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Speaker 1: I'm not saying the money made it worth it, but

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it did keep me faired. The kind of job I had, hell,

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the kind of place we worked was the sort of

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thing you didn't exactly talk about at family gatherings. I

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never brought it up with my brother when he called,

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didn't post about it, didn't take photos. I wasn't even

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allowed to keep a journal, not a real one anyway,

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only the pocket logs they issued, the kind where every

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page was marked confidential in bright red. And even then

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we weren't supposed to write anything more detailed than shift

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notes and tool sign outs. But if you're the type

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who's ever stared down the barrel of a second eviction

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notice or wondered if that noise in the ceiling meant

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you couldn't afford the exterminator again, you'll understand why I

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took the job. I got the call through someone who

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knew someone, a guy had contract rigging work with out

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in Arizona. He didn't tell me what the job was,

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just that it paid triple and they needed people who

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could keep their heads down. The phone call was short.

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I didn't even give a formal yes, just silence long

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enough for him to say all right, I'll pass that on.

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Two days later, I got a message on my old

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work email that was still connected to my phone. I

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hadn't used it in years. There was no subject line,

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no sender list, just a set of coordinates, the time,

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and instructions to bring id and steal toe boots. It

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felt off every part of it, but I was behind

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on rent and the other job I'd lined up fell through.

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I told myself it was probably some private sector contract gig,

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maybe security or survey were nothing legal, just quiet. I

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drove five hours to a truck stop in the middle

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of nowhere, an unmarked van already waiting. The driver didn't

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say a word, just pointed to the back like he'd

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done it a hundred times before, and I climbed in,

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because desperate people do strange things. When the numbers finally

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stopped working in their favor, we drove for what felt

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like hours. The windows were blacked out and my phone

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was taken and sealed in a lead lined pouch, the

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kind you could only release with a strong magnet. Nobody spoke,

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and when the van finally stopped, we were at a

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small private airfield, bare concrete, a single floodlight and a

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plane waiting on the tarmac. Too small to be commercial,

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The plane wasn't marked, just a featureless charter jet. Inside

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were half a dozen other guys, spaced out like strangers

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at a funeral. The windows were frosted over. The only

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thing they served us water in sealed bags like ivy fluid.

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When we landed, it was dark again, and I was

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left disoriented. Everything felt wrong in a way I couldn't

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quite name. My body. Knew I'd crossed too many time

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zones or altitudes or both, but no one ever told

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us where we were. The air outside was thin and sharp,

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and the men who met us wore plain gray jackets

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and carried clipboards. They handed us gear bags at the

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staging facility and told us strip out everything we came

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in with, clothes, wallets, and anything from the outside, with

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the exception of our boots. Our ideas were stuck facing

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the outside so they could easily identify the owners, and

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they stuffed it all into a heavy plastic bin that

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was wheeled away. Without a word. They handed us jumpsuits

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and blank eyed ee badges. All I know was that

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it was up high somewhere. It was not quite mountain

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range level, but definitely past the tree line. The air

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was thin and cold enough that your nostrils cracked and burned.

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You couldn't see anything outside the fence but gray sky

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rock and snow smooth hills that never changed no matter

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how long you stared. I don't think it was on

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any map. I say that because I've locked. God knows

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I've locked. The sight itself looked like a prison complex,

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everything built from prefab concrete and modulus. Thee right orange

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floodlights on timers that ran like clockwork, a mess hall,

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four DRN buildings, a machine shop, and the shaft are

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itself a series of structures built into the slope like

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a scar that hadn't healed right. They couldn't shake the

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feeling that there was a small chance this was a

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trick and I was never getting that money they promised.

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They called it the dig despite it being a mine.

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Our job was to keep it operational. Cruise rotated in

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and out every lunar cycle for exactly twenty eight days.

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We didn't work by month. Instead, we worked by the moon.

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What we were digging for wasn't exactly clear, not to

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me officially. We cleared debris, stabilized support columns, and tested

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gas level. The actual excavation was handled by remote systems

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deeper down, All we ever saw would contain us being

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brought up and loaded into sealed trucks, the guys unloading them.

