Chapter 1 The Routine

The alarm's shrill cry pierced the darkness at 5:30 AM. Arris' eyes snapped open, bloodshot and burning, his hand already moving to silence the noise. He lay still for a moment, breathing deeply, feeling the weight of existence settling onto his chest like an unwelcome guest.

Chirp. Another day. Swipe. Click. Here we go again. Thoughts cascade through my mind, shards of glass cutting through the fog of sleep. Each one a reminder of the monotony ahead, the endless cycle of calls and complaints. Eighty voices waiting to chip away at my sanity. Eighty opportunities for something to crack, for the darkness lurking beneath my skin to seep out.

A soft groan escaped him as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. The floorboards creaked under his feet as he made his way through the darkness, muscle memory guiding him through the familiar space.
The bathroom mirror revealed a face Arris barely recognized. Dark circles underlined his eyes, and his skin had taken on an unhealthy pallor. Faint lines, like shadowy tributaries, seemed to pulse just beneath the surface of his skin.

Look at yourself. Pale, drawn, a husk of a human being. Those veins... are they darker today? No, impossible. Just tricks of the light, of a mind frayed by monotony. But what if... No. Focus. Routine. Safety in the known, in the repeated.

The shower lasted exactly four minutes, a scalding baptism that did little to wash away the dread of the day ahead. As steam filled the small space, Arris closed his eyes, his mind dissecting the day ahead with surgical precision.

Eighty calls. Eighty masks to don. Eighty times to utter the cursed mantra: "Thank you for calling Pulse Telecom, my name is Arris, how can I help you?" The words echo in my mind, each repetition a nail in the coffin of my individuality. How many times can a man die in one day? Eighty, apparently. And then he wakes up to do it all over again.

After dressing in a crisp white shirt that seemed to leach what little color remained in his skin and dark slacks that felt like shackles around his legs, Arris moved to the kitchen. The coffee maker gurgled to life, a mechanical heart pumping out liquid vitality.

While it worked, he attended to the only task that offered a glimmer of something other than resigned despair. The spare room, a sanctuary of sorts, housed rows of terrariums lining the walls, reliquaries of some obscure, reptilian faith. The soft glow of heat lamps cast an amber pall, illuminating scales and exoskeletons.
"Good morning," Arris murmured, his voice softer than it would be all day. He moved from tank to tank with reverent care, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. This room, this sanctuary of scales and exoskeletons, was the one place where the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift, if only for a moment. He started with the tarantulas, their terrariums arranged in a neat row. "Hello, Nyx," he whispered to the Mexican Red Knee, watching as she slowly emerged from her hide, legs moving with deliberate grace. Next was Morpheus, the curly-haired tarantula, its body a mass of golden-brown curls. It remained motionless, but Arris knew it was alert, sensing his presence. Moving on, he checked on Flicker, the leopard gecko. "Hungry this morning, aren't we?" Arris chuckled as the gecko's tongue flicked out, tasting the air with undisguised interest. He sprinkled a few crickets into the enclosure, watching with quiet joy as Flicker's eyes locked onto the prey, his whole body tensing in anticipation of the hunt.In the largest tank, Ouroboros the ball python uncoiled with sinuous grace. "There's my beautiful girl," Arris cooed, his fingers tracing the glass as Ouroboros followed the movement. Her scales shimmered in the soft light, a mesmerizing pattern of earth tones that never failed to captivate him. As she raised her head, eyes fixing on Arris, he felt a connection that transcended species. In that gaze, he saw neither judgment nor demand, only a simple, accepting presence.Last but not least, he moved to the corner where Draco's bearded dragon enclosure sat. "Good morning, you spiky pancake," Arris said fondly, watching as Draco bobbed his head in what seemed like greeting. The lizard scurried to the front of the tank, pressing his belly against the warm glass, soaking up the heat from the lamp above. Arris took his time, checking water levels, adjusting temperatures, and ensuring each habitat was clean and comfortable. He spritzed the tarantula enclosures lightly, watching droplets form on silk webs like morning dew. For Ouroboros, he refreshed the water bowl, making sure it was large enough for her to soak in if she wished. As he worked, Arris felt the tension in his body begin to unwind. Here, among these creatures that asked for nothing but basic care and offered silent companionship in return, he found a peace that eluded him in the human world. They didn't care about quotas or customer satisfaction surveys. They didn't demand explanations for things beyond their comprehension. They simply existed, and in doing so, reminded Arris of a simpler way of being.

