William didn't sleep much.
He stayed on the couch most of the night, the TV on low just for the noise, his journal open on the table in front of him. He must've read the same line a dozen times.
(This wasn't the location of the site yesterday.)
Every time he looked at it, he expected it to feel dramatic. Wrong in a way he could point at and explain. But it didn't. It just sat there. Flat. Like a normal sentence that didn't belong to anything real.
The office felt warmer than usual, or maybe he was just too aware of everything. The lights hummed overhead, steady and quiet, and people moved around like they always did—coffee, paperwork, conversations that didn't matter. No one looked at him twice.
That almost made it worse.
Roland's door was already open.
"How'd that revision go William, I trust no more mistakes"
"None sir, but--"
"But what, you fixed the street name just an error, but if you make me look like an idiot Infront of the mayor again you know they'll be consequences."
William showed himself out with his head hung low, maybe he was wrong streets dont just move.
But something still didn't feel right.
William went home after finished what little work he had when he felt his phone buzz again
Roland.
Fuck
"Ive got you an assignment I know you're not on call but you owe me. Its down by cedar in the southern part of town. Big brick building you cant miss it, their installing a new elevator"
"Roland I know maps and buildings, im not licensed to work on machinery like that"
"Listen just go there and make sure they dont kill themselves this is their first job in our city and max doesnt trust them"
-He hangs up
Fuck
"Its 3pm on a Saturday and their installing and elevator, well I guess we are installing an elevator now, dammit Roland..."
He headed to cedar street and the big brick building, right where it was supposed to be.
He went in it was a cold building with a gust of wind coming from everywhere and there was a crew of 4 men, they looked sturdy and strong, like youd expect.
"Hey there amigo!"
A portly man rushes up to him and excitedly interduces himself as Michael, he has an accent not Mexican, not Spanish but almost French which sounds weird coming out of his mouth.
"Hello im William, construction inspection, this normally falls out of my jurisdiction but I trust that wont be a problem Michael."
"No problema, Those are the workers over there (he says as he points to the 4 large men) you are more then welcome to inspect us amigo."
"Yeah, I'll be on my way then… thanks."
William stepped past him, boots echoing faintly against the concrete floor as he moved toward the open shaft. The building felt wrong in a different way than the site yesterday. Not stretched. Not compressed.
Just… hollow.
Like the air didn't settle.
The elevator shaft cut straight up through the center of the building, a clean vertical line of raw concrete and exposed steel. Temporary lights hung down inside, swaying slightly even though there wasn't enough wind to move them. The cables were already in place, taut and perfectly aligned.
Too perfectly aligned.
William crouched near the edge, setting his bag down and pulling out his tape measure. He hooked it carefully along the lip of the opening, letting it drop.
The tape slid down.
And down.
He frowned.
This building wasn't tall enough for that.
He stopped the tape, locked it, and checked the number.
Then looked up.
Counted floors.
One.
Two.
Three.
He let the tape retract slowly, the metal whispering as it climbed back toward him.
He tried again.
Same result.
Exact.
William stood there for a second longer than he meant to.
"Everything look good?" Michael called from behind him.
William didn't answer right away.
"Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, I'm just… checking depth."
Michael laughed lightly. "Deep hole, no? They say elevator go smooth when shaft is straight." He winks
William nodded ignoring the man, his eyes stayed on the opening.
Straight wasn't the problem.
It was too straight.
He stepped back and pulled the blueprint from his bag, flipping it open with cold fingers. The shaft dimensions were clearly marked. Height. Depth. Clearance.
Everything matched what he'd just measured.
Perfectly.
William stared at the page, then back at the shaft.
Then, slowly, he leaned forward again and dropped the tape a third time.
This time, he didn't look at the numbers.
He listened.
The tape should've hit bottom by now.
It didn't.
A tight feeling settled in his chest.
Not panic.
Not yet.
Just something that didn't fit.
William straightened and reached into his bag again, this time pulling out a piece of red chalk. He turned it over in his fingers for a second, thinking.
If this was wrong—
If something here didn't line up—
Then it shouldn't stay consistent.
Right?
He stepped forward and crouched at the edge of the shaft, pressing the chalk firmly against the concrete lip.
A single vertical line.
Clean. Deliberate. About six inches long.
He paused, then added a small horizontal notch through the center—something precise. Something he'd recognize instantly.
He pulled out his phone and took a photo.
Then opened his journal.
(3:18 PM — Cedar Street. Red chalk mark placed on north edge of elevator shaft. Vertical line, six inches, center notch.)
He underlined it once.
Carefully.
William closed the journal and stood there a moment longer, staring at the mark.
It looked… normal.
Like it belonged there.
That bothered him more than anything else.
End of chapter 2