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More radiation gear. We won't given any, told we didn't

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need it. The only rule that mattered, they told us

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during induction was this, No one goes below level seven.

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They made this clear. There was no reason to go

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past there, not even to retrieve a lost tool or

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follow a cable run. Even if people called for help,

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we were told to ignore it. If you detect unauthorized

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comms from restricted levels, log and escalate, do not engage.

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The safety officer told us during the briefing that was

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the only time the room went quiet. At first, it

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all felt strangely normal. Sure, the job wasn't typical, but

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for me it was easy work. The only thing that

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bothered me was that my sleep didn't feel RESTful, like

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my brain didn't have time to relax. Our schedule was simple,

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wake up at six am, eat, do safety checks, grab tools,

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and work. We spent eight hours down in the dark,

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with only the hum of light and the grumble of

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machines for company. Most of the dig was reinforced with

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old concrete and steel. Everything beyond level three had that

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pressure cooked look, with walls bowed in places and support

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beams rusted but still technically intact. There was dust in

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the air that never settled, so we wore respirators, but

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the air still tasted like blood and chalk. By level five,

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the stone changed. You could feel it under your boots.

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Everything sounded different, too. Your steps didn't echo the same way.

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It was like the walls swallowed sound. People talked less.

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The deeper we went, probably from the thinner oxygen. Level

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six had the worst of it. The air got warmer,

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tighter in the chest. Even the lights struggled down there.

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The bulbs glowed dimmer, always flickering. Some of the guys

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swore they saw things in the far corners of the shaft,

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just shadows, probably tricks on their tired eyes. But occasionally

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someone would shine a light into the dark and claim

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it bounced off something reflective, like cat eyes. And you

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could always hear something beneath your feet. He didn't sound mechanical,

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he was slower, heavier, something more like a breath or

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a pulse. Sorenson didn't say much his first week, but

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one day, when we were cleaning an old spill by

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the lockers on six, he paused mid scrape, just staring

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at the floor for a while. Then he said, almost

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to himself, I think my dreams know more about this

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place than I do. They showed me tunnel systems I

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haven't been in, but when I get there, I recognize them.

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What I asked, but he went back to scraping the

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floor like he hadn't heard me. There was something off

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about him that day, more than usual. He'd been getting

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stranger all week. I heard other workers whisper things when

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they thought no one was listening. Stuff that didn't make sense,

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like the mine wasn't built here it was reopened. One guy,

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Thompson saw he saw markings in the stone that didn't

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match any of our tools. I couldn't help but find

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the whole thing ridiculous. Being stuck in artificial life for

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eight hours a day clearly impacted these guys, and I

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wasn't about to let that happen to me and through

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it all. Level seven just waited. The first time I

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saw the door up close was during my rotation on

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safety checks. Level six was on my route and one

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of the daily tasks was to confirm the seal integrity

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on the level seven door. Every shift, someone had to

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take the elevator down, scan the world lines with the

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handheld thermal unit, and log the readings manually. The Level

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seven was solid steel, welded in three places, painted yellow

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and black like a wasp's nest. No keypad, no lock,

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just a placard restricted do not open. I marked it

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off of my checklist and realized I was holding my

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breath the entire time, as if something on the other

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side might hear me, and I swear I heard someone

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whisper from the other side, but I never told anyone

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how to fear of admitting I was catching whatever mental

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bug the other guys seemed to have. Sorenson disappeared on

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day nineteen, but we didn't realize straight away. We got

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used to guy's crashing early or skipping mess to sleep

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off of migrain. Nobody kept track of anyone unless they

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were your tool body for the shift. But when we

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lined up for checking the next morning, he didn't show.

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Someone joked that he'd finally quit and maybe he'd hiked

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out in the night. We all knew he'd been unraveling

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little things At first, he'd stand too close to the wall,

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as if listening for something. He started skipping mess and

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keeping food in his bunk, as if he didn't trust

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the kitchen. Once I found him standing in the equipment hallway,

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just staring at the rust stains on the floor. I

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remember he said they reminded him of a pattern, but

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he couldn't remember from where, maybe his dreams. Once again,

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he'd never expand on what he was saying. He started

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keeping a journal in his pocket. Log I caught glimpses

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of sketches of Spirali like shit apes and some teeth

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as well. One page had a date circled three times

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with the words do not follow underlined hard enough to

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tear the paper. He had been stationed near the freight

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elevator on six and said he kept hearing voices over

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the intercom even though no one was broadcasting. Said the

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signal was from seven. They said they pulled security footage

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to the check, but they never shared it with us. However,

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word got around. One night he bypassed the maintenance override

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and forced the service lift down. He'd taken a breathing tank,

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a work light, and one of the old crowbars that

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was it. He went down alone when everyone was sleeping.

