The air tastes like dry marble.
For a moment I think the pressure is the center of everything.
The clamp.
The circulation.
The vibration trapped inside the tissue.
But I begin to suspect I was wrong.
Because I am no longer paying attention to the pain.
I am paying attention to the record.
There is something strange about the record.
It always ends the same way.
The same sequence.
The same sentence.
I have to move my neck.
I am not moving it.
I wait for it.
It does not appear.
I keep reading.
Nothing.
For the first time, it is missing.
And that is the first thing that worries me.
Not the absence of pressure.
Not the absence of relief.
The absence of the sentence.
I scroll through the document.
Then a new line appears.
It was not there before.
“You noticed it was missing.”
I freeze.
The sentence remains on the screen.
I do not remember reading it.
A second line appears a few seconds later.
“Observation time: 41 minutes.”
I check the clock.
I have only been here sixteen.
I close the file.
The folder remains open.
But it no longer has the same name.
A moment ago it was called:
“Microphysics of Pressure.”
Now it is called:
“Phase Two.”
I open the folder.
There is only one file inside.
I do not remember seeing it before.
Its name is:
“BEFORE READING THIS”
I open it.
There is a screenshot.
My desktop.
My window.
My document.
My cursor.
Everything matches.
Except for one detail.
In the screenshot there is a line that does not yet exist on my screen.
I read it.
“You are about to check the file creation date.”
I do not want to do it.
I check the date.
The date is tomorrow.
A note appears underneath.
It was not there before.
“You have stopped reading about the system.”
The next line takes a few more seconds to appear.
“Now the system is reading how you react.”
I have to move my neck I am not moving it I should…
