The building had a room that once used for some kind of explosive tests.

It had walls several feet thick and made of concrete.

We used it to confine our ancient printer.

The fluorescent finished flickering and came to life as the printer screamed and belched a cloud of black toner.

The constant rub of disused metal on metal.

It sat in the dim light and coughed out page after page all the while screaming and groaning.

It came to a shuddering halt and bleeped in distress that it had a paper jam.

I approached it cautiously, and carefully opened it’s front.

I could just see the corner of the white page peeking out from the very back of it’s black maw.

I carefully reach in and grab hold of the visible corner.

I tear the paper free as quick as I can, and a sharp piece of metal slams shut, nicking the back of my hand.

I slam the printer shut and it rumbles back to life.

A few drops of blood fall on the floor, it’s getting quicker, and hungrier.