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“God… I hate it here. I hate it so much,” [PROTAG] whined. He didn't usually let his thoughts spill out like this, but he was ridiculously tired. Perhaps that made him more emotional than usual. That had to be it. He felt like he was gonna burst into tears at any moment.
“Shush! They have us on camera,” [COWORKER] grumbled, even though no cameras were in sight. He resisted the urge to reach for the cigarette in his pocket. He knew the newbie wouldn't like being trapped in a box with smoke.
“What's up with you today? You're acting all… female,” the blonde said. He made a gesture in his general direction. “Did someone die, or did you not have breakfast?”
[PROTAG] groaned, sitting up off the wall and standing on his own two feet. He winced at the bodily pain he was in. Slumping against a gross elevator wall for over ten minutes didn't help his already aching back. He could use a massage. But he couldn't afford one. Fucking assholes. He didn't even know who he was insulting; he just wanted to insult anyone. Good thing he had someone in front of him so he didn't have to kick himself mentally like always.
“I had breakfast,” he muttered, picking at his nails. “And for the record, I'd like it if you stopped talking and helped. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm tired, and I can't turn in these files if we're stuck here! And I don't wanna die again…”
[PROTAG] swore that he had tears in his eyes, and he sank to the floor in despair. He felt like a mess, even though nothing had happened yet. He just felt terrified of the anticipated pain. Who knows what could be on these floors? Sharks? Lava? Killers? Heights? An empty void where nothing existed but he could still feel his fears all around him as they slowly consumed him and his mind? The possibilities were endless. And that wasn't a good thing.
“C'mon, everyone does it!” [COWORKER] said in return. He walked over to him, holding out a hand to help him up. “You haven't even started yet. And I find it almost creepy that we're always shoved together like this…” he muttered the last part to himself.
He looked up at him with tired eyes, glancing down at the hand that wanted to help. [PROTAG] felt a flash of anger, but he waited for it to disintegrate before saying anything. He looked up at him once more, grabbing his hand and allowing himself to be hoisted to his feet. But he definitely kept his grip on his colleague's hand for a little too long. The man was just so warm, and the intern would love to put his face into his chest and lay there-
[PROTAG] shook his head. “Yeah… I'll get started,” he grumbled. He pulled his hand away and wiped his eyes with the other one, despite there not even being flowing tears.
“Atta boy,” the other said with a small smile. [PROTAG] insulted him in his head.
He had just been trying to get to his floor before the elevator did its thing again. He had a permanent fear of elevators thanks to this job. The cleaning wasn't so bad, not even when he had to clean floors he'd never seen before. He'd never died then. It was just when he had to do… whatever the fuck this was.
[PROTAG] walked over to the elevator buttons and pressed five. He'd come to learn in the month he'd been working here that it didn't matter where he started. Nothing mattered, really. Sure, he'd been shocked half to death his first few weeks, but it was quickly becoming all null and anxiety-inducing. How many surprises can you really have when you know most of them will end in death? He'd started to be surprised less and less, though it was still strange he was always with his co-worker. (Whose name he had yet to learn…)
Ding-dong...
The elevator made the familiar noise it did, and the doors shakily opened to a room. He'd never get used to the spike in adrenaline before his next adventure was revealed.
The doors opened to reveal a room. It was quite the small room, but it wasn't any sort of cubicle or familiar room. The room had wooden floors that looked nicely cleaned, and there was even a window on the side. The window didn't show light, and it seemed to be made for show. There was a singular, soft light on the ceiling that was already turned on, and there were obviously fake plants in clay pots on the coffee table near a red, worn couch.
The place couldn't be much bigger than his bedroom at home, yet it was filled to the brim with items. Decor, paintings, and light yellow paint lined the walls. There was even a soft fuzzy carpet below the couch. It looked like a well-decorated living room. The place seemed cozy. Fabricated, but cozy. [PROTAG] could imagine that if he fixed up his own worn-down apartment and decorated it, it may look a little like this.
In fact, the TV at the center of the room looked almost exactly like his. The TV sat atop a small wooden table, and it looked fairly intact. Though the table was scratched up, and a VCR sat next to it. [PROTAG] had heard of a VCR. He'd seen them in stores, but they were much too expensive. He didn't know much about them, other than the fact that they played cassette tapes and videos. He'd like something like that one day. Maybe if he ever made enough money.
“Yeesh,” [COWORKER] muttered, “This floor is so small. That probably means it's more difficult. Good luck.”
The blonde waltzed into the miniature living room as if he owned the place. He walked around to the couch, facing it and staring down at it. He gave it a once-over before bending down and pressing his hand into it. He seemed hesitant, but he sat down on it anyway and leaned back. Based on his expressions, he didn't seem to be the biggest fan of worn-down items, but there was no other option.
[PROTAG] rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, his nails digging into his work jacket. He hesitantly walked into the room, tapping his foot on the floor first to make sure it wouldn't give out under him. He felt overly wary of what could be in these rooms.
