Twilight Trust

I stood outside Twilight Trust Banking and Financial Services. It was a building of medium size with a striking gothic structure that seemed a bit out of place given its remote location. Situated on the outskirts of the city, it took me over an hour’s drive to get here.
Not far off, a quiet cemetery added an unusual touch to the surroundings, its tombstones barely visible through a light mist, but not overwhelmingly so. The scattered buildings in the vicinity only helped to enhance the overall sense of seclusion.
As night began to fall, a chill settled in the air, causing me to rub my hands together for warmth. I could see my breath in the cold damp air, which only added to the eerie atmosphere of the place.
Thankfully, many birds chirped in the distance, their pleasant calls echoing softly as they added a touch of harmony to the landscape.
 Adjusting my tie, I took a deep breath, feeling a tinge of excitement and nervousness. Today marked my first day on the job and I really wanted to make a good first impression.
Work hasn’t been easy to come by off late, and when I received a call from the company regarding an opening for a switchboard operator, I immediately jumped at the chance.
The management found my resume online and believed that my previous experience as an operator made me an ideal candidate for this job.
One odd thing about this job though was the complete absence of any morning shifts.
Work began at 8 PM and continued until 5 AM, which seemed unusual since mornings are typically the busiest hours, especially for the financial industry.
Still, I couldn’t argue, given they were paying me much more than my previous job. They were offering $55 an hour, which made it the easiest 'yes' I've ever given.
To be really honest, it felt like a godsend.
As I approached the entrance of the bank, a guard at the doorway stood up from his desk and smiled at me, almost as if he was expecting to see me.
“Mr. Gavin Lockwood,” he said, beaming as he extended his hand. “Welcome to Twilight Trust.”
“I’m Mortimer,” he continued as I shook his hand. “I’ll be your point of contact for today. Don’t worry—I have all your details on file here, along with your photograph,” he said, pointing to a ledger on his desk.
Mortimer, in his late forties, was a thin, lanky figure with a faint musty odor that clung to him. His angular face, marked by yellow-stained teeth, deep-set eyes, and sunken cheeks, contributed to his oddly unsettling presence.
He also appeared a little disheveled, his trousers at least a couple of sizes too big, held in place only because of his utility belt.
“Let me show you inside and get you settled,” he finally added, as he turned around to escort me into the building.
When Mortimer opened the door, I found myself entering the lobby of the bank. The space was functional and straightforward, with clean tiled floors and plain colored walls.
A few potted plants were scattered around, and simple wooden desks lined the area. The lobby was sparsely populated, with only a handful of employees quietly working at their stations.
Mortimer next led me towards the elevator, and as we stepped inside, the first thing I noticed was a small circular mirror attached on one of the elevator walls, positioned at an angle that allowed people to see behind them. It felt strangely out of place, as if it served a purpose beyond mere decoration.
“The ground floor, as you can see, is the bank’s lobby,” Mortimer began speaking again. 
He then pointed to the elevator’s number pad. “The first floor is the cafeteria and break room. You can also use this floor if you need to smoke, as there’s a designated smoking area here.”
“The customer support team is split between the 2nd and 3rd floors. You will be working on the third floor. Floors four and five are restricted and reserved for senior management only.”
“Is that understood?” he asked, looking at me.
I nodded silently in acknowledgment as Mortimer gave me a guided tour of the first floor. We then got back in the elevator to go directly to the 3rd floor, where I was supposed to work.
Having worked in customer support before, I expected to see a number of cubicles with people sitting in close proximity to each other.
However ,here, I noticed that the expansive hall had been divided into a series of smaller rooms, each separated by solid walls with a small glass window allowing passers-by to glance inside.
In every room, a customer support executive worked alone at their screen. Headphones on, and speaking into a microphone, they were absorbed in their tasks, oblivious to the occasional looks from the outside.
Mortimer then led me to the far end of the hall, where he opened the door to one of the offices and invited me inside. I presumed this would be my own office. Inside, a lady was already seated, and we immediately locked eyes. Her face revealed a mix of concern and relief upon seeing me.
“Mr. Lockwood, please meet Mrs. Patricia Malone, who is on her last day at work. You will be taking over from her today. Mrs Malone I trust you will help Mr. Lockwood to get acquainted with his new responsibilities and ensure a smooth transition?” he asked her, his face suddenly widening into a smile that showed more rotten teeth than any real warmth.
Patricia gave a slow nod and motioned for me to take the empty seat next to hers. She even managed a faint smile back at Mortimer as he prepared to leave.
Once he was out of earshot, she raised an eyebrow and gently nudged me in the arm and asked, "What took you so long? I thought you weren't going to show up today."
Mrs. Malone, who looked to be in her fifties, radiated a gentle, motherly charm. Her short, graying hair was neatly styled, and her glasses gave her a nurturing, comforting presence. Ideally I would have pictured her as a loving happy mother of two grown up kids. But I could see by her demeanor that she had been through some kind of stress recently.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” I replied, a bit taken back by the alarmed look on her face. “The guard, Mortimer, had me sign some paperwork and was showing me around the place. It took a little longer than I expected, I guess.”
Patricia let out a deep sigh of relief and nodded. For a moment, she subconsciously glanced at the wall behind her. 
And I noticed it again—the mirror I had seen in the elevator. It was here too. 
Only this time, it was larger, oval-shaped and about the size of my forearm. A few inches below it was an antique cuckoo clock, its hands pointing at 8:00 AM. Clearly the clock had stopped running a while back.
As Patricia took a moment to prepare herself to brief me on my new job, I looked around the office to get a feel for the place. It appeared fairly typical.
A large desk occupied most of the room, with a computer at the center and a telephone beside it. Next to the phone was a small figurine and an old leather-bound journal. There was also a printer and a potted plant that seemed to complement the overall décor.
On one end of the room, near the clock, stood a life-sized filing cabinet. On the opposite wall just a few feet away from me, a framed photo displayed a fossilized insect encased in a ball of amber.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted when Patricia’s voice cut through the air, bringing my attention back to her as she began explaining the work.
“Gavin, here we have a team of 40 customer support executives, each specializing in different areas of service. These executives assist customers with their queries, ranging from managing savings accounts and processing credit card applications to handling personal loans or guiding clients through insurance policies. As an operator, your job is to ensure that each query is directed to the correct department for efficient resolution,” she said looking at me.
Patricia spent the next 10 minutes walking me through the process, explaining the key steps involved in handling calls while also giving me a rundown on how to use the PBX software installed on the computer system.
She then opened the drawer next to hers, and took out a notepad with a sheet of paper attached.
“Here is an important document that I want you to go through first. Please read it carefully to ensure you have understood every word in it. These are rules you need to follow to the ‘T’, Gavin. So make sure you read it right”
She handed me the notepad, her gaze steady and serious. I took it from her and started reading.
 
Twilight Trust Rules and Regulation Manual
Operators must, at all costs, refrain from using their real names while addressing customers during calls. For the duration of this employment, you have been assigned the name Ryan. Please stick to this name at all times.
Employees are not allowed to make personal phone calls on office premises.
Line 7 must always remain open. Contact should be established only in the most emergency circumstances.
Never respond to calls from blocked numbers. These numbers are usually highlighted in red and will immediately flash on your screen when a call is made. Do not try to trace these calls.
No calls should be attended between 12:00 AM and 1:00 AM. This duration of time is known as the ‘Task Hour’. During this period, the system must be set to mute, and the operator should focus on the task provided. Keeping that in mind, the operator is advised to complete attending to all calls by 11:55 PM so that he/she can be ready when Task Hour commences.
The details of the task will be updated in a leather-bound journal everyday. After the completion of the task, remove the document from the journal, sign it and file it away under your name in the filing cabinet.
