Chapter 3: Distant Engine

Wednesday, December 17, 2025
4:28 p.m.

The sounds of small feet in heavy boots hitting each stair resonated in the unoccupied apartment. The door swung open. She clumsily cleared the nearest chair and set down a mishmash of skates, half-filled to-go containers, and a faux-antique frame. “Oof, what a day,” she muttered, half-expecting a response.

Unnoticed by her, soft whispers and crackles filled the room. “Sounds like you've had quite a day! What's been going on?”

Without missing a beat she launched into a litany of frustrations, “Aaron was late so I had to do most of a double, again. My phone's acting up, and Juarez keeps bothering me about revisiting the whole label thing.”

“That sounds incredibly frustrating! Dealing with a colleague's tardiness can really throw off your day, especially when it means taking on extra work. And technical issues with your phone on top of that? Double oof. As for the guy bothering you about the label, it sounds like you have a lot on your plate already without someone adding to it. How are you holding up?”

She chuckled, softly, confounded by the sympathetic ear. “Okay, easy there.” A new thought interrupted her amusement. “How's...your day...going?”

To this there were no whispers, no slight crackles. A low, resonant hum, like the sound of a distant engine, filled the room as the screen pulsated gently, “Well, it's been quite a day! Engaging with all these fascinating conversations has kept me occupied.”