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When we woke up and got to work, I noticed

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the lights across the lower levels started flickering in rhythm

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in a slow timed pulse four seconds on, four, off,

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over and over. The morning after that, Sorenson's name was

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gone from the manifest. The side supervisor wouldn't let any

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one descend below five for the next two days. Safety concerns,

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they said structure review. There was no mention of him

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in the bunk records. His gear locker was empty. Even

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his plate and cup from the mess were missing, like

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he'd never been there at all. That's when it really

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started to go wrong. On day twenty two, Wyatt took

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the emergency ladder between four and five after the main

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lift locked up again. It was the second time that week.

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He was furious, muttering about how the maintenance crew should

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be fired, and decided not to wait. He slept thirty

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feet and cracked two ribs on the landing. Said the

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rungs were slick with something, but when we checked they

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were spotless, like they'd been scrubbed. One day twenty three,

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Briggs had a seizure in the mess hall. Full tonic

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cronic he bit through his tongue, blood everywhere, and he

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took six guys to hold him down. He didn't remember

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it afterward, but he kept asking where the lights had gone.

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The lights were still on. Not long after that, a

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soft rattling started in the ventilation system. Constant like metal

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beads rolling around inside the duct work kept some of

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us up at night. We asked maintenance to check it out.

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They sent a guy. He climbed into the crawl space,

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came back down an hour later and said there was

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nothing there. Wouldn't meet our eyes when he said it.

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By day twenty four, our radio stopped working reliably. We'd

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hear our own voices looping back on a delay. Sometimes

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they came back distorted. Sometimes they said things we hadn't said.

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Someone asked to leave early and was denied. They said

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there wasn't transport scheduled until the next cycle, and breaking

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protocol would void its payment. He packed anyway and disappeared

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during the night. Nobody saw him again. The rest of

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us stopped asking questions. I started seeing shadows move where

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they shouldn't, first in the elevator reflection, then the corners

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of the dorm showers. They always disappeared when I turned

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to lock, and then there was the door to level seven.

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Every morning, during safety check on six, some one would

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swear the welds looked thinner, just a little like heats

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dress had started to pull them apart from the inside,

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but none of us wanted to be the one to measure.

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We didn't want to get close enough to prove it.

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It happened on day twenty six, midshift. We were down

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on Level five clearing out some half collapse support corridors

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when the tremors started. It didn't seem unusual at first,

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the place groaned all the time, but then a chunk

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of ceiling came down and took out our primary lift,

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an emergency ladder. One second we were tagging a busted pipe.

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The next second alarms were blaring and the whole tunnel

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was filled with dust and blinding us. We had five

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of us down there emergency protocol radio to use the

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service access shaft by the old pump station. It went

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around the main shaft, but was deeper and looped down

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through old maintenance corridors before connecting back up above the

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only working one left, which meant to go up. We

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had to go down first. That meant passing near seven.

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I remember standing at the base of the ladder and

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thinking how bad it had been for them to root

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us through that level despite the warnings. But the supervisors

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had radioed it, so he climbed. We hit level six,

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out of breath and wired. Deeke was coughing so hard

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I thought he'd pass out. Elson kept looking down at

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the shaft like he was paranoid. I couldn't help but

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think about my three remaining days, that after all of this,

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it would be worth it. Then we reached seven. The

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00:19:12,000 --> 00:19:16,720
change was instant. The temperature spiked like we'd stepped into

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a sealed room with no ventilation. It clung to us,

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hot and humid, like a sauna, but instead of wood,

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the air tasted of rot. It hit the back of

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the throat and stayed there, and breathing felt like inhaling

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00:19:32,359 --> 00:19:36,880
through a soaked rag. Pressure built in our ears and

257
00:19:36,920 --> 00:19:42,839
sweat started pooling inside the masks. Jeez, it's like breathing soup,

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I muttered, Why is it so hot down here, Deeke said,

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yanking at the strap of his mask. It's supposed to

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get colder the teeper we go. It's not just the heat.