These creatures, in their beautiful simplicity, ask nothing of me but the essentials. They don't demand explanations about the inexplicable, don't complain about the vagaries of existence. In their presence, the anxious knot in my chest loosens, if only for a moment. These creatures depend on me, yes, but they also give me something in return. A purpose. A moment of calm in the storm of existence. Is this what it feels like to be truly needed, truly appreciated? In this room, I'm not a corporate drone or a faceless voice on the phone. I'm a caretaker, a provider.

With reluctance, Arris glanced at his watch. Time, that ever-present taskmaster, was ticking away. He had to leave soon, had to re-enter the world of deadlines and demands. But for now, for these few precious minutes, he allowed himself to simply be, surrounded by the quiet rustling of his unusual family."


The coffee maker beeped, dragging Arris back to reality. He poured the steaming liquid into a travel mug, no cream, no sugar. Bitterness to sharpen focus, another small pain to keep him tethered to the waking world.
At 6:00 AM, Arris locked the apartment door behind him, the click of the deadbolt sounding like the closing of a cell. The city was stirring, a beast slowly waking from uneasy slumber. Early risers hurried past, eyes glazed and fixed forward, clutching travel mugs like talismans against the encroaching day.

Look at them all, fellow prisoners of routine. Do they feel it too? The crushing weight of sameness, day after day? Or am I alone in this private hell, cursed with awareness in a world of blissful automatons?

His sedan started on the first try, a small mercy in a world increasingly bereft of them. As he pulled out of the lot and merged into the steadily increasing flow of traffic, Arris kept the radio off, preferring the relative quiet to mentally rehearse opening lines and steel himself for the onslaught of voices that would soon fill his ears.
The sky transformed as he drove, from inky black to deep blue to sickly lavender. Arris watched the metamorphosis with detached interest, his mind already at his desk, already fielding calls, already counting down the seconds until he could return to the sanctuary of his apartment and his pets. The horizon bled red, as if the day itself was wounded before it had even truly begun.

Another day dawns, bleeding across the sky. Is it a portent? A warning? Or just the indifferent rotation of a planet that cares nothing for the insignificant lives scurrying upon its surface? The sun rises, we toil, it sets. Repeat ad nauseam. Until what? Until when? Is there an end to this, or just an endless cycle of meaningless days?

The call center loomed ahead, a nondescript building that managed to look both mundane and deeply sinister. Arris pulled into his usual parking spot at 7:25 AM, five minutes before his shift was set to begin. He took a final swig of coffee, the bitter dregs coating his tongue like ash.
Grabbing his ID badge, a technoplastic collar marking him as just another cog in the great machine, Arris stepped out of the car. He squared his shoulders and walked toward the building, unaware that today, finally, the darkness that had long dwelled beneath his skin would begin to seep out, staining the world around him in shades of shadow and possibility.

Another day begins. The familiar weight settles on my shoulders as I approach the building. Will today be any different? Probably not. But perhaps that's for the best. After all, routine is safe. Predictable. And yet... why does it feel like I'm slowly suffocating?

The automatic doors parted with a hiss, exhaling stale air redolent with desperation and cheap coffee. Arris stepped inside, feeling the building swallow him whole. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting their sickly pallor over everything and everyone. Faces turned briefly, wan and drawn, before snapping back to screens as if afraid to catch some contagion of discontent.

Gray partitions stretch out before me, a labyrinth designed not to confound, but to crush. Each step heavier than the last, dragging me deeper into this pit of corporate despair. How many souls have withered here, trapped in the maze of monotony?

Arris moved through the maze of cubicles, nodding curtly to colleagues whose features seemed as unremarkable and interchangeable as the fabric walls. In this place, individuality was a luxury none could afford.
His workspace was a study in corporate minimalism. A company-issued computer sat on the desk, its screen a blank void waiting to be filled with complaints and queries. The headset lay next to it, an umbilical cord that would soon connect him to the outside world, feeding him a steady diet of frustration and ire.

