The vault

I couldn't remember ever noticing this alleyway before, despite walking past it almost every day.

Turning the corner, I saw what seemed to be a small shed in an empty lot. Contrast the rugged yet clean white stone of the nearby buildings with this singular, metallic-looking shed.

Disconnected? I'd say it seemed that way, even though both buildings were just as modern as this city flaunts itself to be.

"…?"

The door is slightly nudged. Must have been the wind? Probably not.

I pulled the handle to shut the door completely. I assume whoever owns this thing would rather not have some water slip through the front door.

I shut my eyes for a second. Perhaps a second too long. I instantly feel the waste of time spent being here. At this rate, I'm going to be a husk when I come into work tomorrow.

Before I get back to the alleyway corner, a sudden weight pervades my mind.

I stop.

"Huh?"

For a second, it feels as though my attention is being dragged away from me, toward the shed.

I take a few more steps towards the exit. Nothing. Whatever that was, it must have been the wind, I guess.

…

…

I opened the shed door.

It seems to be a storage spot for workers to drop off their equipment. Various tools are assorted among the steel shelves. Thick, yellow rain jackets hang on a nearby rack. A large whiteboard, with poorly erased smudges and pinned papers, listing a bunch of charts and numbers.

Boring. Mundane. Exactly what I should've expected. All things really driving the point that I am really, really wasting my time.

I approach the whiteboard. Mostly chores, procedures, the usual list of things someone decided workers needed reminding about. Either these sheets were replaced recently, or nobody actually reads them.

The clipboard hanging beneath the pristine pages looks like it's been handled a thousand times. Handwritten signatures and logs for a paper titled "Daily Boiler and Circulation Log". Clearly the thing that truly matters around here compared to the corporate drivel above it.

My glance continues to wander as I walk around until it stops at the far corner of the room. A stairway with metal handrails leads down to what I presume is the boiler room. As I approach it, a faint light flickers somewhere below.

Probably just a dying panel.

Against my better judgement, I descend into the darkness.

The stairs open into a wider maintenance area split by concrete walls and metal railings. A few narrow passages branch off in different directions.

The faint light I saw was coming from an old light panel overhead, barely doing its job. The large boiler sat in the center with its many pipes spreading into the walls and the floor.

SLAM

I flinched hard enough to look like I was dodging a bullet. It sounded like a metal pipe fell somewhere deep down the corridor to my right.

I looked toward the tunnel. Caution tape lined both sides of the entrance.

Likely not the direction the typical workers were allowed to cross through. A metal security gate blocked the interior—or at least it was supposed to.

The door stood completely open, with a faint wisp of smoke curling from the frame.

I walked down the tunnel before I could give the consequences much thought.

For some reason, the tunnel was much longer than it looked from the entrance. Long enough to discourage anyone who wandered in here looking for a bathroom.

The LED strips on the bottom corners of the floor paired with the minimal light panels on the ceiling guided me forward.

At the end of this tunnel was a steel staircase heading up to a dark interior.

What I encountered after climbing the steps was an enormous warehouse lined with rows of steel shelving. Like someone had scaled up the shed upstairs and then filled it with the contents of a secondhand shop. Except this place was a mess.

Objects thrown haphazardly together into bins like someone was trying to move out. Mostly household objects like keys, utility tools, articles of clothing, that sort of thing. It seems the items are organized by ID numbers posted on the edge of the shelf.

My head pulsed again.

Not like before. This time, it was clear something was pulling my mind here. My attention snapped toward something in the room and refused to settle anywhere else. I scan my eyes methodically through each shelf till it was unmistakable. It was coming from a bin on roughly the 5th shelf, almost a bit out of my reach. I jumped and nudged the bin inch-by-inch towards me till I could safely catch it, placing it on the floor.

Small handheld electronics was the best way I could describe it. A sort of scrap box filled with weirdly shaped tools riddled with wires and tiny screens. I sifted through the items till I found it.

A janky pair of taped-together goggles.

They look like the kind of goggles you'd use for riding a skimmer. Though the wires peeking out of the tape suggested otherwise.

"You also lost in the lost-and-found?"

I turn my head towards the lightly pitched voice, slipping my hands into my pocket.

"Maybe? I only found junk so far," I responded as though I knew what she was talking about.

The figure approached and revealed herself to be a lady about no taller than me. She was wearing a lighter version of the yellow rain jackets I saw earlier. Her hands were awkwardly clasped together as if her fingers were lost.

She takes a quick glance towards the bin, then scans me before squinting.

"Do I know you?"

"Probably not? I think you're confusing me with someone else."

"Then why are you going through my stuff?"

My hand froze in my pocket. My fingers were wrapped around the goggles.

I take a step back from the bin. My hand started to come out—then she brushed me aside and rummaged through the bin.

"You don't work here," she states with the dryness of a university professor.

"No, not at all."

"Then how'd you get in?"

"The door was unlocked. I kind of just kept going."

She paused and swiveled her head towards me.

"So you saw an open door to an underground restricted facility and just kept walking?"

"Hehehe… yeah?" I responded with the compounding stupidity hitting me like a truck.

She lets out a visible sigh before placing the bin down.