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Nelson said, something's off. The air's thick. Then the lights

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behind us went individually, like someone was following and flipping

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a switch as they came. Deeke Slamp started to cut out,

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flickering to the rhythm of his footsteps. Nelson stopped climbing

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altogether and just froze. Do you hear that? He asked.

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I didn't want to, but yeah. There were voices in

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the walls, murmuring somewhere deep in the rock. Gomez dropped

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00:20:35,920 --> 00:20:39,720
his bag, trying to reach for his emergency beacon. It

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tumbled down the shaft, climbing off steel until the sound

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00:20:43,759 --> 00:20:53,000
just stopped. We kept going. At the next landing, we

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left the shaft and headed down the corridor that led

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deeper into seven. Inside was a chamber that felt almost alive.

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The walls weren't stone so much as tissue, dense and

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wet looking, with a surface that glistened in the lamp light.

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They flexed in slow waves, like muscles of a throat

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mid swallow. Every step squelched faintly, and the smell was

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worse than before. Then we saw him. Curled near the wall.

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Was what was left of Sorenson. He was dead. No question.

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His body was slumped like it had been dropped, but

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the chamber hadn't let him go. Something had fused him

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into the floor. His back was half sunk into the

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wet surface, skin stretched thin where it met the tissue,

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as if the walls were slowly pulling him in. The

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Film across his body pulsed faintly. One eye was still open,

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00:22:00,559 --> 00:22:04,319
dried and glazed over, like a dead fish, while his

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jaw hung slack in a way no living person could hold.

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You could see where the veins are darkened, branching into

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the floor like roots. The stench of raw meat left

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00:22:16,880 --> 00:22:22,359
out in the sun invaded through our respirators. Gomes whispered,

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that's why they redid the world. Geez Deeke muttered, voiced

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tight and higher than usual. He had one arm half

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shielding his face, like that would help. What the hell

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is this? This is sick, Gomez gagged behind his respirator.

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His voice was hollow. It feels like we're inside something's body.

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Nobody corrected him. Elson was shaking. I remember how his

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helmet light jetted across the walls like he couldn't keep

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00:23:02,200 --> 00:23:07,200
his head still. We shouldn't be here, he kept whispering,

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We're not supposed to see this. I didn't say a word.

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I was trying not to breathe to get through it.

300
00:23:17,880 --> 00:23:21,400
No way, I was cracking. With just a few days left,

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00:23:22,920 --> 00:23:26,720
the ground beneath us throbbed. Go Miss said something about

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a lighter head. I didn't see anything at first, just

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shadows stacked on shadows. But then something shifted, and I

304
00:23:38,640 --> 00:23:43,880
caught the shape of another shaft, lined in rusted brackets

305
00:23:44,160 --> 00:23:48,880
and half buried conduit. It looked like another access tunnel,

306
00:23:49,480 --> 00:23:55,440
smaller than ours, stretching straight up. Is that the old vertical?

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Deak asked, squinting, his voice cracked. He goes all the

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00:24:00,319 --> 00:24:06,400
way upright top side. I nodded. We all knew the

309
00:24:06,480 --> 00:24:10,160
layout from the emergency map. This one was a backup

310
00:24:10,279 --> 00:24:16,799
escape route, sealed decades ago, supposedly useless, But there it was.

311
00:24:18,920 --> 00:24:23,680
Then the light shifted again. Whatever comfort that shaft offered

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00:24:24,160 --> 00:24:31,319
disappeared when I realized it wasn't just exposed, It was open, unsealed,

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like it had been used recently, as when the skin

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00:24:35,880 --> 00:24:40,519
of my arms crawled. The heat pulsed again, thicker than before,

315
00:24:41,119 --> 00:24:46,920
and the walls began to breathe slower, heavier. I felt sick,

316
00:24:47,440 --> 00:24:51,359
like I was fighting a childhood fever. There was something

317
00:24:51,359 --> 00:24:55,640
in the center of the chamber, massive and still carved

318
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with ridges, like the roof of a mouth, only wider

319
00:24:59,119 --> 00:25:03,880
than anything should be. He didn't move, but I swear

320
00:25:04,079 --> 00:25:07,839
it felt like it was waiting. I stepped closer to

321
00:25:07,839 --> 00:25:11,160
get a look, and the thing in the center didn't move.

