Aegna - Emergence 

723 had such affection for the Door. It had its secrets, sure, but it never failed to warn him that they were coming again. It was a subtle thing at first, an almost imperceptible sense that it had become heavier somehow. He often didn’t notice until they were almost there.

 

Rising slowly, he began to stretch out his stiff limbs, there was still plenty of time before their arrival. The Walls hadn’t quite noticed the change yet and the blue padding that covered them was still drooping lethargically.

 

Bending over to touch his toes he noticed, as always, the gap on his left hand where a finger should have been.

 

The Ceiling beckoned him and so he reached up, trying to brush its surface with his fingertips. That one always worried him. Hanging, sloth-like, from the edges of the Walls.

 

“One day,” He croaked, voice sounding strange from disuse, “you’re simply going to fall down, right on top of me.” Truly, he felt sorry for the poor thing. It spent most of its days yearning to be a floor. To simply lie down and not have to hold itself up anymore. But it was a Ceiling, and he could do little but respect it for managing to stay up all these long years.

 

He felt a faint writhing in the padding beneath his feet. Eels. Slowly doing their own stretching underneath his toes. Looking up, he noticed the same movements in the Walls.

 

“Ah, good of you to catch up with the rest of us,” he snorted. Though, if the Walls were finally noticing, they must be getting close.

 

Preparing for the upcoming ritual he edged to the back of the room. Turning, he locked his eyes on the Door and waited. He always hated this part. The stump of his missing finger began to throb as he clenched and unclenched his hands.

 

The Door had finally fallen into its full salute for the impending arrival, shifting its weight to its hinges as it slouched against the frame. Another rush of affection flooded 723. It was trying so hard to comfort them all, to show them that there was nothing to fear. Its efforts were well received, though, as the eels in the Walls seemed to be dozing off again.

 

All of a sudden, the time was upon them and just as he thought that the door would slump to the ground in a crescendo of indifference, a harsh voice came through the intercom.

 

 “7-2-3, step to the back of the cell.”