No Exit (Topic 2)

[u/Wonfram_Tungsten]

Topic 2: Welcome to Dr. Places

Newman stood beside the desk, staring at the computer. The green letters remained perfectly still against the dark screen. PLEASE WAIT HERE. The small smiley beneath them looked as if it had been drawn by someone who had never seen a real smile.

A low hum came from somewhere behind the walls.

Then the static changed.

It became quieter, settling into a thin, continuous hiss. Beneath it, Newman heard a soft mechanical click, followed by another. Something inside the ceiling speaker seemed to struggle to wake up. He tilted his head toward it, waiting for a voice, an alarm, or at least an explanation of where he was.

Instead, music began to play.

It was a short, gentle melody, carried by an old recording. A few bright notes rose and fell over a simple accompaniment, slightly out of tune. The sound had a distant, hollow quality, as though it had travelled through several generations of tape recorders before reaching him. Every few seconds, a faint crackle interrupted the music. Somewhere beneath the melody, a steady hiss remained.

It was not frightening music. That was what made it strange.

It sounded like the introduction to a safety video, the sort that might be played in a school assembly or a public waiting room. It belonged to a world where people sat in orderly rows, listened to announcements, and expected to return home at the end of the day.

Newman glanced around the room again. There were no chairs, no windows, no doors, and no other people. The desk and computer were the only objects that suggested the room had been prepared for human use.

The melody reached its final few notes. A soft pop sounded through the speaker, followed by a brief silence.

Then a man began to speak.

"Good day."

The voice was deep and unmistakably human, but it sounded old in a way that had nothing to do with the age of the speaker. The man's words were rounded and heavy, as if his mouth were close to the microphone. His voice carried a low, hollow resonance, with a rough edge that made certain syllables rasp against one another. The recording crackled around his consonants, occasionally swallowing the beginning or end of a word.

"Good day, and welcome."

Newman moved closer to the speaker.

"Welcome to Dr. Places."

The man paused. A faint click sounded in the background, followed by a burst of static that faded almost immediately.

"My name is Dr. Places. If you are hearing this announcement, you have arrived at a location where the usual rules of travel, navigation, and personal safety may no longer apply."

Newman frowned.

"Dr. Places?"

He looked toward the computer as if the screen might clarify the statement. The message had not changed. PLEASE WAIT HERE.

The voice continued in the same measured tone, neither hurried nor particularly concerned. It sounded like someone reading from a prepared script, perhaps one he had read many times before.

"First, please remain calm. You may be confused, disoriented, or uncertain about your present circumstances. These reactions are normal. Please do not attempt to leave your current shelter until you have received further instructions."

Newman looked behind him.

There was still no door.

He turned slowly, examining the blank walls. The light above him flickered once, then returned to its steady glow. He pressed his palm against the nearest wall. It was solid, cool, and slightly rough beneath his fingertips.

"Your current shelter has been provided for your temporary safety. It is important that you understand the instructions contained in this recording before proceeding any further."

A thin line of static passed through the speaker. The man's voice wavered, growing briefly lower before returning to its previous pitch.

"Please listen carefully. The following precautions are mandatory."

The music returned, quieter this time. It played a few notes beneath the announcement, giving the words the peculiar solemnity of an official broadcast.

"Precaution number one. Do not leave your shelter after two o'clock in the morning."

Newman stared at the speaker.

The man continued without hesitation.

"After two a.m, the surrounding environment may become unsafe for reasons that are not immediately apparent. If you are still outside your shelter when this time approaches, find the nearest suitable place of refuge. Do not continue your journey merely because your destination appears to be close."

A small click interrupted the recording.

"Please do not assume that a familiar-looking location is necessarily safe. Follow your assigned directions, and seek shelter before the stated time."

Newman swallowed.

Two in the morning.

He had no idea what time it was. He had no phone in his hands, and he could not remember whether he had been wearing a watch before the fall. Even if he had one, he was no longer certain it would tell him anything useful.

He looked at the computer again. Its green screen cast a faint reflection on the desk.

PLEASE WAIT HERE.

"Precaution number two. Do not initiate conversation with any creature encountered after seven o'clock in the evening."

The word creature sounded especially unpleasant in the man's rough, bass-heavy voice. It emerged through the speaker with a brief burst of distortion, making the final syllables sound almost doubled.

"Should you encounter a creature after seven p.m., do not approach it. Do not answer questions, respond to greetings, or attempt to establish communication, regardless of its apparent condition or behaviour."

Newman felt the skin along his arms tighten.

The recording did not describe what these creatures looked like. It did not explain where they came from or why talking to them might be dangerous. The man simply continued reading, as though he were reminding passengers to keep their hands inside a moving vehicle.

"Some encounters may appear harmless. You may hear your name. You may be addressed in a familiar voice. You may be offered assistance or asked for directions. These circumstances do not constitute a reason to disregard this precaution."

Newman stopped breathing for a moment.

His name.

He glanced at the empty corners of the room, then at the ceiling. Nothing moved. Nothing answered him. Only the old speaker continued to hiss softly between sentences.

The man cleared his throat. The sound was faint but unmistakably human, preserved by the recording with an uncomfortable intimacy.

"Please remember: a familiar voice does not necessarily indicate a familiar person."

The melody continued beneath the words.