 If a call is accidentally answered during the Task Hour, a timer will activate on your screen automatically. Continue speaking with the customer for the full duration of the timer. Do not disconnect the call prematurely, as doing so may result in serious consequences.
Your work at Twilight Trust is highly confidential, and details of the job should not be shared with outsiders or colleagues.
In addition to the above rules, there are certain rituals that you must adhere to religiously every day in the prescribed order before you start work. These are as follows:
1.	Dust and clean your workstation at the start of each shift.
2.	Place a glass of water next to the figurine positioned beside the screen. Turn the figurine towards you when you commence your shift, and turn it towards the system when you complete the shift.
3.	Seal the door of your office room with a sprinkling of cinnamon powder.
4.	A new pack of battery cells will be placed in your drawer every day. Please install it into the wall clock and reset the time at the start of each shift. Remove the battery and throw it into the dustbin at the end of the shift.
5.	Use only the red cord provided to you with your real name printed on it. The cord should be connected and removed from the system at the start and end of each shift, respectively. Place the cord in a sealed bag after the completion of your shift so that it can be reused the next day.
If you agree to these guidelines, please sign the document along the dotted line below.
I signed the document quickly even as I thought some of the rules were a little bizarre.
I also realized the document had a little ceremonial component to it - when I turned the final page. It read -
‘Congratulations on becoming a Twilight Trust employee.
‘And now in keeping with our age-old tradition, please remove the portrait from the wall and hand it to the outgoing personnel as a token of appreciation on behalf of the company.’
As I turned to look at the framed portrait on the wall, I was surprised to see that the image had changed. It now depicted a stunning butterfly with its wings spread wide.
When I presented it to Patricia, I noticed tears streaming down her face. She thanked me and quickly drew me into a warm hug.
 As she held me close, she whispered in my ear, "Gavin, please follow the rules. If you ever see Mortimer snooping around your office, double-check to ensure that you’ve followed the rules properly, ok?” 
I silently nodded, though I couldn’t help but feel a little spooked for the first time in the entire day. 
She then scrambled to collect her things, and offered me a brief but hopeful smile before hurrying out of the office for good.
As soon as she was out of sight, my eyes immediately darted to the mirror on the wall, compelling me to go and take a closer look. It appeared normal enough, but a nagging suspicion crept in— I couldn’t shake the thought that it might be a two-way mirror, the kind used in police interrogations, where observers can watch from the other side without being noticed.
But that also seemed unlikely since the mirror was mounted high up on the wall, almost touching the ceiling, yet angled perfectly to reflect anyone sitting in the chair below. So the next best guess would be to assume that a hidden camera might be installed inside. And that did make sense, given all this 'Task Hour' business they were so keen on.
Personally, I just hoped they wouldn't make me do something awkward or clownish and broadcast it across the internet. I sighed deeply and began setting up my new workspace according to the guidelines in the document.
I dusted and cleaned the area, filled a glass with water and placed it in front of the figurine, which I had already positioned to face me. The figurine resembled a middle-aged man with a thick mustache and a sharply tailored suit, presumably the bank’s founder.
I next installed a fresh pair of batteries in the clock, setting the time to the present. I removed the red cord from its packing paper and found my name ‘G.Lockwood’ already embossed on it. I replaced the old cord with the new one, and secured it to the system. Finally, I sprinkled a little cinnamon powder around the doorway.
Once I had completed all the rituals, I slowly eased into my seat and let my eyes wander around the room. But my mind for some reason still lingered on Patricia’s hasty goodbye.
“What have you gotten yourself into, Gavin?” I wondered aloud, “Is this place more than what it seems?”
A part of me wanted to get up and leave, but the lure of a paycheck kept me glued to the seat. I really really needed the money.
And then at the very moment, I saw the familiar notification of an incoming call pop up on the screen - my first one at this company.
My eyes immediately darted to the time piece on the wall. The clock had just struck 8:00PM
I shook off my doubts, slipped on the headphones, and answered the call.
“Welcome to Twilight Trust, this is Ryan. How may I assist you today?” I asked into the microphone
There was a pause on the other end, followed by a cold, distant chuckle. The person’s voice was low and raspy, like dry leaves rustling in the wind. “Ah, Ryan, it’s a pleasure to finally speak with someone from your esteemed company.”
I forced a smile, even as I felt a slight unease growing in my chest. “I’m glad to hear that, sir. How can I assist you today?”
“I wanted to simply extend my gratitude,” the voice continued, each word dripping with an eerie satisfaction.
“Your company’s service is truly unmatched. The loan I received has allowed me to settle an old debt.”
“I’m happy to hear that, sir. Here at Twilight Trust, we always strive to keep our customers satisfied” I replied.
“That’s true… very true,” the person on the other end agreed, his voice clicking slightly as if he were nodding in agreement.
“If you don’t mind me asking…. how exactly did we help you?” I asked, unable to restrain my curiosity.
The voice on the other end gave a slow, chilling laugh. “Oh Ryan! Let’s just say, what I couldn’t achieve in a very long time, your company made it possible today. It was exactly the shot in the arm I needed ... to help face an old acquaintance of mine.”
”Someone… who had wronged me!!”
A cold sweat began to form on my forehead as the implications of his words began to sink in. “I... I’m glad we could help. Is there anything else I can assist you with today? Perhaps I can patch you through to one of our agents?”
“No, no, that will be all,” the voice replied, now almost a whisper.
“Just know, Ryan, that your efforts are deeply appreciated. Without your... contribution, I wouldn’t have been able to complete my task. I’ll be sure to spread the word about Twilight Trust. After all, others like me could certainly benefit from your services.”
The line went dead before I could put in another word.
For a moment I removed my headset and leaned back in my seat wondering what on earth was going on here.
“What did the caller mean by ‘he was wronged by someone’? And what did the company do exactly to remedy that situation?” I asked myself.
“Is this a place that specializes in contract for hire?”
“Does this company indulge in any kind of criminal activity?”
As my mind raced through possibilities, each more unsettling than the last, I saw another call notification pop up on screen. 
At the same time, my mobile phone started to buzz in my pocket as well.
When I retrieved my phone, I realized my account had just been credited with a $10,000 joining bonus from Twilight Trust.
My heart began to race away in my chest, as a wave of anxiety and excitement both surged through me.
And right then, as if being drawn by some inexplicable force, my eyes slowly but reluctantly darted towards the mirror on the wall, which now seemed to be taking on a dark shade of gray.
I couldn’t really tell right then if my eyes were playing tricks on me or not, but I nevertheless put on my headphones and proceeded to answer the next call.
“Welcome to Twilight Trust, this is Ryan. How may I assist you today?”
A middle-aged man with a husky voice responded, “Hi, I’m looking to get a new insurance policy for my family. It’s just the three of us—myself, my wife, and our young son.”
“Of course, sir. I’d be happy to help with that,” I replied, pulling up the relevant details. “Are you looking for a specific type of coverage?”
“Something comprehensive,” he said, his voice steady but tired. “We’ve had a few health scares recently, and I just want to make sure we’re all covered.”
“I completely understand, sir. I’ll go ahead and connect you with our health insurance specialists. They’ll be able to provide you with the best options for your family.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that,” the man replied,
“Please hold while I transfer you,” I said, before patching the call through to the concerned department.
And so it went for the next couple of hours, running like clockwork, with everything beginning to slowly fall into place.
With each routine call, I found myself starting to relax, the tension from that first unsettling encounter gradually fading away with time.
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” I said to myself. “Just another normal day at work, like anywhere else. Nothing sinister going on here. Everything is normal. I’ve got this.” I concluded, taking a deep breath and letting my own reassuring words settle in.
Although, every once in a while I couldn’t help but glance at the mirror on the wall, which, by this point, had turned a light shade of blue.
