Are you ready to go away for the long one?
The Hoover's eyes pierce my neck as we watch a video of different wild animals-- a lynx, a horse, and a weasel type thing-- pose and change position in front of a snowy landscape, their features blending into the background as the sun hits different parts of their faces.
I'm mesmerized and want to watch the loop again, but look over to answer.
Soon. Not yet.
He smiles and smells like he knows.
I've said the right thing. Another win for me. It’s surprising how quickly I’ve integrated with his friend group.
This hotel is lovely, historic. Once a long forgotten school building, the interior has been ravaged, refurbished, and transmuted into modern elegance. If you only saw the inside you couldn’t even tell this was ever a public phrontistery the city let rot. Long hallways have been converted to swimming pools, classrooms split up into lush little guestrooms and community dens with computers and TV screens like where we stand now.
And the subbasements. The real draw.
A modified form of spelunking indoors, a funhouse maze down a series of staircases where each level becomes narrower, ceilings lower, the further you descend. Not for the easily panicked. Like cave diving, the key to making it all the way through and finding your way out is to stay calm. Losing your cool could mean getting stuck down there permanently. Without the change happening first.
I've only gotten as far as the foam room, maybe five levels down. Superficial progress. There's much more to explore beneath that, or so I've heard from the Hoover and his friends.
The foam room is what it sounds like: tight quarters coated in a pillowy material with large polyurethane objects strewn about as extemporary furniture. Or perhaps as obstacles. Hiding places. A faint reek of must filled my nose and my mouth upon entering, like an old sofa in a damp front room where there’s never an open window. Dim glow from naked fluorescent tube bulbs overhead rendered the space in pea soup green.
The previous levels had all been relatively easy to navigate. The adequate lighting and obvious pathways left me a bit overconfident and practically set me up for disaster. After climbing over dozens of large spongey pieces and searching around the walls and floors on my hands and knees for what felt like hours, I was unable to locate either staircase. Forget pushing onward. I had no way to get back where I came from.
That’s when worry and trepidation set in. I started yelling for help, clawed at the walls. Everything was heavier. The air was thick with mold and metal.
Maybe I was hallucinating, but I gave up and froze at the touch of a meaty hand on my back. It gripped the fabric of my sweater and worked its way up to my neck. Acid rushed in the back of my throat, bitter hot chunks of something I thought I'd digested. My vision faded and my head felt like it’d explode. I had to lie down, allow my blood to recirculate. The squishy floor opened its arms, melted and squeezed me gently to sleep.
When I opened my eyes I was back in my state room, curled like roadkill on the floor hugging my knees. The Hoover and his friend with the long hair sat at my breakfast table, looking down at me.
You’re almost there, the one with the long hair said.
The Hoover looked over at his friend. Hushed. You think she’s ready for the change?
I sat up and nodded.
Thanks for reading my little story. Was it creepy? Try playing the video below
in the background and reading it again. Apparently 18.98 hz is a low frequency that humans cannot hear audibly but can feel. It has been known to cause upsetting feelings like fear and anxiety, with recorded changes in blood pressure, respiratory rate, and balance for those who experience it.
this is awesome!