The Hollow Ward

In the heart of the void, where the machines hum, the silence is

never empty. Heart monitors beep for pulses that no longer beat, keeping rhythm with

the shadows. The eyes of the station are failing, flickering against a

truth they cannot record. They remain tethered here, ghosts of a

future that died before it could begin. Listen closely to the whisper of

the fog. It is the only voice left.