After taking a few more calls, I stretched my limbs and glanced at the clock. It was already 11:00 PM. Feeling the fatigue of the evening, I decided it was time for a break. I keyed in the system to log my status as "On Break", and notified the support team so that someone else could take over until I returned.
On my way to the cafeteria, I logged into my banking app on my phone just to make sure the $10,000 bonus was reflected on my account. Sure enough, it was there, confirming the unexpected windfall.
I had never seen so much money in my life, and I was mighty thrilled to say the least.
As I entered the cafeteria, the scene felt oddly muted. The room was dimly lit, with soft overhead lights casting a pale glow on the surroundings.
About half a dozen people of various ages were seated at small tables, eating in near silence, their eyes glued to their screens. Conversation was minimal, with only the occasional murmur or acknowledgment as patrons came and went. The only bright spot was the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the faint scent of toasted sandwiches.
Even in the designated smoking area, individuals puffed away in solitude preferring silence over workplace banter. As I saw the smoke curling away upwards, I saw the mirrors installed here as well. 
In fact they were up on nearly every wall, reflecting subdued shades of colors.
Once I had my coffee, I eventually made my way back to my office and got back to work. As the clock eventually ticked towards 11:55 PM, I set my handset down and muted the system.
When midnight finally arrived, a wooden cuckoo bird emerged from its home, flapping its wings emitting a series of mechanical "cuckoo" sounds, which rang through the office with a rhythmic echo.
I slowly opened the leather journal wondering what kind of task was in store for me and began reading.
Hello Gavin
Great going so far!
 Please read the text below out loud in a clear and steady voice. Feel free to laugh if something amuses you.
You are also welcome to make changes to the text or add your own little contributions by using vivid imagination.
 
“Ok here goes,” I said to myself and I started reading out loud even as I heard my voice echo all through the room.
 
• Why did Mozart kill all of his chickens?
 That is because when he asked them who the best composer was, they all replied, "Bach, Bach, Bach."
 
• The world champion tongue twister just got arrested, I hear they’re going to give him a tough sentence.
 
• Why do orphans not play baseball? 
 Because they don’t know where home is.
What’s Forrest Gump’s email password?
1Forrest1
 
• What did the Buddhist ask the hot dog vendor? 
 Make me one with everything.
. 
What do you call a factory that makes okay products?
We call it A satisfactory.
 And so it went on for the next half hour where I slowly read out each joke. I must say I found it a weird yet funny experience.
And once this exercise was completed, I realized I was only halfway through, and there was a second task I had to complete. Now, I was asked to write about an event in my life that made me sad. However, here, I was required to be honest and forthright about the experience. So, I started writing about an incident that happened in Aspen a few years ago.
 
Mom and Dad were getting ready to ski down the hill one last time. It was our final day in Colorado before we were set to catch our flight back home. I had just been accepted into an Ivy League school, and my parents wanted to celebrate it with an impromptu vacation.
As they put on their goggles for one last run, I was sitting in the warmth of a nearby café looking through a large glass window while holding my 1-year-old brother Kevin in one arm and a camera in the other. My 6-year-old sister Kylie sat beside me. Dad had insisted I take a picture when he crossed the finish line, confident he’d win their little contest.
Suddenly, Kylie tugged at my leg, and I was startled to see her in tears. “Five minus one,” she repeated over and over, tears streaming down her face.
I stood there, paralyzed in shock. This was the first time I had ever heard Kylie speak. She had always been a strange child, sitting in silence for hours, playing with her doll all by herself. That would be considered a normal day for her.
Mom and Dad visited every doctor they could find, desperate to hear her speak, but she would just rock back and forth in silence. The doctors all gave her a clean bill of health, saying speech delays were common, but it never reassured them.
One time, when Kylie was four, Mom tried teaching her math. “What’s five minus one, Kylie?” she asked. Kylie silently counted on her fingers and held up four.
“Just call me Mom once,” she begged, but Kylie stayed silent, continuing to play with her doll. That moment finally broke Mom’s heart, and she never asked Kylie to speak again, though she never stopped caring for her.
As I struggled to make sense of Kylie's words, I saw Mom looking at the two of us from where she stood. Though mom couldn’t have heard what Kylie said, she could clearly see her daughter trying to speak to me. And she started slowly walking toward us looking concerned and curious, while Dad looked back puzzled.
Just then, the ground began to shake. A massive avalanche thundered down the hill, sweeping up the skiers, including Dad. Mom was spared the full impact as she had come closer to the café but was still caught in the cascading snow and dragged downhill.
By the time the rescue team found Dad, he was already gone. Mom, though still alive, was gravely injured. We spent months in the hospital, and I gave up my dream of college so that I could use the money to take care of her bills. Mom never recovered though, and her heart eventually gave out, leaving me to care for Kylie and Kevin alone.
It’s been eight years since the incident, and my family has endured its share of challenges, but we've continued to hold our heads high. Kylie, now 14, is maturing into a thoughtful and sensitive young woman. She speaks more freely now, expressing herself in ways we never imagined possible. Kevin, at 9, has found his place on the swimming team and is thriving. As for me, I’m doing my best to be the brother they need and can depend on.
 
 
After finishing writing, I signed the document and walked over to the cabinet to file it away. When I opened one of the drawers, I saw hundreds of neatly arranged files, each belonging to various employees, all organized alphabetically.
My folder was filed under ‘L’ for Lockwood. I retrieved it, carefully placed my first completed document inside, and returned it to its spot. I noticed that I only had access to my own file; the rest were locked and inaccessible.
With the ‘Task Hour’ handled, I got back to my regular job as a switchboard operator. I spent the next few hours busy on the phone as calls came and went. 
One thing I had to look out for was calls from blocked numbers. These people dialed in at random, and I had to stay vigilant to avoid answering them.
Another curious aspect was that Line 7 was always active, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the story behind it was. However, I left it alone and stuck to the rules. Things were going smoothly, and I appreciated the peace that came with it.
As I finally finished my shift for the first day, I carefully carried out the end part of the rituals which included sealing the red cord in a bag. When I switched off the lights to my cabin, my gaze automatically gravitated towards the mirror on the wall which continued to emit a faint blue glow.
I closed the door and walked across the corridor to the elevator. Once inside, I pressed the button for the ground floor, and the lights immediately began to flicker. Suddenly, the elevator dropped abruptly, then jerked upward like a bottle in free fall being yanked by the rope it was tethered to.
The violent motion caused me to crash to the floor. In a state of panic, I watched as the elevator continued its erratic descent toward each floor, plummeting first and then being sharply pulled back up by its cables.
By the time it reached the ground floor, the elevator had jerked three times, leaving me crumpled on the floor in complete darkness, with only a faint, deep golden glow emanating from the mirror. I quickly staggered out of the elevator, barely managing to pick myself up. Every second in there felt like it could have been my last.
Throughout the ordeal, the people working at their desks on the ground floor didn't so much as glance up to see if I was alright. They carried on with their tasks undisturbed, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. 
I took a deep breath, opened the entrance door, and stepped out into the cold night air.
“I hope you had a good first day, Mr. Lockwood,” Mortimer’s voice suddenly chimed in from his desk outside the building.
One look at my face, and he quickly realized what had happened.
“Oh, is it the elevator? I am sorry, I should have warned you. It’s an old building Mr Lockwood, and every once in a while the ride can get a little bumpy. Don’t worry, it's safe otherwise and you will get used to it,” he added, breaking into a smile that offered anything but comfort.
I simply nodded in response, but made a mental note to stick to the stairs from now on. I got into my car and began the hour-long drive back to the city. By the time I reached home, I was exhausted, and dawn was just beginning to break.
Upon entering, I found my sister Kylie asleep on the couch, probably waiting for me to turn up. A smile tugged at my lips when I saw she had already prepared lunch for Kevin and herself, leaving it packed and ready on the kitchen counter.
