One early morning, a new face showed up around the containment sector. He was dressed in a pine-colored jumpsuit, sporting its sleeves rolled up unevenly. His chin-length pastel hair was unkempt, his long bangs hiding a friendly doe-eyed face. As he walked along the connecting ramps, he was pushing along a cart of cleaning supplies that he took with him inside of some of the lower containment cells where the inanimate objects were located. Each time he needed to go up a level, he used the platform interconnecting them that seemed to have been put in place purely for maintenance work; it resembled a window-washing lift and was about just as fickle as one too. Looking past the barrier only reminded him that it was the only thing keeping him from falling into the abyss below.
“They can’t pay me enough,” he grumbled to himself as he gathered up a clean washcloth and his to-do list from his cart. His next stop? The mezzanine. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he stepped onto solid ground, but that’s about when the relief ended because he didn’t have to walk too far until he reached his destination. “L2-12... Did I pass it by?” he wondered, glancing up from his clipboard in search of the correct number painted on the wall.
@eeriestatic
