My eyes burned through the screen. It was around five pm. I rubbed my eyes to wake myself up, to ease the slight burn, and tried to focus. The dry scratch under my eyelids didn't go away. Doing that did nothing to reduce the tiredness, or more like the exhaustion. Yeah, I liked that word. It sounded deeper, because I had been doing this for years, and that word felt appropriate.
The room I was in was dark, and it had been like this even during the daytime. I could not remember the last time this room sparked with any light. They could have given me something a bit cozy. Actually, right about now that would be nice.
Looking around, I spotted the emblem placed neatly on the wall to the left of my desk. I never got used to it. Every time I entered my office, it was like the rest did not matter. Not our lives, not the room, not even themselves.
It was a large emblem on the wall. I stared at the details. Inside the inner circle there was just a skull. A simple skull, but it represented them well. Around it was a face shaped like a devil, a simple design with a circle and a diagonal line running through it. At the bottom there was a face of god, or at least something meant to represent god, with the same circle and line crossing it.
They could have just kept the skull if I was being honest.
I turned to the screen, only to see the same emblem there in the top left corner. It was funny. You could not escape this emblem. It was impossible.
I rolled up my black sleeve. It was rough. When I rolled it, it felt like my skin was scraping through the inside of the fabric. The coarse material caught on my arm hair. Then again, it was about protection, considering they only cared about our safety, and that safety was nothing more than airbags in vehicles.
Moving my mouse, I clicked on a folder labeled "Mimicker." The plastic button clicked under my finger. I opened it and found various documents, Dream files, that was what they called them. I started to feel this buildup of pressure, the kind I usually got after working for hours. My skin grew hot, so I leaned back a bit, which kind of relieved it. The chair creaked under my weight. With my thumb, I pressed against my index finger and pushed hard until I heard a pop. It usually helped me feel a little more refreshed, so I could work more, so I could sleep less, so I could never feel truly refreshed.
Either way, I clicked on one of the documents titled "End Mimicker." The screen flickered for a second. I could not tell you how hard I had to work to retrieve these documents from the other side. Not a specific place in this world we all lived in, if you were wondering.
When I opened the document, I ran into an error. "RESTRICTED DOCUMENT." The red text glowed against the black background. I sighed and leaned back in my chair. The leather stuck to my neck. How was I supposed to do my job if they kept locking files. Then again, it was not entirely my fault. I had heard the rumors going around about a specific Mimicker that could not be killed in the Dead Dream. That was what the other side was called.
I closed it and opened it again. Same error. Not surprising.
So instead of wasting more time on that file, I scrolled through the folder. The wheel spun under my middle finger. I looked at what this folder might be holding before I stored everything securely in the D.E.A.D. folder. That was my job. Reading documents. Making sure everything was correct. Storing them where they belonged. And if you asked me whether I got tired of this repetition, yes and no. Yes from the start. No because I got used to it.
I stumbled onto an image and double clicked it for a better view. The screen brightened. It was hard to make out at first. It looked like a void, but I could pick up a few details. There were soldiers there, Adapters was what they were called, standing in front of what seemed to be some kind of fleshy ball.
The longer I stared at it, the more my brain struggled to process what I was seeing. Was it really flesh, or did it just look that way. Either way, the place in the image was not any well known area on the other side. It was probably far out, nowhere I had ever visited in the Dead Dream. There were no buildings, no structures, nothing. The ground was black, and the sky above had faint clouds, also pitch black. The flashlights from the Adapters barely gave any visibility. Just enough to light up that thing in front of them. I could see veins running through it, glowing bright red.
I stored the image in the D.E.A.D. folder. The drag sound played softly. As for the restricted file, I tried to open it again. Another attempt could always guarantee something. When I did, more text appeared under the same annoying "RESTRICTED DOCUMENT" warning.
Below it, the message read:
"Any attempt to open or investigate this document will result in immediate death. Document controllers are strictly forbidden from accessing or reviewing its contents. This file must be stored in the D.E.A.D. folder without trying to read the document."
At the bottom of the message, it showed the danger level of this Mimicker, which was "End," the last level of danger, very rare. I guessed it was so dangerous they named it after the level itself, officially titled "The End Mimicker," just like the file. The only difference was they did not include "The." I had to rename it and add "The." They were pretty strict about all of this.
I did not bother trying to investigate the restricted document. I just dragged it into the D.E.A.D. folder. The cursor moved heavy across the screen. I thought they did not want employees getting killed, since older employees like myself, (no I was not like 80 or something), were more reliable. Newcomers would just be more resources to train they said. But I guessed this document was an exception to that.
Looking at the "Mimicker" folder, there was a video titled "No End." I clicked it and pressed play. The spacebar depressed with a soft thud.
The video started in first person, heavy breathing filling the background. The person was running through what looked like the same place as in the image, probably an Adapter. They suddenly stopped and turned around. It was so dark I could not even tell which direction they were facing, but I heard a female voice muttering between breaths.
"I tried… oh God… I can't see…"
Then a cracking sound could be heard somewhere behind her, like bones breaking. But without the sound of screaming. She muttered again, her voice shaking a bit.
"Somebody… please… help me…"
Out of nowhere the camera dropped to the ground. She was dragged out of view. I could not see what was pulling her, but I heard her screaming.
"No, no, stop, stop, it hurts, it hurts—"
The words cut into the wet sound of flesh tearing. Then nothing. Silence could only be heard.
The recording kept going. I skipped ahead, almost two hours of pure nothing. The progress bar moved forward. Eventually someone found the camera. They picked it up and turned it toward their face. It was hard to see, but I could tell he was middle aged, rough looking, and tired.
