Lochview Lodge did not make hires impulsively. Its procedure was as smooth and calm as the experience it offered. Seven days following Devon's encounter with Felisca he found himself in a quiet office, within the lodge's administrative section sitting opposite a man called Rex Ralph.
Rex donned the Somnum attire composed of premium neutral shades. His manner was unthreatening, yet deeply competent. He examined Devon's constructed resume—a record of maintenance roles stretches, without work a subdued existence lacking drive or relationships.
"Mr. Duncan. Your references are… limited " Rex remarked, his tone neutral. "Considerable intervals."
"Discovered things to occupy my time " Devon replied, infusing a well-rehearsed indifference into his voice. "Nothing ever really held my interest."
Rex's gaze briefly showed what could be interpreted as approval. "It's an insight everyone reaches eventually. We appreciate that awareness here. Visitors come believing that 'holding on' is the aim. We assist them in releasing that notion." He shut the file. "The position involves grounds maintenance and routine facility care. Mostly night hours. Since our guests' experience demands interruption during the day you'd encounter very few individuals. Would that be suitable?"
"Seems quiet " Devon remarked.
"It's the silent spot on the planet " Rex answered and it didn't come across as an exaggeration. It felt like a standard, for quality control.
Devon secured the position.
For three evenings his environment consisted of the aroma of pine- sanitizer, the drone of HVAC units and the gentle illumination of pathway lights guiding the way to solitary meditation pods. He cleared bins filled with biodegradable wipes and vacant ceramic cups once holding a fragrant anise-scented tea. He observed visitors from afar—shadows, behind frosted pod glass or individuals walking in single file toward their rooms after a "session " their movements coordinated and serene.
The silent Felisca existed within the boundaries. It was a void. A silence so profound it seemed to engulf, consuming noise, uncertainty and haste. Devon resisted a faint urge to simply curl up in a nook and allow his thoughts to fade away into it.
During the night his access card, which was limited to service zones and storage cabinets did not work on a door labeled "HVAC Control – Authorized Personnel." A gentle green indicator light next, to the handle shone constantly. Acting on an impulse driven by tiredness and irritation he slid his card not on the reader but through the beam of the green light.
For a fraction of a nanosecond the light blinked red. The door unlatch, with a silent click.
His heart pounded a time a sharp unfamiliar noise, in the overwhelming stillness. That was intentional. It was a workaround. Ben's doing.
Inside was a small, cold room of humming servers and conduits. And a person.
She crouched amid two server racks, a woman clad in a Somnum lab coat trembling. Her eyes, large, with a fear that felt strange in this haven of quiet fixed on his. She gripped a data drive with knuckled intensity.
"You're the janitor " she murmured, her voice faltering. "Baldric's guy."
Devon gave a nod raising his hands. "Devon."
"Veronica. Veronica Vigdis." That name held significance. A survivor of the Geneva conjunction. Her complexion was pale troubled not by lingering shadows. By a recent pressing terror. "I was employed by them. In research and development. Behavioral integration."
"Why are you concealed inside a server room?"
A single tear slid down her cheek in a streak. "Because at last I examined what I was merging." She pushed the data drive in his direction. "It's not about wellness. Not even about peace. It's… it's cleansing. The Protocol, the Calculus… they act like a plough. It turns over the mind. It shatters all the unyielding roots of individual desire. Ambition, passion, anxiety—they're merely weeds, to it."
Devon grabbed the drive its shell feeling chilly. "Tills it for what?"
"For sowing!" The murmur was urgent. "Can't you understand? A vacant peaceful field holds no value. Yet a field flawlessly arranged… that's property. Mental prime property." She clasped her arms around herself gently swaying. "Stage Two doesn't appear in the pamphlets. After the soothing settles after the 'self' grows silent… that's when they present the customized proposals. Not counseling. Brand implantation. Delicate, continuous embraced due to the absence of sounds. A liking for Somnum-associated goods. Confidence in Somnum-selected news. A political indifference that conveniently matches simplicity, for Somnum. They aren't marketing tranquility. They're offering premium, empty mental space to the corporate offerers!
The vastness of it stopped Devon's breathing. He recalled Elara Vance, with her cleaner. Satisfied because the idea of desiring another cleaner had been quietly erased. He reflected on the advertisements, the "peaceful promise." It wasn't a conclusion. It was an introduction. They were shaping a realm of flawless, programmable shoppers. Not merely inactive.. Ready, for commands.
"Do you have evidence?" he inquired his tone lowered.
"During that trip. Neural mappings before and after implantation. Internal documents, about '-Calming income sources.' Collaboration offers with… with soda companies, Devon. They're debating which flavor notes 'connect' most with a mind." She released a noise bordering on laughter. "They transformed a demon's calculus into a damn market analysis instrument."
Footsteps echoed in the corridor, beyond light-soled yet resolute. Two sets. Security.
Veronica's eyes brimmed with terror. "They realized I had entered the core files. They're on their way. You must get that out."
"Join me " Devon said, taking hold of her arm.
She rapidly shook her head retreating. "I'm flagged. All exits will lock.. You're a ghost. Maintenance. You can move." She shoved him toward a vent grate at the back of the room. "This goes to the chute then outside. Go!"
He paused a moment. The footsteps ceased at the door. A keycard scanner beeped.
Devon slipped into the vents closing the grate behind him just as the front door swung open. He caught the sound of Rex Ralph's disheartened tone.
"Veronica. You have broken the quiet."
Next a gentler yet more eerie noise: the faint sound of a syringe's cap being taken off. Veronica's abrupt swiftly stifled gasp. A quiet thump, as a body fell to the ground.
No struggle. Just efficient reclamation.
Devon crept through the darkness the data drive clenched like an ember in his hand. He obeyed Veronica's guidance plunging down a chute into a bin filled with moist towels then sneaking out a service door into the chilly Highland night.
From a ridge overlooking the lodge he glanced back. Lights emitted a gentle glow. A lone silhouette— Rex—was, on a balcony gazing into the darkness. Not seeking anything. Simply waiting, assured that the quiet would absorb every disruption.
Devon's phone, hidden within his gear contained a message, from Ben. Extraction spot: Felisca's. Escape.
He fled. Not away from chase. From the stillness. From the realization that the conflict was harsher more strategic than he had thought. They weren't merely cultivating indifference. They were readying the ground of awareness for reaping.. They had just removed a weed, from their garden.
In his pocket, the data drive held not just evidence of a crime, but a blueprint for a new kind of human being: vacant, peaceful, and ready to be sold a dream so gently they'd never know they'd bought it.