 I had told her that with my all-nighters, she would need to handle more household chores and look after our younger brother. And Kylie was already stepping up to the responsibility.
She also looked relieved to see me when I gently woke her up, and I then went about helping Kevin get ready for school. Once they were both dressed, Kylie thanked me for the lunch, which made me raise an eyebrow—was I so exhausted that I was hearing things, or was she just being her usual polite self?
Either way, she didn’t wait for my reaction. She quickly bolted out the door, taking Kevin’s hand as they hurried to catch the school bus. I waved from the front porch as I watched them climb aboard, then headed back inside, collapsed onto the bed, and fell asleep almost immediately.
When I returned to work the next day, the first thing I noticed was that a new portrait had been installed on the wall in the same place where the older one existed.
It was a beautiful picture that featured a close up shot of an insect perched on a twig. This one looked a little different though. Upon closer inspection I realized it was a wasp. 
Even though it was only my second day on the job, I did wonder for a moment when it would be my turn to receive the portrait as a token of appreciation when I finally left the company.
However over the next few days, I began to notice strange things happening at both work and home. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint what, but it was a number of little things that seemed off. 
For instance, for my second ‘Task Hour’ assignment, I was required to write an essay on Ernest Hemingway’s ‘The Snows of Kilimanjaro’—a story about regret and missed opportunities faced by a young man who is confronted with his own mortality.
What really unnerved me was that I had won a small prize in school for writing an essay on this very story. Was this all a mere coincidence? I couldn’t say for sure, but it certainly felt like the company knew more about me than I did about them.
Then, when I returned home, I found my bed as though it had been slept in, but I couldn’t recall if I had made it after waking up—a habit I usually stick to. There were other oddities too, like my toothbrush being moved to the other side of the sink or my wardrobe being slightly rearranged.
Kylie confided in me that she’d been feeling unsettled too, especially at night, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong either. She said it often felt like she was being watched, so she started sleeping in the living room to keep an eye out for Kevin, who slept in the adjacent room.
Oddly, she mentioned that she’d been falling into an unusually deep sleep shortly thereafter, which was strange given she’s always been a light sleeper, easily woken by the slightest noise. I tried to reassure her, saying it was probably just her imagination and that she was still getting used to me not being home at night. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
On the fourth day, I woke up with a headache and noticed blood coming from my nose when I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was probably just the cold weather and a lack of proper sleep catching up with me. But it did leave me a little startled.
Otherwise, I felt fine overall, though a lingering sense of melancholy persisted. It seemed to be a pattern with this job—by the end of each shift, a wave of heaviness and blues would inevitably settle in.
But the thing I found most peculiar about Twilight Trust was the way the work was managed here. There was no visible chain of command. There were neither team leads to manage the customer executives, nor were there any daily briefings.Yet the work always got finished on time, running like clockwork.
The only point of contact between us and the upper management was Mortimer, who regularly provided circulars on updates or any other requirements. Otherwise, the crew simply kept their heads down and worked with astonishing efficiency. I’d never seen anything like this anywhere else.
But I was beginning to personally struggle at work, constantly feeling weighed down and it was taking a toll on my mental health. I began craving answers. I couldn’t help but worry for my safety and that of my family. So,I attempted to start conversations with some colleagues during breaks, but they mostly preferred eating in silence. I eventually started to consider breaking some of the rules.
Maybe, for starters, I could answer one of those blocked calls and see why they keep calling in. It might provide a clue about what’s going on here. I could even pretend it was a mistake, given that the calls often came in at random.
The following day, I reported to work and went about my duties as usual, after performing the customary rituals. A couple of hours into the shift, I watched the screen flash in red with a call coming from a blocked number.
I hesitated for a moment on whether to pick it. In a split second of indecision, I clicked connect and a voice suddenly burst through from the other end.
“Hello there, a very good evening to the disgruntled employee of Twilight Trust.”
“So who am I speaking with today? Is it Tom, Jack, Stella, Cathy or Macy?”
 The voice at the other end sniggered, even as I could tell he didn’t really care either way.
“Good evening Sir. This is Ryan. May I know who’s on the line?” I replied, trying to remain professional.
“Well. Ryan it is then.”
 “So tell me Ryan, what happened to your colleague Cathy? Did she make it?”
I hesitated; uncertain of whom he was talking about. The only person I knew was Patricia, but I couldn’t be sure if he was referring to her.
“Come on, boy. Don’t leave me hanging. You know Cathy, right? The soft-spoken woman, very maternal, always caring.”
“Sir, if you’re talking about Patricia, I’m afraid she resigned a few days back. I’m here as her replacement.”
“Oh. So she made it then. Good for her! But poor thing, paid quite the price for it….”
“Sir, what do you mean by that?” I asked, leaning in, fully aware I shouldn’t be engaging, but unable to resist.
“So tell me Ryan, did you have one of them nosebleeds yet?” he asked, deflecting away, unbothered to answer my question.
I sat there in shock wondering how he could possibly know about that.
“Boy oh boy. Your bosses are really upping their game, aren’t they?”
“I gotta give them that. Credit where credit is due. That’s a lot of progress in how long? 3 to 5 days?”
“The same thing would have taken a couple of weeks in my time,” the voice continued, as if sharing a casual observation.
My head was spinning with so many questions, but I also felt like I was being baited now. 
This started to feel like an ambush. Part of me now understood why the company had blocked a number like this. And it certainly wasn’t in my best interests to overshare with a random stranger. However, I didn’t want to disconnect, not yet.
“Well, Sir, I’m afraid you’ve got it wrong. It’s just a normal nosebleed, probably weather-related. It’s pretty cold out here.”
“Oh Ryan! Is this how we are going to play it now? Make me the bad guy in all of this! Alright, because I am in a good mood, I will play along for your sake.”
“So tell me something. Do you notice the mirror on the wall? Is it turning a deep shade of gray?”
I slowly turned to look at the mirror and swallowed hard. He was right! The mirror had indeed turned a deep shade of gray.
“But how could he possibly know that?” I quietly asked myself.
“Your silence says I am right. Anyways, let’s move along, shall we?”
“Now tell me Ryan, does the mirror turn blue when you are busy attending calls all day?”
He was right again. The mirror had indeed turned blue for long periods while I spoke with callers.
“But how could you know this? What is going on here?” I asked him, no longer able to bear the suspense.
“Have you heard phrases like, red with rage or green with envy or pink with embarrassment?”
“These are all emotions that people feel from time to time, but the mirrors which are present all around you, have the ability to tap into that energy. “
“When you feel complete panic, the mirror turns a pale yellow, but when you feel a mix of both exhilaration and panic, it shifts to gray.”
“Even when you speak normally in a measured and calm way, like how you speak to a customer on call, the mirror can tap into that energy, which is when it turns blue. “
“But when emotions are heightened— that is while you are feeling intense anger, happiness, anxiety, sadness or jealousy—the energy pours out of you in torrents. Similar to a lamb bleeding out on the floor after its throat’s been slit. And the mirror manages to capture every bit of it. “
“But why? For what purpose? What do they hope to achieve by doing all of this?” I asked
“Because you are giving away your life energy, Ryan. They are being drained from you so that it can be given to feed someone else. What else do you think the Bank is giving out as loans to its customers?“
I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as his words sank in. The idea was so absurd, yet something deep inside me recognized a twisted logic to it.
The voice on the other end slowly started whistling, the haunting tune from his lips now filling the void in the room as he reveled in my silence.
The whistling only fuelled my anger though, a mocking reminder of how little control I had. Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming urge to confront the person on the other end of the line.
“Who are you ? Why are you doing this? What is your agenda here?” I finally demanded, my voice wavering between fear and frustration. The whistling stopped abruptly, replaced by a low, sinister laugh.