"Well it's not here." She looks to the gap where I pulled the bin from. "266…267… 267… oh of course."

She jumps and reaches for the bin, only for it to be pulled down with a bit too much force.

All of the stuff now scattered around the floor.

"We're going to forget this happened," she says as she continues to crawl around the mess.

I proceed with collecting some of the stuff into the bin without a second thought as if I were the janitor here.

"What are you even doing here?" she asked with a stern tone.

The question cut deep into my nervous system.

By following a ghost. "Out of curiosity, I guess."

At this point, following a ghost would've sounded better.

"Curiosity? Curiosity? Curious…"

The scuffling stopped.

I looked over to see her staring at some sort of mechanical brick. She revealed a small pouch concealed by the raincoat, then slid the gadget into it.

Well, I guess she found what she came for.

"I just realized I never asked your name."

"My name?" she repeated, still fastening the pouch.

CLICK

Before she could answer, the lights flashed completely on, exposing everything.

Or at least, one thing immediately caught my eye, printed along the edge of the bin.

Nimbus. A name ingrained in my head from all of the case files I handled in my previous job.

"UNAUTHORIZED PRESENCE DETECTED. PLEASE EXIT THE RESTRICTED AREA. SECURITY RECORDINGS WILL BE REVIEWED."

"Well, our chat is done. This is the part where you disappear and we forget we ever met," she stated while pointing at the stairs.

The goggles. My fingers suddenly tensed. I need to put these back. I don't even know why I still have them on me.

I stared at the bin.

"PLEASE EXIT THE RESTRICTED AREA IMMEDIATELY."

"We need to leave now!"

Why am I still holding onto this?

Do I need them at all? Not at all.

But I want the goggles.

"FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL INITIATE SECURITY RESPONSE."

The girl stopped wasting her time with me and hurried down the stairs without looking back.

My mind raced to find any reason for me to take the goggles, yet nothing.

I can't put them back.

I can't take them with me.

I can't just leave.

I can't.

I ran towards the stairs. The goggles remained in my pocket.

"RESTRICTED AREA VIOLATION CONFIRMED. SECURITY RESPONSE PENDING."

I hurried down the stairs and was met with the blinding white walls of the tunnel. I kept my legs moving as only the sound of my footsteps echoed around me.

Isn't this the part where the alarms start blaring?

Reaching the boiler room, I took a short moment to catch my breath. While my gaze was towards the floor, I saw a small strip of cyan duct tape stuck to the bottom of a nearby pipe. Though the pipes around it looked clean and relatively brand new to have any leaks.

I reminded myself about the situation I was in. I need to leave.

I stomped up the shed's staircase. As I approached, tires screeched to a halt outside.

I froze.

A camera stared down at me above the doorway.

Of course.

My heart sank.

I ran back down the steps in search of a different exit. Near one of the tunnels, another strip of cyan tape was attached to the base of the wall.

It must have been her.

She went this way.

Through it, I was met with a series of maintenance tunnels. I thought I'd enter a sewer down here, but I guess it might be on a different level. I would probably get lost in here if it weren't for the occasional cyan strips guiding me.

I finally reached a ladder leading to the surface.

I luckily found myself in a familiar area behind the shops. I made my way to the station and rode the train towards my apartment as if my little detour never happened.

It almost felt like nothing had happened at all.

But the goggles I held in my hands are proof it wasn't a dream. I could barely try to rationalize how I was even here right now.

Did the camera see me?

Of course it did.

But then why hadn't the place detected me when I first came in?

It had to be something she did. Whoever that lady was, she probably broke in before me and messed with the security system.

Maybe the cameras were part of it too.

On instinct, I pulled out my phone to search the local news.

"We're currently investigating the incident. Unfortunately, no direct witnesses so far."

My shoulders eased up. I can at least take a breather, for now.

I assume that whatever her plan was, she made sure no one was looking.

Damn. 2 AM. My eyes drooped. Keeping my head up suddenly felt like a balancing act.

I had enough thinking for one night.

My body carried itself home. It knew every action required to end the night despite the detour in the routine.

Arrived home. Changed to some lighter clothing. Checked my alarm was set to 7 AM. Laid down on the couch.

Only for a moment…

…

…

"BREAK YOUR OWN LIMITER—"

My hand dismissed the alarm. My eyes opened. The room’s ceiling light contrasted with the moody blue light of the outside.

Damn. I passed out. At this point, I should really avoid my couch at all costs.

Though this time around I did not feel that guilty.

What I should feel guilty about is…

The goggles. What the hell am I going to do with these? I stared at them, trying to feel out a reaction within me that could give me the answer.

Nothing.

I picked them up and pulled the strap over my head. For something covered in wires and hardware, they were surprisingly light. The lenses were even clearer than the tint would have you expect. My fingers glided across the sides looking for a way to interact. There didn’t seem to be any physical buttons oddly enough.

Then I noticed a small icon near the bottom right of my vision. A microphone symbol. I thought this thing was off from how nothing entering my vision.

“Uh, goggles, turn on?”

…

“Power on?”

…

“Voice control activate?”

…

“Help?”

Still nothing.

I took them off and tried to inspect the goggles more closely. I was hoping to find a model or a brand associated with this thing. But it was clean.