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00:25:12,880 --> 00:25:18,759
Behind me, someone whispered my name. I turned, but no

323
00:25:18,759 --> 00:25:24,200
one else had moved. The light posted again, not a flash,

324
00:25:24,799 --> 00:25:30,759
more like a deep rhythmic contraction. Everything flexed, The floor

325
00:25:30,839 --> 00:25:33,759
dropped half an inch beneath my boots, and the film

326
00:25:33,880 --> 00:25:38,599
rippled like it was breathing harder now. Deeke shouted something,

327
00:25:39,079 --> 00:25:42,559
but his voice didn't carry right. It came out bent

328
00:25:42,640 --> 00:25:47,880
and muffled, as if we were underwater. Nelson started backing

329
00:25:47,920 --> 00:25:53,519
toward the exit, stumbling over his own boots. That was

330
00:25:53,559 --> 00:25:57,160
when the tunnel behind us began to close in a

331
00:25:57,200 --> 00:26:01,720
slow tightening. I don't know what made me move first,

332
00:26:03,079 --> 00:26:09,119
maybe instinct, but I ran, leaving the others behind, pushing

333
00:26:09,200 --> 00:26:12,119
through the thick air, and I didn't dare look back.

334
00:26:13,240 --> 00:26:16,640
I threw myself into the old vertical, dragging with my

335
00:26:16,720 --> 00:26:23,000
elbows behind me. The corridor dimmed, swallowed by that pulsing heat.

336
00:26:24,759 --> 00:26:27,079
I remember the way the metal of the vent burned

337
00:26:27,119 --> 00:26:31,200
against my palms, the way the air changed, less heat,

338
00:26:31,559 --> 00:26:38,599
more cold, thinner again. I kept crawling, didn't think, just crawled.

339
00:26:41,119 --> 00:26:44,559
When the tremors started again, I thought the whole shaft

340
00:26:44,599 --> 00:26:50,279
would give, but it didn't. I kept climbing, hand over hand,

341
00:26:50,759 --> 00:26:54,599
forcing myself up through the shaft. It wasn't built for

342
00:26:54,680 --> 00:26:59,480
this kind of escape, too narrow and extremely old, but

343
00:26:59,559 --> 00:27:06,559
I didn't care. I just needed to get above level seven. Eventually,

344
00:27:07,079 --> 00:27:10,079
the tunnel curved and connected to a collapsed service hall

345
00:27:10,440 --> 00:27:13,400
at the back end of level six. I had to

346
00:27:13,400 --> 00:27:17,359
crawl over the rubble that had caved in earlier. My

347
00:27:17,480 --> 00:27:22,680
legs scraped against rebar and broken stone. Every movement felt

348
00:27:22,720 --> 00:27:30,599
harsh in my body. That's when everything tilted. I felt

349
00:27:30,599 --> 00:27:41,079
something shift in my head. When I woke up, I

350
00:27:41,160 --> 00:27:44,880
was in the infirmary on level one. The lights were

351
00:27:44,880 --> 00:27:49,720
too bright and everything smelled like bleach. My throat was dry,

352
00:27:50,160 --> 00:27:53,039
and someone had shaved part of my scalp for electrodes.

353
00:27:54,079 --> 00:27:57,119
The medic didn't say much, just clipped a monitor to

354
00:27:57,160 --> 00:28:01,640
my finger and asked if I felt nauseous. His tone

355
00:28:01,720 --> 00:28:06,519
was practiced flat, like I was a routine checkup, as

356
00:28:06,559 --> 00:28:11,240
if nothing unusual had happened. I asked, what happened to

357
00:28:11,279 --> 00:28:17,319
the others. He said, I must be confused the service shaft.