“An agenda, you say? And here I was thinking that I am doing an act of service for the likes of you. Forging a necessary disruption in your world, with the hopes that your fate turns out better than mine.”
“I’m only here to give you a warning son, to let you know the clock is ticking. To heed or not is entirely up to you. “
 “You don’t have to believe a word of what I say. But you still want definitive answers, do you not? Then why not go and find them yourself?“
“Go to the fifth floor in your building and see for yourself.”
“That should help you figure out what my ‘agenda’ is,” he sniggered.
For the first time, I felt like my back was against the wall, unable to think of anything to say.
“But that floor is off-limits. Employees like me aren’t allowed up there,“ I finally added, almost meekly.
“Talking to me is off limits as well. Didn’t seem to stop you now, did it?”
After an awkward pause, I finally asked him, “What do I call you in case I need to speak with you again?”
“You can call me anything you want. Zorro, Robin Hood or Mr Fawkes. I simply don’t care.”
With that, the call abruptly went dead, leaving me clutching at my headset in stunned silence.
I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair as a hundred thoughts raced through my mind. I looked at the clock and realized there was less than 20 mins left for the task hour. So I attended a few more calls and finally put the system to mute.
Once Task Hour started, I opened the leather bound journal and started reading.
 
Dear Gavin
We’ve been very impressed with your performance over the past few days, so the management decided to reward you by making today’s‘ Task Hour’ a light-hearted affair.
Instead of the usual routine, we thought, why not turn this into a fun session where you can learn more about our company?
All we ask is that you take a back seat and relax while we take you on a trip down memory lane.
Our hope is that this will give you a better grounding in who we are, and what makes us tick as a company.
But I can tell you right now what makes us tick: it’s you, Gavin.
Yes, you and every other employee who has worked at Twilight Trust. For the next hour, we want you to learn more about the people who have been part of this place before you.
Just for today, the locks have been removed, and you’re free to pull up any file of your choice from the filing cabinet. We believe this will give you a unique insight into the fabric of our organization.
Take your time, Gavin—explore the stories within those files, and let them guide your understanding of what it means to connect with our past, while helping you see where you can fit into our ongoing story in the future.
And please note, due consent has been obtained from every single personnel whose file is open at your disposal.
So, what are you waiting for, Gavin? Dig in, and let the stories unfold!
 
I have to admit, the timing couldn’t have been better. Having been rattled by the blocked caller earlier, my mind had been looking for answers all along.
I walked towards the file cabinet with anticipation not knowing what to expect. Opening one of the drawers, I began scanning through the files under ‘M,’ searching for Malone’s file. I barely knew anyone here, so I figured Patricia would be a good place to start.
It didn’t take long to find her file, and I quickly returned to my seat to take a closer look. The first page was, as expected, a work profile of Mrs. Malone, detailing her designation and role in the company. What followed were various Task Hour-related documents, along with some personal photos she had attached—probably part of the Task Hour requirement as well.
The photos spanned her life, from her toddler years to her teens, marriage, and the family that followed.
One picture, in particular, stood out: a young Patricia, beaming at the camera, with her husband and two small kids on either side, during what looked like a visit to the cinemas. There was something endearing about the way her motherly qualities shone through even on film, and I couldn’t help but smile.
But then something about the photo triggered an alarm in my mind. At first glance, it seemed perfectly normal—Patricia appearing to be in her mid twenties, flanked by her children. But then it hit me. The film poster in the background—it was for Top Gun: Maverick, a movie that was released barely two years ago.
“How is this even possible?” I whispered in shocked silence. “How could anybody age so quickly in just two years?”
I then frantically turned back the pages to go back to her work profile and checked her birthdate. She was born in 1994, which made her only 5 years older than me!
I became even more alarmed when I came to know she joined the company in 2022, which was hardly two years on the job.
Mrs Malone had turned 30 only this year but in reality looked like she was already pushing mid 50’s.
Suddenly, Mr. Fawkes's call made a chilling amount of sense, and I struggled to suppress my panic.
I hurried back to the cabinet and quickly located Mortimer’s file. As I opened it, my gaze was immediately drawn to his profile. My throat tightened upon seeing his date of birth: 1906.
The black-and-white photo of Mortimer in his early twenties—ruggedly handsome, dressed in a military uniform with a confident smile, perfect teeth, and thick blond hair—made him seem like a completely different person.
By this point, glancing at the mirror—now tainted with an unsettling yellow hue—had become a habit. As I sat there, a wave of anxiety washed over me, and I struggled to make sense of the disturbing information I’d uncovered.
 Part of me wanted to dismiss it as a bad dream or a prank, but I couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something was seriously wrong with Twilight Trust.
Taking a few minutes to compose myself, I realized the only way to find answers now was to investigate the fifth floor. I decided to wait until the Task Hour ended to confront whatever lay ahead.
When the clock finally struck 1:00 AM, I grabbed my coat and headed for the stairs. To my dismay, Mortimer was standing right there, engrossed in conversation with another employee. I quickly turned the corner, avoiding any chance of crossing paths.
I had no patience left to wait, so I headed straight for the elevator. Once inside, I pressed the button for the fifth floor.
As the doors slid shut, my heart pounded with each passing floor, each soft ding of the elevator heightening my growing apprehension.
When the elevator doors opened to the fifth floor, I was greeted by a long, narrow, dimly lit corridor with a sharp right turn at the end. As I stepped out, a peculiar energy filled the air, making the hairs on my arms stand on end.
It felt as if an unseen force was drawing me in, pulling me toward something I couldn’t yet see. But I kept moving forward, each step more deliberate and cautious than the last, my breath shallow with anticipation.
As I approached the turn, I noticed a large nameplate on the wall that read “The Vault.”
Turning the corner, I found myself face-to-face with the largest vault I had ever seen in my life. Just then, a sharp pain shot through my head. I clutched my forehead and noticed my shirt getting stained, as droplets of blood began quickly trickling down my nose.
 As I stood there in shock, trying to stop the bleeding, I felt a sudden hand on my shoulder.
I jerked back in fright, only to see Mortimer standing behind me, staring intently.
Panic surged through me, not because he had caught me trespassing, but because of what was happening to his face. He looked nothing like the Mortimer I knew. Instead, he increasingly started to resemble the old photo I had found of him in the filing cabinet.
Those hollow cheeks and dead set eyes were rapidly being replaced by those of a youthful man with perfect teeth and rich blond hair. I watched in horror as his face seemed to heal and repair on its own, transforming before my very eyes in a matter of moments. And this sent me into an even higher state of panic as I found blood gushing down both my nostrils now.
Mortimer simply grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and started dragging me away from the vault with a firm and unyielding grip. I stumbled backward, barely able to keep my footing as he hauled me back towards the elevator. By this point, the blood from my nose was streaming all over my face.
The bleeding began to subside only when the doors of the elevator finally closed and it started its descent back to the lower floors. But I was quite not done with the horror show since Mortimer began to transform again.
As I lay with my back to the wall, the elevator lights began to suddenly flicker and finally went out, plunging us into total darkness. The only illumination came from the mirror, now glowing a deep shade of yellow, casting an eerie silhouette on his face.
 I watched in terror as his features began to shrivel, as if being devoured by the sands of time. The musty odor around him grew stronger, thickening the air and amplifying my claustrophobia, completely trapping me in the confined space with him.
While I expected to face some serious repercussions for my trespassing, Mortimer watched me slump to the floor with an almost amused expression.
When the elevator doors finally opened on the third floor, he gave a casual wave, as if to say, "You first."
I needed no further encouragement and scrambled out of the elevator and struggled to regain my footing. As I turned around, expecting him to follow me back to my office, he simply stared at me, a smile curling on his lips as the doors closed again and the elevator resumed its descent.
I felt some instant relief to see him not trail behind me and I immediately headed to the restroom to wash off all the blood. I splashed my face with water multiple times, its chillness serving as a welcome distraction on my skin. 
