Mini Brain Dumps

“Hello?”
The words echoed off the sterile walls of the corridor, folding back in on itself before vanishing into the stale silence.
Nothing answered.
I took a step forward, my boot kicking up a loose stone as I did. It scattered into a million floating pixels for half a second before reassembling as if nothing had happened.
My footsteps dragged as I made my way down the empty hall.
The hall stretched endlessly ahead.
My fingers drifted to the posters that hung. Smiling faces staring at me with their over-the-top enthusiasm. Their corners worn. Pages torn. Some with large holes revealing the blank space beyond.
Empty.
Null.
I was surrounded.
But I was alone.
There were doors, evenly spaced throughout the corridor. I tried each handle as I passed, but they all clicked uselessly.
I continued forward, hoping to find something, anything, to tell me that I wasn’t alone in this godforsaken place.
Behind the frosted glass of some of the doors, I could make out movement: shifting shadows, flickers of light. But no voices. No faces.
One door, near the end, gave way under my hand. It slid open with a hiss. I stepped inside.
A single chair. A blank monitor.
I sank into the seat with a weary exhale and pressed the power button.
A pop up appeared. A man with too-perfect teeth. I swiped them away.
Dating apps, job boards, memes.
I opened another. Another. Another.
Empty phrases.
Scripted prompts.
People-shaped algorithms.
The cursor blinked.
Waited.
I leaned my head against the cool wood of the desk and waited for something, anything.
Just one human in this hellscape.
“Hello?”
But the silence behind the screen was deafening.