Prologue

The small monitor turns on, illuminating the dark room with its bright blue light. The screen is damaged and occasionally the words and images get scrambled together. It gives off the low hum of electricity and flickers intermittently.

A finger presses the button on the desk labeled record and a REC sign above lights up red. The room walls are colored in a dirty sky blue and it has only one door. It only held a white table with a chair, a computer and recording equipment. A man with shaggy facial hair scratches the side of his head and sighs.

The sound of feedback comes from the headphones on the desk. A man takes a seat in the worn-out chair and tilts the microphone close to his lips. The man sits in silence staring at the flickering screen.

He clears his thirsty throat and coughs. Sighing once more he says,

[???: I'm sure you all have been waiting, but... I admit it... I... Ah hell why do I even do this.]

He stood up but soon changes his mind and plops back into the chair. A loud metal bang reverberates through the room as slams the table with his fist,

[???: I did want to end my life! Just like the others did! There I fucking said it! I'm no hero. Not even the slightest! I'm weak! But the voice... That sweet melodic voice keeps whispering into my head. Telling me things. Constantly leading me around this damned metal bucket. Always telling me that They need me... The voice doesn't stop there. It shows me visions, faint signs of what's going on below. Those images kept me going, I thought I could be useful this way. Someone needed me. Even while I drift out here endlessly. I can't see them, but they can't see me either. Still... We can connect somehow.]

He touches his temples, feeling a slight migraine, he tries to rub the pain away.

[???: The voice though. I'm not sure if it has some kind of gender or sex or some weird alien hocuspocus. that makes it sound like that. What I am sure of is that this is some kind of game for them or, some kind of--]

The sound of a low alarm rings above his head. and an orange sign flashes with the words Low Power.

The man presses the save button on the screen and turns the monitor power off.

[???: I could have sworn I fixed those damn solar chargers... I guess I've got another pain in the ass to deal with.]

The man puts on a dirty white coat and grabs the cold handle of the door. He peers back at the monitor, looking at his reflection, his brown hair had traces of gray strands.

[???: I'm getting too old for this... When will it end?]

[Author: Enjoy the journey.]