Page 121 of Immersed
What if I die and don’t come back next time?
“We need to backtrack,”Levi decided, pushing the existential questions aside.“Try another route.”
They retraced their steps, then took a different turn, following a corridor that curvedgraduallyto the right. The décor was even more elaborate with gilt-framed paintings lining the walls, depicting serene landscapes that contrasted with the decay and horror all around.
The corridor narrowed, the walls pressing inward without apparent cause. Levi felt his breathing quicken, memories of the crushing plates flashing through his mind. Asher’s hand settled at the small of his back, guiding him forward with firm pressure.
“Just keep moving, I’ve got you.”
I know.
The passage continued to contract until they were forced to turnsidewaysto proceed, their bodies presseduncomfortablyclose in the confined space. Asher used the opportunity to let his hands wander, fingers trailing along Levi’s sides, slipping beneath his shirt to touch bare skin.
“Stop,”Levi hissed, trying to create space where there was none.“This isn’t the time.”
“There’s never a right time in this place,”Asher replied, his voice low and intimate in the narrow passage.“We take what moments we can.”
Before Levi could respond, the corridor widenedabruptly, depositing them in a small antechamber. The walls here were lined with filing cabinets, a thick layer of dust covering every surface. A nameplate on the door ahead read“Loretta Saunders, Asst. Admin Director.”
The door was locked, but that didn’t stop Asher. His lock picks made quick work of the mechanism, the door swinging open with a protesting creak of long-disused hinges.
Beyond lay a spacious office dominated by a massive mahogany desk. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with medical texts and leather-bound journals. A portrait of Faine himself hung above a cold fireplace, younger than in the photos they’d seen before.
“Search for anything with the triangular symbol,”Levi instructed, already moving toward the desk.“The voice recording should be—”
A sound from behind made him turn. The door they’d entered through had vanished, replaced by solid wall. The only exit now was a different door on the far side of the office—one that hadn’t been there when they entered.
Levi returned his attention to the desk, rifling through drawers filled with administrative detritus—expense reports, staff evaluations, patient transfer forms. Nothing that matched the triangular symbol they’d come to associate with Faine’s security system.
“Levi,”Asher called from across the room.“Look at this.”
He was standing before a glass-fronted cabinet that contained what appeared to be a medical timeline: photographs and documents arrangedchronologically, showing Faine’s gradual transformation from man to monster, small audio cassettes with numbers written on the faded labels, and a single eye floating in yellow liquid.
The earliest photos showed him as a conventional doctor, proud in his white coat. Then came images of early experiments—surgical procedures involving components. The later photographs documented Faine’s self-experimentation, his body increasingly integrated with the machinery he designed.
“He was replacing himself piece by piece,”Asher said, a note of fascination in his voice.“Becoming his own immortality experiment.”
The final image showed Faine seated in an elaborate chair, tubes and wires connecting hisbody to the sanitarium itself. His eyes were still human, though eerilyalert, watching the camera with disturbing awareness.
“The date on this,”Levi noted, pointing to the label beneath the last photograph.“It’s thirty years after the sanitarium closed.”
A soft click from behind the cabinet drew their attention. A panel in the wall had slid open, revealing a hidden alcove. Inside, mounted on a pedestal, was a dictation machine that contained his voice recording.
“The second key,”Levi said, moving toward it.“But how did it—”
“The building is watching us,” Asher said simply. “Listening.Responding.”
It was an unsettling thought, but it aligned with what they’d seen so far. The sanitarium wasn’t just a structure; it was an entity with its own awareness, its own agenda. Perhaps an extension of Faine himself, or something he had created that had evolved beyond his original design.
The dictation machine was similar to old medical recording equipment, with a cylindrical medium and playback mechanism. The triangular symbol was engraved on its base beside an inscription:“Speak with the voice of the creator.”
“The tapes in the cabinet,”Levi said.“We need to find something to play them on.”
Before Levi could turn around, a loud bang echoed through the office. The new door, the only exit, burst open to reveal Maddie and Tyler, breathless and wide-eyed.
“There you are!”Maddie exclaimed, relief evident in her voice.“We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
Tyler remained in the doorway.“This place is a maze,”he said.“Corridors that should connect don’t, doors that were there one minute are gone the next.”
