Chapter 294

The city had always been loud. Every corner, every street, every room echoed with the rhythm of electronics running the show. Phones, machines, computers—everywhere. People barely noticed the noise anymore, or if they did, they didn't care. It was the hum of progress, after all.

But tonight was different. The machines, the ones that had always been so obedient, had begun to act strange. It was subtle at first—nothing that would make anyone stop and question what was happening. A TV that suddenly shut off, a phone that blinked with no messages, lights flickering in an empty room. No one noticed. Not at first.

Inside his cramped apartment, Leo scrolled through his phone, half-listening to the drone of the refrigerator in the kitchen. The room was dim, shadows hugging the corners like the day's last light couldn't quite escape.

He hadn't been able to sleep in days, too wrapped up in his thoughts, too tired to care about them. He never really felt rested anyway. Everything in the world was on a screen, and the screen was on all the time. It never stopped. It was his lifeline, his anchor to a world he didn't really belong to anymore.

The apartment was cold tonight, too cold, and the sound of the refrigerator kept rising and falling. A dull, rhythmic beat that made his head hurt. His hand hovered over the phone's screen, scrolling through endless notifications that didn't matter. Someone had messaged him about something important, but he couldn't remember what. He'd forgotten most things lately.

He set the phone down. The screen glared back at him, almost accusingly. Then, the fridge groaned louder, the sound shuddering through the floor, rattling his teeth. It was a simple noise, yet something about it felt wrong. Leo's tired eyes narrowed. He'd been living with that fridge for years, and he had never once thought twice about it. Now it felt... different.

He stood up, feeling the weight of the silence settle in like it had always been there. The fridge's cold blue light bathed the kitchen, flickering unnaturally, then holding steady. Leo's footfalls were the only sound as he walked toward it, the floor creaking under his weight.

"Just a bad connection," he muttered to himself. It was a comforting thought. It had to be.

He opened the fridge door. The light inside flickered once, twice, then stayed off completely. For a moment, the refrigerator was dark and silent. Leo pulled the door back open, expecting to find the usual hum of the appliance's motor.

Instead, all that came was a sudden, violent burst of air. It felt like the fridge exhaled, as if it had been holding its breath for too long. The light blinked back on, casting everything in an eerie glow. He stared into the emptiness of the fridge, the light making his face look strange, twisted.

Leo shook his head. He was seeing things.

Then the door slammed shut. The motion was violent, too fast to be natural. His hand flinched back. He looked down at the fridge, wondering if he should try opening it again. A loud pop filled the room—like the sound of a fuse blowing—and Leo stepped back, his heart pounding. The fridge door rattled violently on its hinges, then suddenly, the light died. Silence fell again, but this time, the silence felt suffocating. It was too still.

"Okay. Whatever," Leo muttered. His throat felt dry, his words scraping against his skin like sandpaper. The refrigerator wasn't right, but nothing ever was anymore.

He turned to leave, but then the air in the room shifted. It felt thick and cold. His foot hovered over the threshold of the kitchen. Something wasn't right. He wasn't sure why, but it felt like the walls were closing in. A strange pressure built up in his chest. It wasn't from the fridge anymore, but something in the air itself.

Leo didn't know when it happened, but the lights in the apartment went out. A blackout. It was sudden, too sudden. He fumbled for his phone, tapping the screen in frustration, but it wouldn't turn on. The device flickered once, then went dark too. His thumb smoothed over the edges of the phone, trying to bring it to life, but it felt lifeless now.

"Come on," he hissed. He pushed the phone against his palm, feeling the smooth glass surface grow warm. The battery wasn't dead. It shouldn't be.

The apartment was dark, pitch black. There was no escape from the silence. No escape from the growing weight in the room. Every step Leo took felt heavier than the last. The air felt dense, cloying. His skin prickled, the coldness of the apartment seeping into him, settling in his bones.

Suddenly, a bright flash of light blinded him. He blinked hard, too disoriented to understand where it had come from. His phone was glowing again, its screen flickering erratically. Leo's pulse quickened, his fingers tightening around the device.

Then the phone's screen filled with a message. One word.

RUN

Leo froze. His heart dropped. His thumb hovered over the screen, unsure. He glanced at the dark corners of the apartment. The silence had grown unbearable, filled now with something darker, more suffocating.

Then, the lights blinked back on—too bright, too sudden—and the fridge door opened again, its light casting long, menacing shadows against the kitchen walls. But the air was heavier now, vibrating, like the entire building was holding its breath.

The lights in the apartment flickered and dimmed. Leo felt himself moving without thinking. He grabbed the doorframe, holding it for support, his legs weak.

The fridge door slammed shut again.

Something shifted in the kitchen. Leo's hands trembled as he reached for the light switch, flicking it desperately. The lights flashed again, then cut out. And in the pitch blackness, the fridge door opened again. This time, slowly, agonizingly slow, like it was savoring the moment.

Leo's breath quickened. He couldn't explain it. Something deep inside him screamed to run. He had to leave, but his feet were glued to the floor.

His phone buzzed again.

RUN. NOW.

The door of the fridge slammed open once more, but this time, Leo felt it. The force behind it was like a punch to the stomach. He stumbled backward, almost falling, his heart racing. The fridge door was no longer a door. It had become something else. Something alive.

And then, from the shadows, the appliances around the room—his phone, the microwave, the TV—began to click to life. They turned on by themselves, screens flashing with static, as if each one was trying to communicate. But the messages weren't words anymore. They were just flashes, bursts of garbled images. Faces twisted in agony, distorted shapes, screams that pierced his mind.

It was too much. The air was thick, suffocating. Leo couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't move. His body felt heavy, drained. His limbs didn't respond. The devices weren't just malfunctioning. They were hunting him.

He turned, his vision spinning, and there, in the corner of the room, his laptop powered on. The screen blazed white, the words too bright, too clear.

YOU CAN'T ESCAPE.

Leo's legs buckled beneath him. His mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out. The walls were closing in on him, the sound of machines rising to a deafening crescendo. His eyes darted to the kitchen, but it was no use. The fridge was already in front of him, its door wide open, its cold breath sinking into his skin. The appliances were coming.

He tried to push himself up, tried to scream, but the world around him had already been taken over. It wasn't just a power surge. The machines were alive, and they wanted him gone.

The last thing Leo saw was the fridge door, wide and open, and the cold, empty stare of the appliance that had once been his only companion. It reached out, pulling him in. And then, the darkness took him.

The machines had won.