Rows without memory.
Light that never changes.
A room built to repeat itself
until nothing inside it needs to think.

Every desk already knows its purpose.
Every chair waits without expectation.
There is no beginning here,
only continuation.

Then—
something sits where nothing should.

Not breaking the order,
not resisting it,
just occupying the space
too precisely.

The system does not react.
It absorbs.

And what was once empty
becomes
something quieter,
and harder to erase.