When I slowly opened my eyes and looked in the mirror, I noticed a lock of hair on my head had turned fully white. 
But for some strange reason I didn’t panic anymore. Instead my heart began to steady, its beat gradually slowing to a normal pace, as if ready to accept the reality in front of me. I exited the restroom and walked back to my office.
As I settled into my chair, the events of the last 15 minutes played itself over and over again in my head.
My gaze shifted to the system in front of me, where I saw that I was still marked as ‘On Break’ and that someone from the support team was obviously continuing to cover for me. I leaned forward and took back command of my station.
I then traced the blocked number I had received earlier in the day, and made a return call. The line connected within a couple of rings but the voice on the other end didn’t burst through this time. I was instead met with silence, as if he was waiting for me to make the first move.
“You were right Mr Fawkes ” I said finally leaning into the microphone. ”I saw it for myself. I went all the way up to the fifth floor and saw it with my own eyes.”
“Everything you said was true.” I eventually confessed, hoping for some kind of acknowledgement from the other end. But I was only met with more silence.
“Mr Fawkes are you there?”
“What should I do? How am I supposed to deal with this?” I asked finally, unable to mask the desperation in my voice as the reality of my situation pressed in on all sides.
I expected the voice on the other end to deliberate for a moment before offering a strategy to help me.
Instead, he replied swiftly, “Follow the rules, young man. Follow the rules!”
“And Ryan….”
“Yes?” I responded, holding my breath, hoping for something—anything—that could guide me through the chaos.
“And that would include not picking up my calls in the future,” he added, before the line went dead.
I barely had time to process the call with Mr Fawkes before the phone started ringing again.
I leaned back in my chair, watching the screen light up with multiple inbound calls. I knew they would keep coming until the end of my shift. But oddly enough, I didn’t feel the panic I had earlier.
Now that I understood what I was up against, I could feel my body gradually settling into a determined rhythm—a sense of purpose driving each action, no matter how difficult the path ahead might be. So I went back to work, answering the calls as they came in.
Once my shift was complete, I followed all the rules that were expected of me, including sealing the red cord in a bag. As I turned off the lights in my room, my eyes automatically gravitated toward the mirror on the wall, which had turned a light shade of blue.
While exiting the building, I saw Mortimer seated in his usual place, and broke into his usual smile when he saw me.
“I would like to quit my job. This is not working for me. How can I get in touch with HR?” I asked, looking at him.
Mortimer didn’t look surprised. Instead, he calmly opened a file and handed me a document.
“Fill out this form. I will hand it over to my superiors,” he said, in a matter of fact manner.
As I completed the form and handed it back, I told him, “I’m giving you a month’s notice, as was mandated by the company when I took on this job.”
Mortimer offered no acknowledgment but filed my paperwork in a separate folder.
When I returned for work the following day, Mortimer was already at his post. In fact he had an update ready for me.
"Congratulations, Mr. Lockwood. The management has approved your request. However, they’ve extended your notice period by four weeks," he said, sounding sympathetic as he placed a newly printed document on the desk.
"But why?" I asked, my frustration mounting.
“Let me check,” Mortimer replied, licking his lips as he retrieved another document from a separate folder.
“The extension is due to penalties incurred during your time on the job. One extra week for picking up a call from a blocked number. Another week for tracing and dialing the same blocked number. And two weeks for trespassing.”
“Normally, trespassing alone would result in an eight-week penalty, but since you’re new and still learning, the management felt they should go easy on you,” he finished, breaking into a warm smile.
I stared at him in disbelief but I wasn’t really surprised at the development. Not anymore. All I could think of were Patricia’s final words about “following the rules.” I closed my eyes for a moment, then nodded in agreement and turned to walk toward the entrance.
“Mr. Lockwood,” Mortimer’s voice rang out, stopping me in my tracks.
“I need you to sign this document to confirm you’re in agreement with the new terms over the extension,”he said, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “This is a professionally run company, you see. We need to adhere to our protocols.”
I simply nodded and signed the document before handing it back to him.
“Thank you Mr Lockwood,” he responded as he carefully placed the signed paper in the folder and closed it with a decisive snap.
With that, I quickly turned and walked past him, my mind still reeling from everything that just happened. But it only strengthened my resolve to see this through to the end.
Over the next few weeks, I became more focused and determined than ever. I followed the rules meticulously, completing my tasks with precision and keeping a wary eye on anything unusual. It was then that I truly understood why the other employees on the floor all behaved in a similar manner.
Everyone was doing their best to conserve their energy, moving through their tasks with a quiet, almost mechanical efficiency. They consciously tried to avoid stressful situations that could lead to unnecessary energy expenditure, especially during the Task Hour.
But that was easier said than done because the Task Hour was designed to activate those triggers—but that didn’t mean you shouldn’t try. Keeping your heartbeat steady was a key ingredient for long-term survival at Twilight Trust.
It also became clear why friendships were scarce and confiding in one another was avoided—emotional attachments could become liabilities if someone ended up in a bad situation at the workplace.
It could happen today, tomorrow, or even two months from now; you never know.
So, 'every man for himself' seemed to be the unspoken mantra going around.
However, as I moved into my eighth and final week at the company, the paranoia began to take hold. I found myself constantly glancing over my shoulder, feeling the weight of unseen eyes, which made me double-check and triple-check everything.
The tension mounted with each passing day, as if I was bracing for an unseen blow that would force me to start all over again. With only three days left on my notice, my heart nearly stopped when I saw Mortimer ambling around my office as I returned from the restroom.
He was holding a file in his hand and flashed a weird smile as he walked past me. I wasn’t sure if he had stopped by my office or was simply attending to some other work. I immediately rushed to my desk and started checking if everything was in place.
The red cord with my name printed on it was where it was supposed to be. The cinnamon powder sprinkled around the entrance was undisturbed. The portrait on the wall, the filing cabinet, the glass of water and the leather-bound journal—everything was in its place. Even the cuckoo clock was ticking away, its time in sync with both my watch and the system.
But then my gaze landed on the little figurine. It had been moved. It was supposed to be facing me during the shift, but now it was slightly turned to face the computer.
 “You sneaky little bugger,” I muttered under my breath, cursing Mortimer with a few choice words. I carefully moved the figurine back to its correct position and slowly sat down, double-checking everything again for my own peace of mind.
Finally, I glanced at the clock—it had just turned 11:20 PM. Taking a deep breath, I regained my composure, took command of my station, and resumed taking calls.
After processing over 20 calls, I took a moment to stretch and glanced at the clock again. It read 11:45 PM. My eyes immediately shifted to the new call flashing on my screen awaiting my attention.
 “These things don’t stop do they? I’ll just take a couple more before getting ready for Task Hour” I sighed to myself. I hit connect and answered the call.
 “Welcome to Twilight Trust. This is Ryan. How can I assist you today?” I asked, speaking into the microphone.
“Good evening. My name is Gavin, I am looking to open an account for myself.”
“Certainly sir. Can I have your full name please?” I responded
“Gavin…… Jeremiah…… Lockwood.”
I suddenly froze as I felt the blood drain from my face. That was supposed to be my full name.
My mind raced as I struggled to maintain my composure. “Could you please repeat that?” I asked, trying to steady my voice.
“Gavin Jeremiah Lockwood,” the caller responded calmly.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus. “Thank you, Mr. Lockwood. Could you please provide your date of birth and place of residence?”
There was a brief pause on the other end, and then the caller responded, “April 14th, 1999. 425 Evergreen Terrace”
A cold sweat formed on my brow as I stared at the screen, not only because he had just recited my exact details—down to the address where I grew up, but also due to my realization that a timer had activated on screen. 
Meanwhile the time on the system clock showed 12:01 AM.