Another day, another battle against the void. Will today be the day I finally crack? Or just another in an endless series of indistinguishable torments? The headset stares at me, a plastic parasite waiting to latch onto my brain and suck out whatever humanity remains.

A single framed photo stood on the desk, depicting a Brazilian salmon pink tarantula. Its eight eyes stared out, unblinking and unjudging. Sometimes Arris wondered if it saw more than he did, despite being trapped in frozen time.
He settled into the chair, its creak a mournful song of plastic and metal. 7:29 AM. One minute of sanctuary remained. Arris closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and centered himself. His face settled into a mask of calm professionalism, a facade as fragile as it was necessary.

Sixty seconds of freedom. What a joke. Even now, I can feel the tendrils of work wrapping around my mind, squeezing out any thoughts not related to call times and customer satisfaction. But beneath it all, something else stirs. A darkness, a pressure building behind my eyes. What is it? What's changing?

7:30 AM. The headset chirped. Arris' finger moved to accept the call, muscle memory taking over. For a fraction of a second, he hesitated.

A part of me screams to reject, to rip off the headset, to run. But the moment passes, unacknowledged. The routine demands to be fed. And I, its willing slave, obey.

Chirp. Another call. Swipe. Click. Here we go again.
"Thank you for calling Pulse Telecom Billing Department. My name is Arris. How can I help you today?" The words flowed automatically, a well-worn script that required no thought.
"Yeah, hi," a sharp voice cut through the line. "I'm looking at my bill, and it's way higher than it should be. Again."
Arris suppressed a sigh. Karen Winters, account number 78529. Three billing disputes in the last six months, all resolved in the company's favor. "I understand your concern, Ms. Winters. Can you tell me which charges specifically look incorrect to you?"
"All of them! Your service is crap, and you're charging me premium prices for it. I want a discount."

Here we go. The old 'service is bad, give me free stuff' routine.

"I'm sorry you're unsatisfied with the service, Ms. Winters. Let's go through the charges one by one, and I can explain-"
"Explain? I don't need you to explain, I need you to fix it! Do you know how long I've been a customer?"
Arris felt a flicker of irritation. "Yes, Ms. Winters. You've been with us for seven years. However, loyalty doesn't automatically-"
"Seven years of overpaying for subpar service! I should just cancel and go to your competitor."
Something snapped in Arris. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them: "Then by all means, Ms. Winters, feel free to do so. I'm sure Horizon Telecom would be delighted to have such a... valued customer."
A beat of silence. Arris blinked, surprised at his own directness.

Did I really just say that?

"I... what?" Ms. Winters sputtered. "You can't talk to me like that! I want to speak to your manager!"
Arris should have felt panic. Instead, a strange calm washed over him. "Ms. Winters, escalating this call won't change the fact that your charges are correct. Now, would you like me to review them with you, or shall we proceed with cancelling your service?"
Another pause. When Ms. Winters spoke again, her tone had shifted. "No, I... I guess we can review the charges."
As Arris guided her through the bill, he felt oddly energized. His usual script was gone, replaced by concise, no-nonsense explanations. To his surprise, Ms. Winters offered little resistance.
The call ended with no discounts given, but with Ms. Winters agreeing to a more suitable plan for her usage. As Arris disconnected, he stared at his hands, a slight tremor running through them.
He shook his head, trying to clear the odd buzzing sensation that had taken up residence behind his eyes. Probably just the adrenaline from an unusual call.

"Tough one, huh?"
Arris started at the voice, looking up to see Lila leaning against his cubicle wall. Her dark eyes were warm with sympathy, a stark contrast to the cool blues and grays of the office. For a moment, just a moment, Arris thought he sensed something else emanating from her. Concern? Unease?
"You could say that," he muttered, rubbing his temples. A dull ache had begun to throb behind his eyes, accompanied by a strange buzzing sensation. He glanced at the clock. 12:30 PM. Break time.
As Arris stood to follow Lila to the break room, he felt... different. The world around him seemed slightly off-kilter, colors a shade duller, sounds a touch sharper. But within him, something stirred, alive and hungry for more.
"You okay?" Lila asked as they walked. "You look a bit pale."
Arris nodded, not trusting his voice. The break room chatter washed over him in waves, and he could have sworn he caught snippets of thoughts mixed in with the spoken words. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

What's happening to me? Everything feels... more. More intense, more vivid, more overwhelming.

