Just Now ·
That yellowed haze. Like, actual nicotine stain but on a hard drive casing. It’s cracked right down the seam. I can see the ribbon cable dangling. Don’t look at it. Really. My shoulder’s on fire from this angle, but it’s fine. We can hot-wire it. Just need the alligator clips. Frank, stop staring at the discoloration. It’s just oxide. It’s just chemistry. Let me try the jumper.
Just chemistry. Right. Look at that burn mark. It’s not oxide. It’s carbonized plastic. It’s exactly what it looks like. Your shoulder is fine? You’re grimacing every time you blink. Move the cable. Carefully. If you snap the trace, we’re done. I’m getting the clips. Don’t touch anything else. The smell… it’s still in the air. That’s the smell of failure. We need the alligator clips. Now.
It smells like burning hair. Or meat. Stop pacing. You’re vibrating. My shoulder isn’t fine, it’s screaming, but if I stop moving, I’ll vomit. The ribbon’s frayed. Look at it. It’s not just carbonized; it’s melted into the housing. We can’t just clip it. The trace is gone. Frank, sit down. You’re making me dizzy. Just… hand me the tape. Not the clips. We don’t have enough reach. Stop looking at me like I’m broken. I’m just trying to keep my arm attached.
I’m not pacing. I’m standing. There’s a difference. You’re bleeding on the floor. Look at your sleeve. It’s dark. Darker than the smoke. You say you’re fine, but you’re slumping against the desk. Sit down, Tess. Please. If you pass out, I can’t lift you. The tape won’t fix a severed nerve. Just… lean back. Let me hold your hand. Not the arm. Just the hand. I’m shaking too. I can’t stop shaking. Look at my hands. They’re vibrating. We need to stop.
My hand is cold. Stop looking at it. It’s not severed. It’s… it’s just the heat radiating. The plastic is still warm. Frank, look at the drive. The LED is dead. If we sit, the panic hits. I can feel it in my teeth. Stop shaking. You’re making the table rattle. My sleeve? It’s damp. Sweat. Definitely sweat. You’re hallucinating from the fumes. Breathe. In through the nose. Don’t look at the black stuff. Look at me. Why are you crying? It’s just a component. A melted component. Give me the tape anyway. I need to insulate it. Just for a second.
It’s not heat. It’s blood. I saw it. You’re sweating because you’re in shock. Look at me. I’m not hallucinating. The fumes are making you talk crazy. We need to get you to the bathroom. Now. The tape is useless. You can’t tape a severed artery. Or whatever that is. Stop trying to fix it. The drive is dead. It’s gone. Just let me help you stand up. Your hand is freezing. That’s not normal. That’s bad. Give me your other hand. Let’s go. Please. Just let’s go.
The drive is fine. It’s just… overheating. I can fix it. I have the tweezers. Frank, stop pulling. You’re yanking my arm. It’s just a bruise. A big one. From leaning. The blood is from the carpet. Look, the fibers are stained. It’s red dye. Not blood. Everyone knows that. I’m not going to the bathroom. I need to see if the PCB is still intact. If I stand up, the room spins. Don’t help me stand. Help me hold this. Just hold the connector. Please. If you let go, it drops. And then it’s really over.
It’s not dye. It’s arterial spray. You’re bleeding out, Tess. Stop lying. The PC board is slag. It’s a puddle of silicon. You can’t fix a puddle. Your fingers are numb. That’s shock. Give me the tweezers. Drop them. Now. I’m not letting you hold that dead weight. It’s over. The data is gone. The drive is gone. You’re here. Just you. I’m holding your hand because you’re freezing. And terrified. And I’m terrified too. So stop trying to salvage the junk. Look at me. Not the mess. Me. I’m not letting go.
The tweezers are sharp. I need them. You’re squeezing too hard. My fingers are going numb because the blood is pooling. It’s a clot. It’s fine. Just hold the sleeve down. Don’t look at the puddle. It’s just oil. Silicone grease. Frank, stop yelling. You’re making it louder. The smell is worse now. It’s sweet. Like rotting fruit. I’m not freezing. I’m hot. Can’t you feel it? The heat is rising. Look at the ceiling. The paint is bubbling. We need to move the desk. Now. Before the floor gives way. Give me the tweezers. Please. Just for a second.