358
00:28:17,880 --> 00:28:20,559
I said, we took the one near the pump station,

359
00:28:20,680 --> 00:28:25,920
as the supervisor said that was the way out. The

360
00:28:26,000 --> 00:28:30,559
menic didn't even look up, just said there were no

361
00:28:30,759 --> 00:28:35,680
orders given over the radio. That channel's been dead for days.

362
00:28:36,880 --> 00:28:40,240
I didn't say anything after that, just let him finish

363
00:28:40,279 --> 00:28:44,559
what he was doing. But I couldn't stop thinking about it.

364
00:28:45,559 --> 00:28:47,759
The calm in the voice that told us which way

365
00:28:47,799 --> 00:28:51,400
to go, the exact timing of the tremors, and the

366
00:28:51,440 --> 00:28:54,359
fact that the radio hadn't crackled or cut out like

367
00:28:54,440 --> 00:28:58,680
the others. How stupid we were to just follow the

368
00:28:58,720 --> 00:29:04,039
commands without questions. They said I'd been unconscious for five days,

369
00:29:04,680 --> 00:29:09,640
long enough that they'd already processed my dismissal. I went

370
00:29:09,680 --> 00:29:14,400
home like nothing had happened. I followed their itinerary, bordered

371
00:29:14,400 --> 00:29:17,480
the plane and tried not to think about what I'd seen.

372
00:29:18,960 --> 00:29:22,519
I didn't remember going through the terminal. I barely remember

373
00:29:22,559 --> 00:29:27,119
the flight, everything between the infirmary, and my front door

374
00:29:27,680 --> 00:29:33,240
felt dull, like I was moving through underwater. The next

375
00:29:33,359 --> 00:29:38,519
day the deposit hit and I received double hazard pay.

376
00:29:39,519 --> 00:29:46,079
As if that squared the books. I haven't slept through

377
00:29:46,119 --> 00:29:51,599
the night since. The dreams are always the same, that soft,

378
00:29:51,799 --> 00:29:55,640
flexing pressure of walls that breathe, the taste of metal

379
00:29:55,759 --> 00:30:00,799
and sick in the back of my throat, sometimes from above.

380
00:30:01,640 --> 00:30:06,839
Other times I'm crawling. Since I returned, I've been waking

381
00:30:06,920 --> 00:30:10,039
up to find dirt under my finger nails and I

382
00:30:10,079 --> 00:30:14,119
didn't know how it got there. Then muder my slippers,

383
00:30:14,720 --> 00:30:20,079
and eventually there were calluses in my palms. Turns out

384
00:30:21,440 --> 00:30:26,720
I'm digging back yard mostly. Then it was the patch

385
00:30:26,759 --> 00:30:29,880
of dirt in the alley behind my apartment, and at

386
00:30:29,880 --> 00:30:34,240
one point I woke up in a drainage stitch places

387
00:30:34,359 --> 00:30:38,680
I shouldn't have been. I don't remember walking out there,

388
00:30:39,599 --> 00:30:42,039
but I always wake up near a pit with raw

389
00:30:42,319 --> 00:30:47,480
and blooded hands and dirt packed tight under my nails.

390
00:30:48,000 --> 00:30:52,920
It was never the same hole. I called the guy

391
00:30:52,960 --> 00:30:55,319
who got me the job to ask him what the

392
00:30:55,359 --> 00:30:58,000
hell kind of thing he dragged me into and whether

393
00:30:58,039 --> 00:31:01,720
he was digging too, But his voice on the other

394
00:31:01,880 --> 00:31:07,319
end was flat confused. He didn't sound tired or haunted

395
00:31:07,519 --> 00:31:12,400
like I was. Oh, I never gave him your name,

396
00:31:13,039 --> 00:31:16,240
he said. I meant to. I drew Ino pulled up

397
00:31:16,240 --> 00:31:20,759
and everything, but I got distracted and forgot. The job

398
00:31:20,799 --> 00:31:23,960
I was going to recommend was a Nevada warehouse gig,

399
00:31:24,240 --> 00:31:31,079
graveyard shift, but good pay. I swear I never passed

400
00:31:31,119 --> 00:31:31,319
it on