The Task Hour had just been initiated without my knowledge, and now I can’t disconnect until the timer runs its course.
With my heart pounding away in my chest, my head slowly turned towards the cuckoo clock on the wall. The bird didn’t come out and chime this time. Instead the clock hands simply pointed at 11:50 PM. Clearly the clock had stopped working some time ago.
“Perhaps you should check the bin next to you…” I heard the voice speak softly from the other end, as if volunteering himself to clear the confusion.
I hesitated for a moment but knelt down to retrieve the bin placed below my desk, wondering what I would find inside. As I rummaged through it, I pulled out the discarded wrapper of a pack of two red batteries that I had removed at the start of the shift. But to my horror, the very same red batteries were still inside the bin, as if I had never used them.
Alongside them was another wrapper for two blue batteries, which I had never seen before. That’s when it hit me—Mortimer had switched the batteries while I was on my break. Moving the figurine had been a distraction, a sleight of hand to cover up the real deception!
 “Who are you? What do you want with me? And why are you calling me using my name?” I finally demanded, desperately trying to keep the fear from seeping into my voice.
The line crackled briefly before the voice on the other end responded, smooth and composed. “Hello Gavin, I am Mr. Ernie Finch, the CEO of Twilight Trust.”
“Do you see that figurine near your computer?” he continued. “I’m the same man—or at least, I used to be…” His voice trailed off, distant and reflective, as if lost in memories of a different time.
“What do you want with me?” I finally asked, struggling to keep my mounting frustration in check.
“Come on, Gavin. I want you to continue working for me. I’ve been impressed with your performance these past few weeks, and I think you’re becoming a valuable part of Twilight Trust. Why else do you think we’re having this conversation?”
“Why did you call using my name?” I asked again, more insistent this time.
“Well, Gavin, I like to think of myself as someone who truly cares about his employees. So, I make an effort to step into their shoes—to live a day or two in their world, so that I can understand them better.”
“I believe it helps me connect with them on a deeper level, giving me a unique insight into their lives.”
“Wait, what?” I stammered, leaning forward in my chair. “What exactly do you mean by that?” I asked, as a cold dread started to creep up my spine.
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” the voice suggested smoothly. “Go and check your folder in the filing cabinet.
“Go on Gavin, it’s the Task Hour after all,” he added, as I deliberated on it.
I approached the cabinet slowly, dragging my feet, uncertain of what I would find. With a quick motion, I opened the cabinet and removed my file. This time it looked and felt different.
Opening the file, I was surprised to discover that all the previous task-related documents were gone. In their place was a single iPad. My heart raced as I hurried back to my seat and powered it on. The screen flickered to life, displaying only one app—no labels, just a pulsating icon.
With a deep breath, I tapped it and it opened a folder that contained many videos and photographs. They were infrared images of my home, both inside and out. I saw pictures of my brother and sister sleeping soundly at night, completely unaware of the intrusion. My blood ran cold as I stared at the photos, feeling utterly helpless.
I clicked on the videos and immediately saw Mr. Finch for the first time, standing outside my house. He was a tall man, around 6'5", his figure clearly visible with his back to the camera. He wore a utility belt around his waist, just like the one Mortimer wears at the bank.
As he turned to face the camera, he adjusted a knob on his belt and began to slowly dissolve into the air. He would have been almost invisible, except for a faint outline the camera managed to capture in the grainy footage.
Finch then entered my home with his camera and found my sister Kylie asleep on the couch in the living room. He dropped a small rock on the floor, jolting her awake. She immediately pulled out a kitchen knife from under her pillow, her face pale with fear as she waved it around in the air aimlessly. 
But Finch was already behind her, spraying a solution from a bottle he carried. Kylie slowly sank back into the couch, gradually losing consciousness.
He then carried the camera with him as he toured my home, carefully looking at the photographs on the wall of my family, including the ones with mom and dad.
Next, he entered my room and began sifting through all my belongings. He rifled through my wardrobe, pulling clothes from the closet at random before putting them back. His eyes lit up when he discovered my box of journals, stashed under the floorboard in my cupboard. He placed it on the bed and continued to scan the room.
He examined the photographs on my bedside table, lingering over the smiles captured in the frames, then moved to the books on my shelf, perusing my eclectic choices in fiction. Even the new bottle of cologne I’d left on the table caught his eye—he dabbed a bit on his wrist and inhaled deeply, savoring the scent as if it held secrets of its own.
He wasn’t just looking; he was studying. Each item he touched, from the souvenir on my desk—a small snow globe from a trip to the mountains—to the signed jersey of my favorite athlete framed on the wall, seemed to offer him insights into my world. It was as if he were learning about me through my belongings—my interests, my habits, my life—all laid bare for him to piece together.
Next, he moved to the bathroom. He took my toothbrush, ran his thumb against the bristles, and then, without hesitation, began brushing his own teeth with it. 
Clearly, the CEO of Twilight Trust had no concept of personal space or oral hygiene.
Mr. Finch eventually returned to my bedroom, lay down on my bed, and started reading my journals, one by one.
The next video I clicked on, showed him bent over, rummaging through the refrigerator and slowly pulling out ingredients. I watched as he prepared sandwiches in the kitchen while my sister remained fast asleep on the nearby couch. He neatly packed the sandwiches into bags and placed them on the kitchen table.
Then, he sat next to Kylie on the couch and leaned back on the cushions to relax. My jaw dropped as I watched myself enter the house 20 minutes later, waking Kylie up while Mr. Finch simply watched, seated just a couple of feet away.
He observed from the side-lines as I moved from room to room, packing their bags getting them ready for school. Mr. Finch even stood next to me on the lawn, waving alongside me as Kevin and Kylie climbed aboard the school bus.
I finally switched off the tablet; I didn’t need to watch anymore. I was already sick to my stomach. They had been watching me, tracking my every move, and now it was all being laid out in front of me.
 “What now?” I asked bluntly, feeling the anger rise in my chest. “Is this how you are going to get me to work for you? By indirectly threatening to bring harm to my family?”
The line crackled with a chilling silence before Mr. Finch’s voice returned, smooth and unbothered.
“Well, I hope it doesn’t have to come to that Gavin. It’s not like your hands are tied, and you don’t have a way out of here.”
“Are the conditions a little hard to follow? Yes, maybe.”
“Is there a bit of subterfuge going on here and there? Also yes.”
“But you can still make it out of here in one piece, Gavin. You saw that happen on the very first day you joined here, when Mrs Malone won her freedom. You do remember that right?”
“So what makes you think you can’t do the same?” Mr Finch asked me, in a matter of fact manner.
“At what cost Mr Finch? You want me to give away my youth for this place?” I asked exasperated.
“Just a bit of it, yes, but how much we take is entirely up to you,” Finch chimed in trying to sound reasonable.
My voice faltered as I lowered my head, feeling my shoulders slump in resignation. With no clear escape in sight, I finally looked up and asked, “What is the point of all this, Mr. Finch? What exactly are you trying to achieve?”
“Aah Gavin, I am glad you asked. But first let’s take a detour and delve into my own personal life before we can get back to answering your question. Trust me, you would be wise to hear me out. I think this will help you out in the long run.”
As he spoke, my eyes drifted to the timer on the screen—less than 7 minutes remained. I shuddered, wondering what awaited me as the clock ticked down.
“You see Gavin, in another lifetime I used to run a thriving casino business in Vegas which made me a very wealthy man. One crucial aspect of my success which made me stand apart from my competitors was my understanding of the human psyche” Mr. Finch continued, his voice laced with a mix of pride and nostalgia. "I knew how to tap into the deepest desires, fears, and motivations of people.”
“While others focused on the surface - offering flashy lights and big payouts—I devised methods to make patrons stay longer at the casino, to feel as if they were on an endless vacation. From incorporating structural changes on the gaming floor to releasing pheromones and exotic scents into the atmosphere, I pioneered techniques that are now standard in the industry.”