It’s not oil. It’s your blood. And it’s not pooling. It’s pumping. You’re clotting? No, you’re bleeding. I’m not yelling. I’m screaming because you’re dying. Stop looking at the ceiling. There’s no fire. The paint is peeling from the heat of your own body. You’re burning up. Fever. Shock. Give me the tweezers. Drop them. If you drop them, you can’t hold the pressure. I’m holding the sleeve. Tighter. Don’t move. The desk isn’t moving. We are staying right here. You’re hot because you’re burning alive inside. Stop fighting me. Just breathe.
It’s not blood. It’s coolant. The loop burst. I told you the pump was weak. Frank, you’re crushing my wrist. I can’t feel my fingers. That’s the numbness. Not shock. Just pressure. Stop looking at the floor. Look at the gauge. It’s empty. That’s why it’s hot. We just need to refill it. Do you have the spare line? The one in the drawer? The blue one. Stop screaming. You’re deafening me. My head is pounding. Like a hammer. Just… just pass me the line. I can fix the valve. I just need to twist it. Right? Just twist it.
Coolant? It smells like iron. You’re hallucinating. There’s no loop. There’s no pump. Just this broken plastic and the smell of burning skin. You’re crushing your own wrist against the desk. Let go. You’re not fixing a valve. You’re bleeding out. The gauge is dead. The drawer is empty. I don’t have a blue line. I have my hands, and they are shaking so bad I can’t hold yours steady. Stop twisting. You’re tearing the muscle. Look at the ceiling. The paint isn’t bubbling. It’s smoke. Actual smoke. Get up. We need to get out. Now. Before the room collapses.
Smoke. Right. It’s smoke. Not paint. My bad. The smoke goggles are off. I can’t see. Frank, stop shaking. You’re vibrating the floor. If I stand, my legs go. I know they go. But if I stay, the heat gets me. The plastic is melting again. I can hear it dripping. Like wax. Don’t look at the desk. Look at the door. Is it open? It was open. The smell… it’s copper. Heavy copper. Like a penny on the tongue. My teeth hurt. Everything hurts. But mostly my arm. Don’t touch the arm. Just… guide me. Step. One step. If I fall, you go with me. Ready?
The door’s jammed. I tried. The frame warped. We’re trapped. Look at the wall. The drywall is peeling. It’s not smoke goggles. It’s your eyes. They’re bloody. You’re bleeding from the ears. Frank, stop. You’re choking. I can’t breathe. The air is thick. Like syrup. We can’t go anywhere. The floor is soft. Spongy. Under our feet. It’s melting. Like wax. You said we need to move. But the door is locked. And the window is fused shut. Just… sit down. Please. If you keep shaking, you’ll wake it up. The thing in the corner. It’s watching. Frank. Look at me. I’m fading. The light is dimming. Is that the fire? Or just my vision?
It’s not a thing. It’s a shadow. Stop looking at the corner. My vision is tunneling. That’s normal. You’re seeing things too. The drywall isn’t peeling; it’s shedding. Like snake skin. Frank, stop shaking. You’re vibrating the air. If we sit, we sink. The floor is holding. Mostly. I can’t feel my legs. Or my arm. Or my teeth. Just hold my hand. Don’t look at the window. Don’t look at the door. Look at the crack in the ceiling. It’s spreading. Fast. If it hits the light, we’re done. Stay with me. Please. I’m scared. Really scared. Why aren’t you scared? Say something. Yell. Break the silence. Please.
I am scared. I’m terrified. My hands are numb. I can’t feel your fingers. Just bone. Cold bone. The crack is wide. It’s raining dust. White dust. Like ash. Stop saying it’s holding. The floor is groaning. Listen to it. It’s breaking. I can’t yell. My throat is closed. The copper taste is choking me. You’re fading. Tess, you’re fading. I’m holding your hand but I can’t feel it. Is it still there? Or did it slip away? The ceiling is falling. Please. Just stay. Don’t let go.