The fifteen-minute break seemed to stretch and contract, time losing all meaning. Before he knew it, Arris was back at his desk, the familiar weight of the headset settling onto his head like a crown of thorns.
He sat rigidly in his chair, pale fingers hovering over the keyboard. The clock on his computer screen read 12:45 PM, each passing minute feeling like an eternity. The fluorescent lights flickered intermittently, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance at the edges of his vision.

Time crawls like a wounded animal, each second a struggle against the void. The shadows... they're growing, pulsing with each tick of the clock. Is it just me, or is the room getting darker?

Arris took a deep breath, centering himself as best he could. Whatever was happening, he still had a job to do. He had to maintain control, had to keep the mask in place. As the next call came in, he steeled himself, unaware that each interaction was pushing him further along a path from which there might be no return.
Chirp. Another call. Swipe. Click. Here we go again.
"Pulse Telecom Billing, this is Arris. How can I assist you today?" His tone was polite but clipped, efficiency replacing his former forced cheer.
"Yeah." a gruff voice responded. "I'm looking at my bill, and there's this 'network maintenance fee' that wasn't there before. What's that about?"
Arris pulled up the account. James Rollins, long-time customer, never late on payments. The new fee was legitimate, but poorly communicated to customers.
"I see, Mr. Rollins. The network maintenance fee is a new charge that helps us improve and maintain our infrastructure. It was mentioned in the notice sent with last month's bill."
"Notice? What notice? I never saw any notice!" Mr. Rollins's voice rose, frustration evident.
Arris felt a familiar stirring, a subtle warmth building in his chest. He could sense the man's anger, his feeling of being blindsided.
"I understand your frustration, Mr. Rollins," Arris said, his voice taking on a slightly compelling tone. "Many customers miss these notices. Why don't we go through your bill together? I might be able to find some savings to offset this new charge."
There was a pause, then a huffed, "Fine."
As Arris began reviewing the bill, he found himself oddly attuned to Mr. Rollins's emotions. The man's irritation was palpable, but beneath it lay concern about rising costs and a desire to feel heard. Arris absently rubbed his forearm, noticing it seemed slightly paler than usual.

I can almost see the thoughts forming in his mind. His worries, his needs... they're so clear. I could use this, guide the conversation exactly where I want it to go. Wait, what am I thinking? And why does my skin look... different?

"Mr. Rollins," Arris said, allowing a note of understanding to color his voice, "I notice you're on our standard plan, but your usage suggests our Flex60 plan might suit you better. It would actually save you about $15 a month, even with the new fee."
"Really?" The surprise in Mr. Rollins's voice was evident. "That... that would be good, yeah."
As Arris explained the details, he felt a subtle shift in the customer's mood. The anger was dissipating, replaced by cautious appreciation.

This is... interesting. I'm not just hearing his words, I'm feeling his emotions change. Is this normal? Or is something else happening here?

"Thank you," Mr. Rollins said as they wrapped up the call. "I appreciate you taking the time to find a better plan for me."
"Happy to help, Mr. Rollins. Is there anything else I can assist you with today?"
After the call ended, Arris sat back, a slight furrow in his brow. He felt oddly energized, but also unsettled. The ease with which he'd turned the conversation around, the way he'd seemed to know exactly what the customer needed to hear... it was both exhilarating and slightly terrifying.

That was different. Not just knowing what to say, but feeling what he felt. Is this just getting better at the job, or something more? Something's changing, but I can't put my finger on what.

Arris shook his head, trying to clear the strange buzzing sensation behind his eyes. He glanced at his reflection in the computer screen, noting with a mix of curiosity and unease that he looked a shade paler than usual. He had more calls to take, more customers to assist, but for the first time, he felt a flicker of anticipation rather than dread.