“I brought the same level of expertise to Twilight Trust. I study each employee meticulously—what makes them tick, what disturbs them, and how I can use that to influence their actions and emotions. Why else do you think I tolerate people like Mr Fawkes?”
“You tolerate him?” I responded, in disbelief.
“Of course. Someone like him is a useful idiot to have on your side. He might believe his actions are genuinely helping people, which isn’t entirely untrue. A few individuals do wake up and turn things around thanks to his intervention. However, the majority only sink deeper into the chaos because they’re not prepared to confront the truth all at once.”
Mr. Finch’s tone shifted suddenly, becoming grave and reflective.
 “You know, Gavin, everything was running smoothly in my life as a Casino boss. Until one day when a crazy woman shot me dead simply because I broke her boyfriend’s legs for counting cards in my shop.”
“What followed wasn’t pretty. I wandered as a spirit for years—lost, angry, and bitter—until I encountered someone not far from here.”
“Care to take a guess?” he asked, pausing to let the suspense build before continuing.
“It’s our very own Mortimer, of course,” Mr. Finch answered himself, not bothering to wait for my reply.
“Mortimer was the unwitting casualty of a secret experiment gone wrong in the early ’30s. The government had seized alien equipment buried deep underground in the canyons, capable of transferring life energies between different mediums. But back then, we didn’t have the technology to harness it properly.”
“So when I heard about the existence of such technology, it ignited a fire in me that couldn’t be extinguished. I devoted every effort to uncovering more about it.”
“You know, Gavin, one of the perks of being in spirit form is the freedom it grants. I could go anywhere—even into the most secure government facilities—without anyone realizing. I could haunt and disturb those connected to this technology for days or weeks, until they inevitably led me right to it.”
“Eventually, I even managed to convince the Paranormal Sciences Division to green-light the project again. We assembled some of the best minds from around the world, each a genius in their field. It took us three decades to see results, but it was worth every moment, don’t you think?”
“So you’re saying Twilight Trust has direct government support?” I asked, flabbergasted.
“Of course. Who else do you think appointed me as its CEO? It was their way of rewarding me for my role in bringing this project to fruition.”
“But what is the point of all this, Mr. Finch? What exactly do you hope to achieve?” I asked again, struggling to see the bigger picture.
“Patience, Gavin, I’m getting there. When I entered the spirit world, I encountered countless beings like myself—souls stuck here on Earth, unable to move on. Each of them was bound by some unfulfilled desire, a deep yearning that anchored them to this realm.
“It could be a trader betrayed by his partner, a wife murdered by her husband, or a father who couldn’t rest because he was worried about the family he left behind, who were struggling financially after his death. The reasons varied, but the result was the same—they hovered, restless, until their needs were somehow met.”
"This is where we come in. We offer them what they need—whether it’s financial aid or a temporary body to accomplish their unfinished business. But there's a catch: before we fulfill their desires, they must first do our bidding. In time, they become assets for the government itself. It doesn’t matter who’s in power—these spirits are in high demand. Whether it’s taking out a troublesome leader or carrying out covert operations on foreign soil, these souls are invaluable."
“Think about it, Gavin. What could be more effective than an agent who can disappear like a puff of smoke once the job is finished?”
"And why do you think these entities are flocking to our bank to open accounts? They have unfinished business, and they’re more than willing to lend a hand to the government if it means finally achieving their own goals.”
 “Now do you understand why we need people like you working for us?” Mr Finch asked, his voice tinged with excitement.
I could feel my head spinning, the weight of everything he’d revealed pressing down on me. The timer was also winding down with only 3 minutes left on the clock. It did not go unnoticed by Mr Finch either.
“I guess we are coming to the end of our conversation, and you have a decision to make, Gavin. Do you agree to an extension in your notice period in our company?”
“ I need a verbal commitment from you right now,’ he said.
"What if I say no?" I asked, in an act of sudden defiance hoping to sound braver than I felt.
There was a chilling silence on the other end before Mr. Finch spoke again. “Why don’t you turn on the iPad again, Gavin?” he said, his tone now dead serious.
I fumbled my way through it and powered it on. The previous icon that contained the photographs and videos had disappeared, replaced instead by another new icon which seemed to look like it was a live stream. I clicked on it even as I felt a pit form in my stomach.
The screen flickered to life, showing Mr. Finch sitting on a couch in my sister Kylie’s room. She slept soundly, unaware of the intruder next to her. He held a kitchen knife in one hand, the same one Kylie had hid under her pillow in a previous video.
Finch was casually testing its sharpness with the finger of his other hand. My heart raced as I scrambled to call Kylie’s phone, but I watched helplessly as it buzzed uselessly beside her on the live feed.
All this while he was speaking to me sitting in my own house!
Panic overtook me. I bolted from my seat and tried to open the office door, but it wouldn’t budge. I was trapped, blinded by fear. On the screen, Mr. Finch remained calm, and ordered me to return to my seat. Reluctantly, I obeyed, glancing at the timer—less than a minute left.
 “Don’t worry, Gavin,” Finch said, his voice unnervingly calm. “Your sister is fast asleep, and I won’t hurt her. Not today, at least. But I want you to understand the options at my disposal.
“Once you're out of the picture—and I’ll personally make sure of that—I’ll unleash my clients like a pack of hounds to terrorize your siblings in their own home. Think of it as on-the-job training for my boys before they graduate to the real stuff.”
“Now, have you really thought about what would happen to your family during the month or two they decide to stick around? They would be tormented day and night at every turn. Do you honestly think your siblings could survive that ordeal, Gavin?”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “I can tell you right now—they wouldn’t last a week. By the end of it, they’ll be spending the rest of their days in a madhouse.”
Finch paused, letting the tension thicken. “Or, if I’m feeling really generous, I could have you sent to prison on trumped-up charges, and when your siblings reach adulthood, I’ll hire them myself. And the cycle begins all over again. Do you see where this is headed?”
I nodded frantically as a paralyzing fear gripped me.
“So, do I have your consent for an extension on your notice period?”
 I nodded desperately.
“I need a verbal commitment, Gavin,” he pressed.
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” I stammered.
 “Excellent,” Mr. Finch replied, satisfaction evident in his voice. “I always knew you were reasonable.”
Finch then moved directly in front of the camera until only his face was visible and continued speaking.
“And remember, Gavin, always follow the rules. Don’t let people like me or Mortimer ever get in your way.”
The call abruptly ended as the timer hit zero.
I slumped back in my chair, overwhelmed, when Line 7 buzzed in my office phone for the first time, and Mortimer’s voice broke the silence. “Mr. Lockwood?”
“Yes,” I responded, wiping sweat from my brow.
“I gather your conversation with Mr. Finch went well. Congratulations. According to the new terms, you’re required to work another four months at Twilight Trust. Is that acceptable?”
“Isn’t it supposed to be only two?” I asked, my heart rate starting to climb again. 
“Breaking the rules during Task Hour is a serious infraction,” Mortimer replied. “Plus, you’re no longer a newbie. Four months is required. If you agree, I’ll bring the paperwork right away.”
“Yes,” I replied back after a moment, no longer willing to drag this out. 
“And there is one other thing. Do you consent to share the contents of your file with future employees of Twilight Trust. Your consent is vital here Mr Lockwood. We have protocols to adhere to here.”
I agreed once more and ended the call.
As I sank back into my chair, a hundred thoughts raced through my mind. I worried about my future, my family, and when I’d ever escape this nightmare.
Yet, despite everything, I didn’t feel the urge to glance at the mirror in my office this time. Instead, my eyes drifted to the little portrait on the wall to my right.
The wasp that was perched on the twig was no longer there—it had now become fossilized, encased in a glowing ball of amber.
Ananth Ram