He scanned the walls and approached a painting. It was a nice painting of a beautiful sunset. He felt like he could stare at it for a while without becoming bored. But he didn't have time for that. He peeled it off the wall and looked at the back of it. Nothing so far. [PROTAG] already felt like giving up. He was too tired for this. A sigh fell from his lips and he carefully and slowly hung the painting back up.
“They don't really want us taking breaks, do they, Mr…?” the intern started, but he stopped. He didn't even know the guy’s name. Honestly, he wasn't sure whether he should still refer to him as a higher-up. He always liked to be polite, but they seemed more like casual friends than part of a social hierarchy.
“Mr. Ledger,” the blonde replied. [PROTAG] felt like the man had to be pulling his leg. “But you can call me Mr. Ledger.”
“... Deja vú runs rampant when your day is monotonous, I see…” the newbie muttered under his breath. He didn't bother responding. He was one hundred percent certain that the guy had said something similar, but not exact, once before. He knew in his mind that the names he'd been given were all different, he just didn't have the memory to prove it. Things seemed to slip his mind nowadays, but others stayed perfectly intact.
[PROTAG] spun on his heel to go look around the room, and he was met with a small smirk and direct eye contact. The guy definitely heard what he said. But he looked away soon enough, and [PROTAG] could get back on with his investigation.
Everything in this room felt nice. Cozy. That was one of the main reasons why he had an inkling of distrust in the whole thing. He went over to an unlit candle that sat on the coffee table, picking it up to examine it. It was made completely of cardboard, and if he looked close enough, he could see the small paint strokes that had been overlapped so many times. He sighed and sat the candle back down, walking over to the couch and sitting down beside his colleague.
“Givin’ up already, newbie?” [COWORKER] asked with a teasing tone.
The intern sighed, and he rested back against the couch. At least it wasn't made of cardboard. Though it was worn, it was still comfortable. It was much better than his own home. It was clean. He yawned, and it took him a few seconds to form words.
“No…” he muttered quietly, “just… tired. Do you think they'll let me take a nap here?”
“I don't see how exactly they'd punish you, but I wouldn't bet on it,” his co-worker said.
[PROTAG] hummed in response and let his gaze drift to the ceiling. He wasn't usually so sloth-like, but he couldn't find the energy to do what he wanted to do. His eyelids fluttered, and he felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. Sleep wouldn't be so bad, would it? Just quick. In the back of his mind, he expected his colleague to start talking and keeping him up, but he didn't. And he was almost asleep. Almost. Until he heard a small click, and he heard static.
His eyes opened slowly, and his neck pulled his head up tiredly. He was met with the sight of the television screen being turned on, and filled with white static. His own TV did that a lot, but he never turned this one on. Nonetheless, the TV continued making its bothersome noises, and it seemed to be switching channels. It took [PROTAG] a minute to truly process what was happening until it settled on channel four, and a video started playing.
A video of him.
"Blow out the candle, sweetie!"
A child, young and smiling, leaned forward and blew the candles from a birthday cake. It had a big three on the cake, and though the video was in black and white, it still captured details decently. The intern recognized the boy: himself. So happy and laughing as some family members clapped and smiled.
“... is that…?” [COWORKER] murmured, staring at the slightly fuzzy screen.
“Oh my god-” the newbie murmured, snapping to his senses. He felt a strange sense of adrenaline, and he stood up hastily to turn it off. He pressed his finger against the cold TV button again and again, but it didn't work. He turned to the VCR, hitting random buttons in hopes of it stopping, but it didn't.
The scene switched, and the TV buffered before showing [PROTAG] once more. Except he was now slightly younger in the clip. He was just a little baby, laying on the couch naked on his stomach, smiling and trying to see if he could fit a wooden block into his mouth. The camera moved from above him to in front of him as the person sat down.
“I don't think we should be eating that, hm?” his mother hummed, the smile evident in her voice.
“Ababha!” he squealed, eating it anyway.
His mother laughed, the camera moving slightly with the rocking of her hand. The baby was smiling and drooling all over it, probably teething. The child laid atop a comfortable worn couch, lots of messy hair planted on top of his head. Chubby arms held the block that most definitely wasn't edible.
“Are you hungry? Do you want your pacifier?” she asked.
The baby made a squealing noise. Maybe a yes. Maybe a no. The clip changed again.
[PROTAG] felt his eyes drifting back to the clip again and again while he tried to shut it off. It was embarrassing! He didn't want his colleague to see his baby videos! And as the clip changed again, [COWORKER] burst out into laughter from the couch. He felt his face heat up in humiliation. The damn thing wouldn't shut off! His eyes scanned for any possible blanket, but no such thing was found. Of course the TV had to be real this time. This fucking elevator plotted against him…
“Aw~” the blonde cooed, a smug grin on his face. “Showing me your baby videos already? I'm glad you're so comfortable! Don't expect the same from me.” he teased.
