William stepped into the corridor, a narrow passage illuminated by a faint, ominous strip of red light glowing from the base of the walls. Even though the corridor had enough space for two thin people to squeeze by each other, the whole design gave the impression of a confined space and forced him to walk with his shoulders slightly hunched.
He glanced back at his door. The identifier WIL-8814 had no character, no playfulness, no joy. It was stenciled in a sterile, modern font, the kind corporations use to issue, with a neutral voice, rejection letters or criminal convictions.
WIL-8814…
He had taken only three steps, when the wall to his left flickered to life. A holographic advertisement, silent but for a subtle, subliminal hum, began to glide alongside him, matching his pace. It showed a man, weary but resolute, signing a digital contract. The text scrolled beside him:
Overwhelmed by debt? Burdened by existence?
The Patriot Prisoner Program? offers a structured path to financial freedom.
Serve your society.
Erase your obligations.
A purposeful life awaits!
Inquire within.
The man in the ad looked directly at William, offering a faint, hopeful smile. His arm swung in a dynamic fist pump of encouragement: You’ve got this. You can do it.
William quickened his steps, his shoes whispering against the cold floor, but the ad kept perfect pace, a silent, predatory companion in the crimson gloom. This corridor is endless…
Another man with patriotic clothing appeared, then pointing at him: We want you! Join us and get a 10% bonus in your first year! The ad for the Patriot Prisoner Program kept its relentless chase. To escape it, William did something new; something unthinkable until that moment. He looked to his right, reading the identifiers on the identical, featureless doors as he passed.
ERL-0037...
GEO-2940...
DAN-0490...
MAR-2225
The names and numbers blurred into a meaningless procession of human designations. They all ended up in a list in his mind, like everything else he had ever seen before. Then, his eyes locked onto one.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
JEN-3933.
He stopped as if he'd hit a wall and almost fell to the floor. His breath caught in his throat.
Jenny.
He stared at the door, wondering if the girl from the pleading call was on the other side, right now. Was she crying? Was she safe? Had his overturn truly helped her, or had it just flagged her and destroyed her life?
But then something else came to his mind, This can’t be a coincidence. The system doesn't deal in coincidences.
He stood there, frozen in the red-lit corridor, for what felt like an eternity, the ad on his left continuing its silent, morbid sales pitch. Is it a test? Maybe a reminder… A threat?
The more he thought about it, the faster his breathing became. He lifted his hand to knock. He was shaking.
A sharp, piercing alarm shattered the silence, echoing off the narrow walls, making him pull back his hand and step back. A red light above the JEN-3933 door began to blink.
William flinched, his heart hammering against his ribs. He turned and saw a door hiss open a few paces down the hall. A sleek, multi-limbed utility droid emerged, its single optical sensor immediately swiveling and locking onto him. It moved with unnerving grace, closing the distance between them in seconds. Its metal limbs clicked softly against the floor, keeping any sounds to the minimum.
It stopped directly in front of him, a massive, metal beast blocking his path. Its sensor scanned him from head to toe.
"Resident WIL-8814," it stated in a flat, synthesized voice. "Loitering in a residential corridor is a violation of Community Harmony Regulation 7.2. Please state your business."
William was stunned. A cold dread washed over him. "My apologies. I… I'm leaving now," he stammered, his voice tight. He squeezed past the droid, feeling the cold brush of its chassis against his face, and continued walking as fast as he could without breaking into a run. I can't afford another warning from my landlord. The last one had cost him a week's worth of wellness points, not to mention the humiliating and embarrassing call from building management. They are ruthless about their rules… He had two warnings left. The fourth meant eviction, and eviction led to becoming exactly what the ad on the wall was selling.
The droid emitted a soft whir of processing. "Acknowledged. I will escort you to ensure your safety," it stated, its tone devoid of any malice or care. It fell into step precisely one and a half meters behind him, its silent, gliding movement a stark contrast to the frantic beating of his heart. “Please refrain from making any unnecessary noise in the process.”
William nodded without turning. He could feel its optical sensor burning a hole between his shoulder blades. He forced his breathing to slow, his face to become a mask of neutral calm, even as his pulse thundered in his ears. I’m just going for some orange juice. Don’t mind me, he thought. He closed his eyes while walking, Think of all the orange juice you will buy.
They reached the elevator but William walked pass it. The droid stopped just before the elevator’s doors and made a beeping sound that made him open his eyes. He turned and saw what he had done. He rushed back and said, “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t realize...” The droid didn’t say anything, but the soft sound of its little, blinking lights showed it was calculating.
The doors slid open with a hushed sigh. William stepped in, the droid following and positioning itself in the opposite corner, its sensor still fixed on him. The small space felt like a prison cell. He pressed the button for the lobby, the simple action feeling like a monumental effort under the droid's unblinking gaze.
The doors closed, sealing them in. The only sounds were the faint hum of the elevator's descent, the high-pitched drumming of blood in William's ears, and the ongoing, soft click-whir of the droid’s processing lights, showing it had not yet concluded its evaluation of his misstep.
Thursday.
Chapter 5 is now available for early access on
