— Not Accounted For
The corridor didn’t feel abandoned. That was the wrong part. Lights held their tone without flicker, a soft white that pretended permanence. The air systems breathed on schedule. Somewhere deeper in the facility, footsteps passed—measured, confident, belonging to people who knew exactly where they were allowed to stand. Calyx slowed anyway. He hadn’t heard anything change. No alarm, no signal, no shift sharp enough to justify the tension pulling at his spine. And yet the space around him felt subtly misaligned, like a room built half a degree off-center. Not enough to collapse. Just enough to make staying uncomfortable. He rested his palm against the wall. Cold. Clean. Correct. That made it worse. Everyone else moved through this place as if the structure welcomed them, as if the r
- Writer