"Arris?" Lila's voice cut through his thoughts. She stood at the entrance to his cubicle, concern etched across her features. "Are you okay? You look... different."
Arris turned to face her, suddenly aware of a faint emotional undercurrent emanating from Lila - worry tinged with a hint of fear. The sensation was new, more vivid than before. For a moment, he considered reaching out further, probing deeper into her mind as he had unconsciously done with the customers. The temptation was almost overwhelming.

No. Not Lila. She's... she's real. Human. Not just a voice on the other end of the line. I can't... I won't...

"I'm fine," he said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Just a tough call. You know how it is."
Lila nodded, but her eyes remained wary. "Yeah, I know. Listen, a bunch of us are going out for drinks after work. Want to join? Might help take the edge off."
For a brief moment, Arris considered accepting. A night out, normal human interaction, a chance to forget the strange sensations growing within him. But even as the thought formed, he felt an unfamiliar pulse of energy, hungry and insistent.

I can't. It's not safe. I'm not safe. What if I lose control? What if this... whatever it is... reaches out, touches their minds? No. Better to be alone. Safer.

"Thanks, but I can't tonight," Arris said, turning back to his computer. "Maybe next time."
He felt Lila's gaze linger on him for a moment longer before she walked away. As she left, Arris experienced a bizarre sensation, as if tendrils of his consciousness followed her briefly before snapping back.
Disturbed, Arris caught a glimpse of his reflection in the computer screen. His eyes, usually a warm brown, now seemed darker, with tiny flecks of shadow swirling in their depths. The veins in his neck were more pronounced, a faint network of darkness spreading beneath his skin.

What's happening to me? These changes... they're not just in my head anymore.

The questions echoed in his mind as he prepared for the next call. The afternoon stretched ahead, each interaction now charged with new potential and hidden dangers.
As the day wore on, Arris found himself increasingly overwhelmed. The harsh fluorescent lights of the call center burned his sensitive eyes. The din of the office had taken on a new dimension - dozens of voices, all speaking at once, but now underlaid with whispers of thoughts and flickers of emotion. The raw, unfiltered essence of humanity laid bare before him.

So much noise. So many minds, all crying out at once. How did I never hear this before? And how do I make it stop?

Unable to bear it any longer, Arris retreated to the bathroom. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, shocked by what he saw. His skin, always pale, now had an almost translucent quality. The network of darkened veins beneath pulsed with an otherworldly rhythm. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, pulling it higher.

What am I becoming? These veins, this... ability... it's changing me. Changing everything. And I can't let anyone see. Can't let anyone know. The mask must stay in place, no matter the cost.

With trembling fingers, Arris buttoned his shirt all the way up, cinching the collar tight around his neck. He smoothed down the long sleeves, ensuring every inch of his arms was covered. The fabric felt suffocating, but it was necessary - a shield against prying eyes and uncomfortable questions.
As he exited the bathroom, he nearly collided with Lila.
"Arris?" Her voice cut through the chaos, a lifeline of normalcy in a sea of strangeness. "You okay? You've been in there a while."
He turned to face her, forcing his features into a mask of calm indifference. The concern radiating from her was almost palpable now. "Fine," he said, the word clipped and harsh. "Just needed a moment."
Lila's brow furrowed, worry etching lines across her forehead. "You sure? You seem... different lately. Is everything alright?"

She notices. Of course she notices. Lila always notices. But she can't know. Can't understand. It's not safe. I'm not safe.

"Everything's fine," Arris repeated, his voice softening slightly. He could feel something stirring within him, reaching out towards Lila's mind. It would be so easy to just... nudge her thoughts, erase her concerns. The temptation was almost overwhelming.

No. Not Lila. Never Lila. She deserves better than that.

With a curt nod, Arris brushed past her, heading back to his cubicle. He could feel Lila's gaze boring into his back, heavy with unasked questions and growing worry. But he didn't turn around. Couldn't turn around. The mask was already slipping, and he couldn't risk it falling away entirely.
As he sat down, bracing himself for the next call, Arris realized with a mix of excitement and terror that each interaction now presented not just a challenge, but an opportunity to explore these emerging abilities. The line between Arris and whatever he was becoming blurred a little more with each passing moment.

