Chapter Text
The house sank into the ground. Literally. A slight tremor quickly escalated into a real earthquake, cracks ran along the walls. Dust and plaster poured from the ceiling, filling the air with a thick gray fog. The siren outside the window had been howling for about ten minutes, making it even more difficult to concentrate. Its shrill wail mingled with the panicked cries of people on the street, creating a terrifying cacophony.
On TV, long ago — along with many other depressing news — they warned that the threat of an earthquake in this area was particularly high. But who could have thought that it would happen today? Almost all residents of the area remained in their homes — there was nowhere to go.
The emergency kit was already prepared, and the girl grabbed it without thinking; she didn't have time to grab anything else. As she fumbled for the door handle in the darkness, lit only by the flashing emergency lights, her hands were shaking. She ran out the door and into the arms of her neighbors. Behind her, the entire half of the building collapsed, taking the door with it.
Everything was fine. The girl looked up at the one who was supporting her by the shoulders with such care. But instead of a face, she saw only emptiness, devoid of any features that could be called human. "Thank..you.." she began, but the words got stuck in her throat. The stranger did not move. His features remained just as featureless, and a strange haze began to swirl around him in the air. The ground began to tremble underfoot, and the stranger suddenly disappeared, leaving the girl standing alone in a collapsing world with no one around her. She noticed that there were only ruins of buildings and an ear-splitting noise emanating from the depths of the ground.
***
The girl woke up in cold sweat. This nightmare has been haunting her ever since the first day she stepped on the complex ground. The memory keeps coming back to her more and more disturbingly with each night. As she remembered it, it didn't match the reality that she had fixed in her mind almost two weeks ago. Back then, everything seemed simple and clear: a new job, prospects, stability. But now... Now she was beginning to doubt whether she should have accepted this position.
The clock read 4 am. It was too early for a work shift, but too late to go back to sleep. She knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep anymore — the nightmares always left her so exhausted that any movement was difficult. After managing to get out of bed, the girl approached the small mirror in the corner of the room. Her reflection met her with a tired look. Dull gray eyes were half-closed, and dark circles promised an extremely sleep-deprived appearance for the rest of the day that had not even started. Mechanically, her fingers straightened her disheveled hair, but even this simple habit now seemed like hard work.
Something clinked behind the door. In a place like this, such sounds were not uncommon. Many people here suffer from nightmares, and some can't fall asleep while studying documentation and research results. However, the sound repeated, and then something rushed past the door with a frightening stomping noise. For a second, the girl froze. Then, hurriedly pulling on a shirt and work pants, she went out the door, almost forgetting to grab her lab coat with her nameplate. Of course, it was unlikely that there were any intruders — the security in the complex was impressive — and even less likely something otherworldly. Everyone knew that apart from the angel chained to the machine, there was no one else here. But Jane was not everyone, so she decided to check anyway.
The corridor was filled with silence. There were no colleagues in sight, not even a hint of their presence outside the rooms. It seemed that nobody had heard the sound except for her. Yawning, the girl started walking down the corridor, listening to every rustle. The cold air from the ventilation grilles made her skin feel unpleasant, and she got the feeling that someone was watching her. In the dim light of the lamps, the shadows seemed too thick, almost tangible. Despite this, everything seemed normal. Convinced that her imagination had played a trick on her, Jane decided to take a short walk and headed towards the machine hall. A quick night check couldn't hurt.
Each step echoed off the walls, increasing her anxiety. The metal door leading to the holiest part of the complex was slightly ajar, although Jane was sure it had been closed for the night. As she looked inside, she froze. The hall was in semi-darkness, but even in the dim light, it was clear that something was wrong. The control panels were flashing with multicolored lights, sensors were displaying strange values, and the massive mechanisms, which usually worked with a smooth hum, were making unusual sounds. As a junior assistant, she was allowed to look at things but not touch them. In such an unusual situation, she had no idea what to do with the control panels. She reached for the pager on her belt, but it wasn't there. Of course, it had stayed on the table with her phone and notebook.
Trying not to panic, she looked around the room again. Her eyes stopped at the armored glass capsule. In the red light of the emergency lamps, the exhausted angel looked even more unearthly and frightening. His unseeing eyes seemed to be looking directly at her.
The hum stopped. The lamps went out, but Jane could swear — in the pitch darkness, the angel was smiling.
Suddenly, she opened her eyes and sat up in bed, breathing heavily. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was about to jump out of her chest. "Just a dream," she whispered, getting up from the bed. Outside the window, dawn was already breaking, but the complex was still in semi-darkness.
Only when she entered the familiar hall with its neat rows of instruments did her anxiety start to fade a little. Everything seemed normal: the even hum of the mechanisms, the blinking indicators, the familiar bustle of the junior staff. But something was still off.
Shaking off this thought, the girl shook her head. "Focus on work," she told herself. She put on gloves and checked the readings of the instruments, making sure to record them in the notebook. Today was a regular shift, without any emergencies. Just another day in the series of many others.