I knocked on the door. Nothing. I knocked again, and the nothing continued, uninterrupted.

“Hello?” called. Only silence answered.

I turned the handle and walked in. The room was dark – the lights were off, the curtains were pulled, it was pretty grim. I flicked the light switch and, in accordance with every single horror movie I have ever seen, it utterly failed to turn on. Great, I thought. The Controller is a vampire, or a werewolf, or Jason or something.

Despite feeling like I had stepped into a Wes Craven film, I continued to walk into the office, slowly and deliberately, towards the desk. The chair faced the closed windows, away from me. My palms began to moisten. In the back of my head, that music from “Psycho” began to play.

Nervously, I reached my hand out to the chair and slowly, very slowly, turned it around.

It was empty. And dusty. In fact now my eyes had adjusted to the dark I could see the entire office was very dusty. This room hadn’t been used for years.

What was going on?

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