Chirp. Another call. Swipe. Click. Here we go again.
"Thank you for calling Pulse Telecom Billing Department. My name is Arris. How can I help you today?" The words flowed automatically, but Arris could hear a new undercurrent in his own voice, a subtle power that made him shiver.
As the caller launched into a tirade about hidden fees and corporate greed, Arris was overwhelmed by a sudden flood of emotions - not just his own, but the caller's as well. Anger, frustration, and a deep-seated fear of being taken advantage of washed over him in vivid detail.

So much rage, so much fear. It's like I can see it, taste it. And underneath... what's that? Worry about making ends meet? A sick spouse?

The shadows deepened around his cubicle, the very air seeming to thicken with potential. Arris closed his eyes, fighting against the urge to reach out, to delve deeper into the caller's mind, to bend their thoughts to his will.

Control. I need control. Can't let it show. Can't let it out. But... could I use this to help?

"I understand your frustration, sir," Arris said, his voice taking on that strange, compelling timbre that had become all too familiar lately. "Before we go through your bill, can you tell me a bit more about your situation? I sense there's more to your concerns than just these charges."
As the caller hesitantly opened up, Arris found himself navigating the conversation with uncanny precision, addressing fears the customer hadn't even voiced aloud. He guided them through the bill, explaining each charge while simultaneously soothing their deeper anxieties.
Through it all, Arris felt a mixture of exhilaration and unease. The power thrumming through him was intoxicating, but a small part of him recoiled at how easily he was influencing the caller's emotional state.

When did the job become just a means to an end, a playground for these new abilities? What happened to the Arris who cared about helping people, not manipulating them?

The call ended with a satisfied customer and a conflicted Arris. He removed his headset, catching sight of his reflection in the computer screen. His skin was noticeably paler, the veins at his temples darker and more pronounced. His eyes, usually a warm brown, now swirled with flecks of shadow.
Rubbing his temples to ease the constant, pulsing headache that had become his companion, Arris couldn't shake the feeling that he was standing on a precipice. The question was, would he step back from the edge... or dive into the darkness below?

"Nice work," a voice said from behind him. Arris turned to see his supervisor, Mr. Hendricks, standing at the entrance to his cubicle. "Your numbers have been impressive lately. Keep it up."
As Mr. Hendricks spoke, Arris was hit by a wave of emotions that weren't his own - pride, curiosity, and an undercurrent of suspicion. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The shadows within him stirred, reaching out hungrily towards Mr. Hendricks' mind. It would be so easy to touch his thoughts, to nudge that suspicion away and ensure continued praise and advancement. The temptation was almost overwhelming.

No. That's not who I am. That's not who I want to be. I'm better than that. Aren't I? But if I could just make sure he keeps seeing me positively...

Arris clenched his fists, fighting for control. "Thank you, sir," he managed to say, his voice strained. "I'm just trying to do my best."
As Mr. Hendricks walked away, Arris caught sight of his reflection in his computer screen. His eyes, once a warm brown, now seemed darker, flecked with shifting shadows. The veins in his neck pulsed visibly, even through the high collar of his shirt. He ran a hand through his hair, noticing how much paler his skin had become.

The mask is slipping. How long can I keep this up? How long before someone notices? Before I lose control entirely?

Chirp. Another call. Swipe. Click. Here we go again.
As Arris prepared to answer the next call, he felt the weight of his secret pressing down on him. The distance between him and his coworkers, once a comfort, now felt like a yawning chasm. The cacophony of emotions and half-formed thoughts from those around him buzzed constantly at the edges of his awareness. The routine that had once been his anchor now felt like a prison.

Is this my life now? Hiding, lying, pretending to be normal? How long can I keep up this charade? And what happens when it finally falls apart?

The questions echoed in his mind as he dove into the next call, the shadows gathering around him like a cloak. He could already sense the caller's emotional state before they even spoke. The afternoon stretched ahead, each call a new challenge, a new test of his control, and a new temptation to use his growing abilities. And with each passing moment, the mask tightened, threatening to suffocate the last remnants of the man Arris used to be.