> entering: ROOM 000
fourteen square meters. wall-to-wall beige carpet with a stain near the north corner shaped like nothing in particular. one folding chair. one vent that hums in B-flat, mostly.
there was a note on the chair when i woke up:
"if you are reading this, the light works. don't fix it. — m."
i don't know who m is. i haven't fixed the light. it flickers on a rhythm i think is trying to spell something but the intervals don't match any morse i've been trained on. i'm checking cyrillic next.
if i sit in the folding chair too long, the door to the hallway locks. i have learned this three times.
— recorded from the folding chair, standing up.