Newman took a step away from the speaker.

"Precaution number three. Do not deviate from your assigned directions."

The announcement became slightly louder, perhaps because the music had faded. The recording's rough texture remained constant, but the man's voice seemed more deliberate now, each word delivered with careful emphasis.

"You may be provided with a route, a destination, and a series of navigational instructions. Follow them in the order given. Do not take shortcuts. Do not enter an unlisted passage simply because it appears to lead in the correct direction. Do not substitute personal judgement for the instructions provided by the designated navigation system."

A brief, dry crackle sounded through the speaker.

"Should your route appear unusual, continue to follow the assigned directions unless you are explicitly instructed otherwise."

Newman looked toward the floor.

For one terrible second, he remembered the moment he had fallen from the roller coaster. The ground rushing toward him. The impact that should have broken his body. The impossible instant when the surface had stopped being a surface, and he had passed through it as if the world had forgotten that he was supposed to remain above it.

He pressed his fingers against his forehead.

This was a recording. It was only a recording. Someone had placed a computer in a room and recorded a man reading a set of instructions. There had to be a rational explanation for at least part of what he was hearing.

He tried to hold on to that thought.

"Precaution number four. A navigation system will be made available to you."

A soft electronic tone sounded. Newman turned toward the desk just as the computer screen blinked.

For a fraction of a second, the green message disappeared.

The screen went black.

Then the words returned.

PLEASE WAIT HERE.

The speaker continued.

"The navigation system is intended to assist you in identifying your current position and following your assigned route. Please consult it whenever you are uncertain about your location."

The man's voice crackled. For a moment, it sounded as if the recording were slowing down, dragging the vowels into longer, heavier shapes. Then it stabilised.

"However, electronic navigation may occasionally become unavailable, display incorrect information, or fail to update your position accurately."

Newman leaned toward the computer.

"Should such a malfunction occur, do not continue to rely on the electronic display. Instead, consult the physical map provided for this purpose. Use the map to verify your position and determine the correct route before proceeding."

There was a short pause.

"Please ensure that you understand how to read the physical map before beginning your journey. It is intended as a backup navigation method and should remain available even when electronic assistance is not functioning correctly."

The announcement ended that section with a small, almost cheerful click.

Newman stared at the computer.

A navigation system. A physical map. An assigned route.

Someone had prepared a procedure for people who arrived here. Not just a procedure, either. The instructions seemed to assume that he would leave this room, travel somewhere, encounter things he should not speak to, and find shelter before two in the morning.

The recording had not once suggested that he might be able to return the way he came.

He looked back at the blank wall where he had expected to find the place he fell through. He could still remember the amusement park, the metal tracks, the sudden release of the harness. He could almost hear the distant screams of the other passengers.

But there was nothing behind the wall.

Only the faint electrical hum.

"Thank you for your attention."

The man's voice softened slightly, taking on the polite warmth of someone concluding a routine presentation.

"We understand that your arrival may have been unexpected. Please be assured that the procedures outlined in this recording are intended to help you remain safe while you familiarise yourself with your surroundings."

The music rose a little in volume. Its melody was gentle and strangely old-fashioned, almost pleasant when heard in isolation.

"You are encouraged to remain patient, follow the instructions provided, and avoid unnecessary risks. Further guidance will be made available when appropriate."

Another click.

"Once again, welcome to Dr. Places."

The man paused.

"Please remain where you are."

The music played on for a few seconds, repeating its simple melody. Then it stopped abruptly, leaving behind a long, thin hiss.

Newman waited.

He expected another announcement. Perhaps a final instruction, or a signal that would tell him what to do next. He waited for the voice to return, for the computer to display a new message, for a door to appear in one of the walls.

Nothing happened.

The silence lasted long enough for him to become aware of his own breathing.

Then the speaker clicked again.

"Your orientation is now complete."

The man's voice sounded exactly as it had before. Deep, rough, and human. There was no threat in it, no anger, no hint that he was aware of Newman's fear.

"Please wait for further instructions."

A soft pop followed.

The recording ended.

Newman remained motionless beside the desk.

The computer's green letters glowed in front of him.

PLEASE WAIT HERE.

He read them once. Then again.

The message was simple. The instructions had been simple, too. Do not leave after two in the morning. Do not speak to creatures after seven in the evening. Follow the assigned route. Use a physical map if the navigation system fails.

They sounded like rules written by someone who knew exactly what could happen if they were ignored.

And that was what frightened him most.

The voice had not sounded like a monster. It had not sounded like a machine pretending to be human. It had sounded like a tired man recording a routine announcement in a small studio, speaking into an old microphone while the tape rolled.

A man who had known what to warn people about.

Newman slowly backed away from the desk. His eyes moved from the screen to the walls, searching for any sign that the room had changed while he was listening.

It had not.

The fluorescent light still hummed overhead. The walls remained bare. The computer continued to display the same message, its green letters flickering almost imperceptibly against the black screen.

He wanted to leave.

He wanted to find a door, run through it, and keep running until he reached the amusement park, the road, or any place that belonged to the world he remembered.

But the recording had told him to wait.

And for the first time since the fall, Newman had no idea whether disobeying an instruction was more dangerous than following it.

He looked at the computer one last time.

Then he sat down beside the desk and waited.