Elara woke to the sound of the door clicking shut.

For a moment, she thought she was dreaming. Then she saw Tessa by the mirror, pulling her hair into a ponytail, humming softly. Her uniform was already neatly pressed, and she had that bright, morning-sun kind of smile that Elara wasn’t sure she’d ever be capable of before coffee.

“Morning,” Elara mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

Tessa turned, grinning. “Good morning, sleepyhead. I was going to wake you, but you looked peaceful for once.”

“What time is it?”

“Seven forty-five.”

Elara groaned. “Why didn’t you—”

“I said you looked peaceful!” Tessa laughed, grabbing her clipboard from the nightstand. “Anyway, I’m heading to Ward Three. My favorite old lady awaits.”

“She’s your only patient,” Elara teased, still half under her blanket.

“Exactly. And she adores me.” Tessa winked and moved toward the door. “Wish me luck. She said yesterday she wanted to teach me bridge. I have no idea what that is.”

“Good luck,” Elara said, smiling.

Tessa’s grin softened. “You okay?”

Elara nodded. “Yeah. Just a little tired.”

“Don’t work too hard in the office, Miss Paperwork.”

Elara threw a pillow at her, laughing. “Get out.”

The pillow hit the closing door as Tessa’s laughter echoed faintly down the hallway.

When Elara turned, she caught sight of Naomi’s bed — perfectly made, untouched. Her shoes were gone.

She hadn’t said a single word all weekend, and now it was like she’d vanished.

Elara frowned, brushing it off. Naomi was probably just assigned to a new ward or an early shift. That was all.

---

The operations office smelled faintly of paper and coffee when Elara walked in. Kendra was already there, typing quickly, her hair tied in a messy bun.

“Morning,” Elara greeted.

“Hey,” Kendra said without looking up. “sleep well?"

“Nope.”

“Good. That’s the spirit.”

Elara smiled, sliding into her seat. “Is Room Nine’s patient here yet?”

Kendra shook her head. “Not yet. Should be tomorrow morning.”

Elara nodded. “Do we know anything about him?”

“Not a word. And trust me, don’t ask.”

“I wasn’t—”

Kendra gave her a look. “Curiosity’s the quickest way to disappear around here.”

Elara froze for a second, unsure if that was a joke. Then she laughed lightly, but Kendra didn’t join her.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy, but it was sharp — like there were words that didn’t belong spoken aloud.

Elara clicked open her computer, diving into patient logs. She worked quietly, entering dates and sorting charts, trying not to let her thoughts wander back to the golden door marked 9.

The hum of computers filled the air.

After a while, Kendra muttered something under her breath about the system lagging. Elara turned, smiling. “I think the network hates you.”

“It hates everyone.”

They both laughed softly — and then a voice burst from the speaker above them.

“Quiet in the operations office.”

Elara’s fingers froze over her keyboard.

The voice was flat, automated — neither male nor female, with no trace of emotion. Just mechanical control.

Kendra didn’t even flinch. She simply went back to typing.

Elara’s heart thudded. “Did that—did that come from—?”

“The speaker,” Kendra said, still working.

“Someone’s… listening?”

Kendra shrugged. “Always.”

Elara stared at the small black device mounted near the ceiling. It looked ordinary, just a round grille of metal and plastic. But now, under the fluorescent light, it felt sinister — like an eye.

Kendra didn’t seem fazed at all.

Elara forced herself to keep working, but the unease lingered. After a while, she distracted herself by opening the staff profile database.

Mostly, it was harmless: names, ID photos, and assignment lists.

She scrolled through familiar faces — nurses she’d met in training, others she hadn’t. When she reached Tessa’s profile, she smiled. There was a line that read: “Ward 3 – Long-term psychiatric care. Patient: Evelyn Brooks.”

"Oh? The famous Evelyn Brooks" Elara mummured quietly under her breath.

Then she clicked Naomi Lane.

Her smile faded.

Next to Naomi’s name was a bright yellow rectangle stamped across the page: UNDER REVIEW.

Elara frowned. “What does that mean?”

Kendra didn’t look up. “What does what mean?”

“This.” Elara turned the screen slightly. “Naomi Lane. It says she’s under review.”

For the first time that morning, Kendra stopped typing.

Her eyes flicked to the screen — then, in one quick motion, she reached over and switched off Elara’s computer.

The screen went black.

Elara blinked, startled. “Hey—what are you—”

Kendra turned to her, voice calm but sharp. “Listen to me, Elara. You want to survive here?”

Elara hesitated. “What?”

“Don’t be curious.”

“I was just—”

“I’m serious.” Kendra’s tone dropped lower. “This place isn’t like the hospitals you’ve worked in before. You don’t ask questions here. You don’t snoop. You follow orders, smile when spoken to, and go home in one piece.”

Elara stared at her, confusion flooding in. “Why are you saying this? What’s wrong with being curious?”

Kendra gave a short, humorless laugh. “Curious people stop showing up to work.”

The words hung between them like smoke.

Elara tried to read her face, but Kendra had already turned back to her own computer, as if the conversation had never happened.

The seconds ticked by slowly.

Then the lunch alarm went off — a single chime followed by a robotic voice announcing: “Midday break. Staff rotation begins in ten minutes.”

Elara stood up, dazed.

Kendra didn’t look at her. “Go eat. Don’t be late.”

Elara nodded faintly, her mind still replaying that phrase — curious people stop showing up.

As she stepped out of the office, she felt the eyes of the security cameras follow her.

Somewhere above, a speaker crackled softly — the sound of static that might’ve been silence.

Or might’ve been someone listening.