Thea stepped into the fluorescent glow of the office corridor with a mental checklist already forming in her head: exits, threats, patterns. Her ID badge itched on her neck like a warning label. Igor followed, reluctantly adjusting his ridiculous "COFFEE OPTIMIZATION ASSOCIATE" lanyard and already muttering sarcastic commentary under his breath.
The space ahead looked like a generic office straight out of a stock photo library — cubicles arranged like a maze, beige walls, plastic potted plants in every corner. But the silence was too thick. Not "dead office" quiet. Engineered quiet. Like everything was waiting.
Then came the voice.
"Good morning, Team!" said a chirpy female voice through unseen speakers. "Welcome to another productive day at EnCompTech! Remember: Smiles are productivity's best friend!"
Igor arched an eyebrow. "We're about to get murdered by something in a tie, aren't we?"
They passed by the first cubicle. A man sat at the desk, hands poised on a keyboard… but unmoving. His face was blank, eyes open, screen filled with lines of gibberish. His badge read: "Harold B. – Workplace Satisfaction Enthusiast."
Thea snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. Nothing. Not even a blink.
"He's like a screensaver," she whispered. "Looks alive but just… loops."
"Not people," Igor confirmed. "Data. Or props. The mannequin voice said that."
They ventured deeper. Cubicles turned corners like a maze. Occasionally, they'd see a "coworker" — a woman on a phone that wasn't plugged in, a man sipping from an empty mug, a teenaged intern typing without moving his fingers.
And the printer.
God help them, the printer.
It was in the center of the office. Massive. Whirring like an old engine about to explode. Sheets of paper spilled from its tray in a constant stream, piling on the floor. Every now and then it would whisper.
"File… file… you forgot the file…"
Thea picked up one of the papers. It was a photo of her, aged maybe eight, holding a birthday balloon with Igor laughing behind her.
On the next page, the balloon had a face. A smiling, human face.
She dropped it fast.
"TASK UPDATE," the voice blared. "Thea Quinnell, please file the archival printouts in Subsection E. Igor Zelinsky, a supervisor is waiting for your performance report in the kitchen."
"I don't have a performance report," Igor said.
"You will if you wait long enough," Thea muttered. "Let's split for a minute. You go to the kitchen, I'll go to this 'Subsection E' and see what they're hiding."
Igor made a face. "Splitting up. Classic horror mistake."
"Classic test logic," she said. "They're trying to make us choose obedience or survival. So let's do both."
They nodded and split.
Thea — Subsection E
The further she moved from the main office floor, the less normal everything looked.
Posters on the walls read:"BE THE BEST YOU THAT WE WANT YOU TO BE.""ERROR-FREE IS HUMAN.""PLEASE DON'T FEED THE HR."
Subsection E was a single room. Cold. White walls. Dozens of filing cabinets with no labels. She opened the nearest drawer.
No files.
Just… items.
A broken pair of sunglasses.
A melted popsicle.
A train ticket.
And a single photo — of her and Igor, asleep on the train last night.
She felt a cold sweat gather at the base of her neck.
"Who are you people?" she whispered.
Behind her, a cabinet door slammed shut on its own.
Igor — The Kitchen
The "kitchen" was a nightmare in pastels. Smiling fruit-themed wallpaper. A humming refrigerator that vibrated when he stepped too close.
Inside, a tall man in a supervisor badge sat sipping coffee from a chipped mug.
The mug read:"YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE HUMAN TO WORK HERE — BUT IT HELPS!"
The man turned. No face.
Just smooth skin where eyes and nose should be. A mouth that opened… sideways.
"You late," the thing said, voice bubbling like boiling tar. "Performance review begin now."
Igor smiled flatly. "Sure. Let's review. I think this whole office sucks."
The thing stood.
Its limbs bent wrong. Too many joints.
"Igor," it gurgled, "You are falling short of your optimization quotas. Let us adjust you."
It reached forward.
He hurled a coffee pot at its head.
The Printer Room — Reunited
Thea came sprinting back toward the printer room just as Igor crashed into a cubicle wall, sending fake files flying.
"Was your supervisor friendly and professional?" she asked, catching him.
"Guy had a great smile. No face, but A+ dental energy."
"Yeah. Subsection E has souvenirs from our lives. They've been watching us since before this."
Igor dusted himself off. "Think we pass this level by surviving long enough?"
"I think it's simpler," Thea said, picking up another printed paper. It was blank — except for a glowing green stamp:
EXIT GRANTED.
Then another.
And another.
The printer suddenly stopped whirring. A soft chime rang out.
"Congratulations, participants!" the overhead voice said, too happy. "You've successfully completed Level One!"
A door opened near the back, where there had definitely not been a door before.
"Next stop: The Neighborhood."
Thea and Igor stood side by side, staring into the dark hallway beyond.
"I swear," Igor muttered, "if this neighborhood has an HOA, I'm flipping a table."
Thea gave a thin smile. "Come on. Let's see what fresh horror suburbia has to offer."
They stepped through the door.
The light blinked off behind them.