Max’s feet moved from pavement to hard gray carpet 

closed in by flimsy walls,

stained with ancient coffee. 

Walls that rumbled with the AC that chilled him deeper than the evening mist.

The Building was always frigid, since it was where they kept the private servers that Max was hired to maintain. 

“It’s really the only reason we still pay for the building.”  

Max’s boss had told him, the first and last time they met.    

The office was dark, the blinds were drawn. 

The lights were sensors that never picked up his presence right away. 

In those moments, when the only thing that illuminated the office was the memory of the sunlight outside,  

Mundane shadows came to life, taking vague, almost human shapes as they crept and scattered across cubicles and hallways. 

There was always one shape Max tried not to look at.

The

T 

H

I

N

looming figure that slipped from cracks and corners to stand, 

neck bent just so, 

and look across the office at Max. 

Unlike the others, this shadowed felt the MOST alive. 

And, just as the dread began to build within Max’s chest at the thought of the thing in the corner, 

the lights would flicker on.

Max’s eyes would adjust.

He would look down 

           The rows

and rows    and rows  

and rows    and rows 

and rows    and rows 

and rows    and rows 

of 

empty cubicles 

and the shadows would be gone. 

As Max made his way towards his desk, white lights illuminated the ghosts of coworkers he’d never met: 

Worn desk chairs, 

dusted monitors, 

the mysterious potted plant that seemed to change locations each week, 

the watercolor he never dared to drink from, but was always full, 

greeted him with unnerving, unchanging, familiarity. 

Max sat in his assigned seat.

He glanced over at Susan’s desk, who was across from him. 

Max had never met Susan, 

but he loved her desk. 

It was covered in a menagerie of paper animals, hot air balloons, streamers, boats, planes and all manner of little things and scenes. 

Day - to - day, 

Week - to - week,

it always changed. 

This was how Max knew Susan was real.  

One day, he left Susan a note, about how he loved the animals. 

Then Susan left a note about how happy this made them. 

On it went, until every morning, Max was greeted with a happy little note stuck right in the middle of his pitch black monitor. 

Max slid into his chair and looked at Today’s Note: 

it was written on a cute piece of sticky stationary with turtles on it.  

Susan was very thoughtful. 

The note read, in Susan’s sweet scratch:

Max looked over at a small, green origami turtle that held a gift card in his mouth. 

The card was splashed with filagree patterns, and in dark script read: 

"Tom's Diner" 

"That’s lucky…” 

Max smiled, slipping the card into his pocket and pulling out his pink post-its to write back, gently tucking the note in the basket of one of the paper hot air balloons. 

Max checked the time:

 8:00 

Time to start work. 

He gathered his laptop, 

slung his utility bag over his shoulder, 

gave his new turtle a “pat” on its tiny head before tucking it into the pocket of his shirt, and headed for the servers.   

The rumble and roar of the ever churning systems echoed in Max's ears. 

Quickly, he slipped in his earplugs to dampen the noise, and pulled up his hood. 

No matter how many shifts he worked, Max could never get used to the cold of the data center. 

“COLD AND LOUD IS GOOD!” 

He remembered his boss booming, 

“IT'S HOT AND QUIET YOU HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT!" 

slapping Max on the back and bidding him to follow through the maze of black towers. 

Max reminded himself that the cold meant an uneventful night for him. He cracked open his laptop, placing it on the empty cart by the door, and looked at his checklist: 

- Install new mirrors to check for new indicator lights  

- Double check the new rack that the day shift installed 

Easy!

Overnight shifts rarely had anything significant to do, apart from the occasional disaster, but those were rare. 

Max whistled a tune he couldn’t hear, but knew was off key, as he clicked open he cages for the new racks:

“Nothing unusual.” 

He noted, snapping a few pictures with his phone to keep track of how it had been wired. 

Max then unfurled a ladder from the bottom of his cart, balancing it against a wall by the tower to place the mirrors. 

There were 4 to place:

One in the back right corner,  

One in the front left corner 

One by the entrance

One in the center aisle  

He decided to tackle the back right corner, first, adjusting it until he could see the little blinking green light it was supposed to catch. 

“Next one…” 

Max mumbled, 

wheeling his cart one aisle over, and placing the next mirror towards the center, and checking the glass for the happy green light. 

The third was very much the same: 

-placed up high

-funny green light.

The last mirror: 

was to be placed at the end of the back hall, 

where the cages  of servers ended. 

The mirror 

looked 

down 

the 

hall 

so 

far 

that Max found himself lost in the reflection.  

The elongated stretch 

of black towers, 

stood 

as great 

obelisks.  

Each one 

filled

with churning numbers

that hummed with knowledge. 

Max knew the sound: 

the harmonious rumble of the cooling systems, 

the rolling song of their heat.

A sound that wormed its way into your bones and shook you from the inside. 

Max closed his eyes, touching the foam in his ears,

"I want to hear them..."

Max thought.

He had almost pulled the plugs from his ears when he felt the soft brush of something woven and metal against his calf. 

Startled, his eyes snapped open to see the a shadow, caught in the mirror, quickly curving around one of the towers. 

Max froze when he saw the tower at the end of the hall,

gutted, 

cables spilling out over the floor in visceral anguish.

Max slapped his hand over his mouth, resisting the urge to cry out to the figure.

"It's probably just a co-worker." 

Max reminded himsef.

It was best not to call out to co-workers when you saw them. 

Some co-workers were shy.

Max snapped his head away from the mirror to look down the hallway with his own eyes.

He took a deep breath.

There was no gutted tower, 

no mysterious movement, 

no co-worker.  

Everything was the way it was supposed to be. 

Everything was normal. 

Everything was fine.

Max’s eyes were false. 

Maybe, he was stressed. 

Maybe, he simply needed a visit to the employee decompression room, if he was seeing things. 

“But, just incase…” 

He thought to himself, wandering over to the row where he’d seen the damage, and the mysterious figure. 

There was nothing wrong, nothing too out of the ordinary. 

But, within the cage there was a small pink note that read, 

“Six”

Max carefully took the paper, 

and closed the cage. 

He felt a rumble behind his ears.

The mirror watched. 

Max’s heart paced, 

the rattling sound making him uneasy. 

Quickly, 

he left the servers and his cart behind.