of embarrassment washed over his chest and cheeks once more. “ Now, now, no need for that,” Rikuto said, indicating to Jacob that he had once again projected his emotional state. “ We were all teenagers once. Fortunately for the rest of us, we were not such talented projectors as yourself.” Rikuto’s expression softened somewhat as he leaned in towards Jacob and continued in a hushed voice, “With training and practice, this skill of yours will prove to be a most powerful tool indeed.’’ With a single firm nod of his head, Rikuto’s speech had come to an end.
“Room 32, on the right-hand side,” Rikuto said, handing the bottle to Jacob. “Off you go, now!”
Jacob entered room 32 through a heavy steel door, much like that of all the rooms he had passed in the hall. The air was thick with dampness and smelled of rot. It was such a powerful smell that Jacob was hit by a sudden wave of nausea, causing a single gag. Once he had pushed past the urge to vomit, Jacob entered the low lit room with immense reluctance. Something was deeply unsettling about this space, unrelated to the obvious repulsiveness of its odour and medieval dungeon-like aesthetic. He studied the surroundings looking for the possible source of uneasiness it produced. There wasn’t much to look at. A rusted bucket sat in the corner of the room and bits of indistinguishable debris littered the ceramic tiled floor. A single bare lightbulb illuminated the concrete walls of the claustrophobic space. The sense of discomfort loomed within his chest, enticing him to begin his task quickly so as to be rid of it as soon as possible.
Jacob grabbed the broom leaning against the wall next to the doorway. He proceeded to the far end of the room as the weighted door slammed shut behind him, startling him profoundly, in his already tense state. He shook off the fear imposed by the experience as best as he could and began sweeping up the mess surrounding him. With each passing minute, the sense of dread increased steadily, for reasons Jacob could not identify. He pictured what it would be like to be locked in such a place, imprisoned and left to die alone. The feeling grew, fleshing out a layered emotional landscape too specific to simply be a manifestation of his directionless fear. These were feelings experienced by a real person. Someone who knew this place, who had lived and- died in this place...
A loose tile rattled under the broom bristles, breaking Jacob free of the dystopian state that had momentarily taken over his mind. He swept over it once more. The sound it produced to call to him, leading him to investigate further. He crouched down and shifted the tile from side to side. He slid the tile all the way to one side and noticed a darkened space below the tile. Propping one corner up with the tip of his finger, he managed to flip the tile over, revealing a shallow hole with a rag stuffed into it. Thinking there may be something wrapped in the rag, Jacob pulled it out carefully and unraveled it in his palm. The rag did not contain any objects, however, it did seem to hold secrets: something had been inscribed onto it. Jacob stood up and held the rag closer to the light so that he could read it. A wave of sickness overcame him as he consumed the words etched in brown ink across the tattered piece of cloth. He felt the panic manifesting within him; a cold sweat built along his hairline.
Just as a lightheadedness began to set in, Jacob was once again startled back to the present with the loud screeching of the door as it slowly swung open. He looked over to see Nigel hold the door open with one massive hand while extending the other down to the base of the door, propping it open with a wooden wedge.
“You want to keep this door open,” Nigel said as he stood up. Jacob quickly shoved the rag into his pocket before Nigel’s gaze reached him. “Yes, thank you.”
Nigel looked at him with concern, “Are you okay? You look sickly.”
“I’m fine. You startled me is all,” Jacob could tell that he had not convinced the other. Regardless, Nigel moved on down the hall, presumably to scare another poor soul half to death.
Jacob placed a hand over the outside of the pocket now containing the mysterious chronicle. He decided that it would be best to keep quiet about it until he could show it to Amir. He may have an idea of what to make of it, Jacob hoped.