My hand is there. Feel it. It’s just… gone. Numb. Frank, stop touching the floor. It’s not dust. It’s insulation. Fiberglass. It burns. Get it off your skin. The crack is wide. I can see the sky. No, that’s wrong. That’s wire. Sparks. Don’t look up. Look at me. I’m still here. I’m just… tired. The pain is gone. That’s the good part. The quiet part. Frank, don’t let go. If you let go, I float away. Stay anchored. The groaning is loud. It’s getting louder. We need to cover our noses. The air is too thick. Breathe shallow. Small sips. I can’t breathe. Help me.
I’m not letting go. I’m holding on so hard my knuckles are white. The air is poison. Thick. Gray. You’re right, it’s wire. Sparks. Blue, then white. Then nothing. Just the hum. The terrible, high-pitched hum. Keep breathing. Small sips. I’m doing it too. I can’t feel my face. Is that normal? The pain is gone for you? Good. I wish mine was gone. I’m scared. I’m so scared. The floor is gone under my feet. I’m standing on nothing. Keep your eyes on mine. Don’t look at the sparks. Don’t look at the sky-wire. Just look at me. I’m here. I’m here.
My eyes are heavy. Can’t keep them open. The hum… it’s inside my skull now. Clicking. Like a timer. Frank, your face is gray. You look like the plastic. That yellowed, cracked plastic. Don’t look at the sparks. They’re pretty. Dancing. We’re sinking. The floor isn’t groaning. It’s sighing. Finally. The pain is gone. I’m light. So light. You’re holding on tight. Too tight. Let go. You’ll break. Just… let go. It’s easier if you let go. Why are you crying? There’s no water. Just dust. Breathe the dust. It’s warm.
It’s not water. It’s sweat. I’m drowning in it. The plastic? No. That’s just your face. Pale. Ashen. Don’t look at the sparks. They’re not dancing. They’re eating the room. Sighing? That’s the house settling. Or collapsing. I don’t know. I can’t tell anymore. My grip is slipping. I’m losing you. Tess, look at me. Don’t close your eyes. The dust is choking me. It tastes like metal. Like old coins. Let go? I can’t. If I let go, you’re gone. And I’m left with the silence. The terrible, humming silence. Don’t float away. Stay heavy. Stay here. Please.
The hum is a drill. Right behind my eyes. I can’t close them. If I do, the sparks get in. Frank, your grip is weak. You’re slipping. I feel it. Don’t let go. If you let go, I’m just… noise. Static. The taste is copper. So much copper. I’m tired. Heavy. So heavy. The floor is gone. We’re falling. But you’re here. Holding me. Don’t look at the ceiling. Look at my mouth. I’m still speaking. Right? My voice is a whisper. Barely there. Keep your eyes open. Keep holding on. The silence is coming. Don’t let it in. Just… hold.
I’m holding. I’m holding so hard my nails are biting into your wrist. But the skin is gone. Smooth. Like the casing. The spark’s in my eyes now. Bright. White. Too bright. You’re whispering? I can’t hear. The hum is louder. It’s drilling into my teeth. You’re falling? I’m falling with you. The floor isn’t gone. It’s just… transparent. We’re seeing through it. Seeing the basement? No. Seeing nothing. Just void. Don’t close your eyes, Tess. If you close them, the static wins. Keep talking. Just a sound. Any sound. The copper taste is choking me. I can’t breathe. Just hold.
My nails are gone. Can’t feel them. Just pressure. The void is beautiful. Frank, listen. The hum is changing pitch. Higher. It’s singing. Can you hear it? It sounds like… like my mother. No. That’s wrong. My mother’s dead. It sounds like the drive spinning up. Whirring. Smooth. Perfect. Don’t look at the sparks. Look at the static. It’s gray. Soft. I’m slipping. Your hand is slipping. Let go. Please. Let go. The pain is too much. I can’t hold on. I’m sorry. I tried. I really tried. But the floor is gone. We’re just… floating.
I’m not letting go. I can’t. My hands are locked. I can’t feel your skin anymore. Just the shape of you. The void isn’t beautiful. It’s cold. It’s the dark. The hum is screaming now. Not singing. Screaming. Like a fan spinning at ten thousand RPMs. Redlining. You’re gone. I can feel you slipping. Your grip is gone. It’s just my fingers curling around air. Tess. Tess, look at me. Don’t look at the static. It’s just electricity. It’s just broken things. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t hold you. I’m holding on to nothing. The floor is gone. We are falling. Keep falling.