"I'm… I'm done. Been walking for… I don't know. Hours. Days maybe. There's nothing here. No exit. No way out." He paused, breathing heavy. "Just sending this… so you know. Don't come here. Whatever this mimicker is… this place… I can't… if I say it, it's already over. I know that much." His voice cracked. "I'm not making it."
After that, the recording stopped. The screen went black for a moment.
Rest in peace to those two, but it was still pretty tough retrieving this folder like I said before. Usually I had to go to the dead world, find the D.E.A.D. facility, which was basically a version of it from the living world, put the files into a USB, and then come back. It sounded simple when I said it like that, but it was tedious. I had to wait almost a whole day for them to set everything up on their end. If you were wondering, it took about a week for files to be properly sent into the facility.
Typically, the facility in the Dead Dream was just a temporary holding place for those files. They sat there until we retrieved them. Many had tried sending them directly to the living world, but for some reason that did not work. No one really explained why. So we stuck with this long process instead. I dragged the video into the D.E.A.D. folder and saw no issue. At least that part went smoothly.
After that, there was one final file in the folder titled "A message by the President of D.E.A.D." I clicked it. I expected a long essay because the president always wrote long, paragraphs on top of paragraphs. Another reason why I hated the dude.
It read:
"Many people keep asking why The End Mimicker cannot be revealed like the others. The answer is simple. If we reveal it, there will no longer be a concept of an 'end.'"
Would that not be a good thing? If there was no end, that meant no death. And if death became less likely, then fewer people would end up in the Dead Dream. At least that was how it sounded to me. But who knew. I was just thinking.
I dragged the file into the D.E.A.D. folder. The folder icon closed with a soft click sound.
And that was it. I did my job, at least for now. I could not relax if I knew another day was coming right after.
I pressed the power button on the computer. The plastic button sank under my finger. The only light in the room shut off, and I was left in complete darkness. Now I remembered why this room was always dark. There were no windows at all. Of course there were none. I was underground.
I pushed myself off the chair and grabbed my bag. The fabric strap felt cold in my hand. Standing up so suddenly made my body feel heavy, like the blood had not caught up yet. My neck was strained and stiff from staring at the screen for hours. I sighed and walked toward the door. Even without seeing much, I knew the exact layout of the room. I had memorized every step. Sometimes though, I still hit my head on the wall.
I pulled out my ID card hanging around my neck and hovered it over the reader. The plastic was warm from my body heat. The red light turned green with a soft beep and the door unlocked. A click echoed through the room. Even leaving a room required an ID card. If we lost it, we got stuck inside. And if that happened, we had no choice but to work overtime until someone let us out, and also because they wanted to monitor us.
I stepped into the hallway and the bright white light blinded me for a second. My eyes watered. I squinted and adjusted my vision as it settled. I started walking to the left. The floor hummed under my steps. There were multiple metal doors lining the hallway, each with letters and numbers carved into them. The letter represented our last name. Mine was R for Ronkai. It was a weird name my dad gave me. There was no deep meaning behind it. He just said it sounded tough. If I was being honest, I did not think I was tough at all.
The number represented how many document controllers remained in this section of the underground facility. I was 999, if you cared.
Up ahead, I turned right into another hallway and walked until I reached the elevator. The air got colder near the doors. Just as I was about to use my ID card, I heard footsteps behind me. It was a slow but casual walk. I already knew who it was.
I turned around and saw my coworker Zoey. She had that same cheerful but tired look on her face, like she was forcing the energy. She gave me a small wave. I lifted my hand back at her. She stepped up beside me.
"So," she said lightly, "how bad was it today?" She hovered her card over the reader. A beep sounded. The elevator doors slid open and we stepped inside. The metal floor was smooth under my shoes.
"The usual," I said. "Tiring."
She let out a soft laugh. It was sweet and almost soothing, which felt wrong in a place like this. It did not match the metal walls or the silence.
"Those chairs are torture," she said, stretching her arms above her head. Her joints cracked. "My back is officially broken."
"You should be used to them by now," I replied.
She glanced at me. "I refuse to get used to being uncomfortable. That sounds depressing."
"It's normal for me."
She smiled a little wider. "Maybe you just need to get used to me instead."
I looked at her. "I'm used to you. Just don't get a big head about it."
She pouted for a second, then just as fast, the pout disappeared and the cheerful look came back. Like she switched a flip. That was one of her perks. She dropped things fast. A bit too fast. Sometimes it felt fake.
Everything about her felt a little fake. Because nobody, and I mean nobody, should feel happy in this place. Anyone who did was either pretending, or there was something wrong with them.
Once the elevator stopped, the doors slid open. A ding sounded. Zoey stepped out in front of me and gave me one last glance over her shoulder. She smiled like a warm camp.
"Alright, don't miss me too much," she said casually. "See you tomorrow."
I watched her back as she walked away, her black hair falling straight down her shoulders. For a split second, I noticed her posture loosen. I ignored it.
I stepped out after her. I was now in the main hub of the facility. The elevator had taken me up from the underground levels. Various workers moved around the open space. If there was one thing that still surprised me, it was the sheer size of this place. Plants were placed around the area, clean polished floors reflecting the light, and sunlight casting down from the glass ceiling above. The air smelled faintly of soil and leaves. Machines wandered around too. Not smart ones, just simple cleaning units that helped keep everything spotless. Their wheels whirred quietly.
I walked past the large crowd. Noise filled the artificial air. People talking from every direction, footsteps flying around the air (Invisible floors), machines humming. Usually I did not mind it. But today I did. I was too tired. The crowd drained whatever little energy I had left. The voices blended into a dull roar.
But again, it did not matter. The next day I would work. It would be the same. Maybe less tedious, maybe more. Either way, I went home.