By Mike Moriarty
I had stared at the red button in the center of the console for years. Other technicians had come and gone, and none could, or would, tell me its true purpose. But there it sat, and here I sat, waiting for the other to do something.
Greg had been here before me. Surely he would know. “Couldn’t tell you,” he said. “I was born here same as you, and in all that time it’s never been pushed.”
Shifting the chains on my hands, I reached out. Pushed it. And now I know; it just keeps me here. Forever in these chains.
this was so good that it reminded my of jorge luis borges; such a dark story