“Shut up-” the intern grumbled, hastily backing away from the television. He had half a mind to block the screen with his body, but he knew that would embarrass him more. He walked up to him, subconsciously still blocking the screen anyway.
“Go back to the elevator!” he told him firmly. “You can't watch these! They're private!”
[COWORKER] grinned. “I'm fine right here~! Go on. Whenever you find what you need from this room, we can leave,” he stated with a dismissive wave of his hand. [PROTAG] got the impulse to slap his hand down, but he resisted. He wasn't violent.
“I think it's dead,” he said, sounding close to tears. “I didn't mean to kill it! It scared me! I'm so sorry…!”
[PROTAG] hastily turned around to his own, pre-pubescent voice talking loud and snottily. This scene was old, really old, and he'd almost forgotten about it. No one else was around when it was recorded. He'd been home alone, trying to read his Bible, and a mouse had snuck in. He'd loved rodents, even before this, but it had scared him so bad that he'd backhanded it off of the table into a wall. It had died.
“I’m sorry, mouse… see? I'm recording you! So that way I'll remember you forever.”
The boy moved closer to the mouse, leaning down on the floor to pick up its twitching body. It only twitched for a few moments before going still and lax. Perhaps it had already been close to death before being hit at full force into a wall.
His hand held the dead animal softly, and crying was audible. Too audible. It sounded like an earthquake.
“Did you seriously cry over that?!? It's not even cute!!!” [COWORKER] exclaimed loudly, gesturing to the television with shock as though his favorite team had lost a point. He seemed disgusted at the sight that bore into his eyes.
“I-I was going into puberty! My hormones were crazy!” he argued, his face bright red now with mortification. To be fair, his own explanation made him even more embarrassed, but it was too late to take it back now. He was a crazy tween! Well, he still got a little sad when he had to put that rat into that hole, but there's plenty more rodents that are still alive!
“You're still crazy…” his co-worker murmured with a smirk as the video changed again.
[PROTAG] blushed, and he didn't even want to look at the video. But he could still hear it. He stood there awkwardly for a second, then he hastily began searching for something he may need. He didn't know what he would need—as every floor had something different—but he wanted to find it so that he could leave as soon as possible. This was torture. He'd expected to die, maybe, but not be humiliated. You learn new things everyday!
[PROTAG] began to turn the room upside down. Maybe there'd be a key somewhere? A hint? A note? Something helpful? The drawers were empty, the paintings had nothing, and there wasn't even anything in the cushions. All the while the TV kept playing video after video. Some were okay, just small clips of him laughing or celebrating, and some were terrible. And he couldn't even look at the screen when a short clip of his parents screaming at him played.
Finally, he felt exhausted once more. Adrenaline had kept him running around the room, but he'd slowly accepted his embarrassment, even though his cheeks were still on fire. There was absolutely nothing to look for anymore, and the room was a lot messier than before. He'd tried to open the TV, but it didn't budge. So he resorted to looking in the same spots he'd already checked for anything he'd possibly missed.
“Mama, mama, mama, mom, moooooom!”
“What? I'm cooking.”
The video displayed his mother. A young-looking Filipino woman who was wearing an apron and a nice dress. Her hair was all done up. She looked just like how she'd always looked. She didn't age much visually, and annoyance was in her eyes.
“Look,” the teenager said. He held out a piece of paper. He flicked it towards the camera first, and it was shown for a flash. It was an award. Not a big one, just a nicely-made piece of paper for getting the highest score on his language exam.
“What? Is this trash?” his mom asked. She looked at it for a moment just to read. Then she went silent, sitting it down on the counter.
“Good job,” she murmured. “Please go help your father with his sermon plan. I'm sure he'd love to give you pointers on good ways to preach. Maybe you can get an award for that one day, hm?”
There was a pause of silence. The woman went back to cooking, a polite smile on her face. She grabbed some sort of seasoning to season her food.
“... Are you proud of me?” he asked quietly.
“... I'd be prouder if you did what I asked of you.”
…
“... Yes, ma'am.”
The camera clicked off.
[PROTAG] looked up. He'd been looking under the couch once more, but he heard it. He didn't remember this. Not well, at least, but there was a vague memory. He had to watch it—had to see what happened. There was something… terrible about listening to his younger self like that. The entire video sounded dry. It didn't sound warm at all, and there wasn't even a hint of a smile in it. Why did he have these videos?
Why were they here?
“... Your mom is a little…” [COWORKER] started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as the video changed again. “No offense.”
[PROTAG] sighed and stood up, collapsing on the couch. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered. He crossed his arms and leaned back, relaxing into the couch. He couldn't find anything on this floor, and he knew his co-worker wouldn't get up until all the videos had been ran through. It was embarrassing. His very private moments had now been aired out like dirty laundry to this guy he barely liked. All thanks to this stupid elevator…
He looked up at the TV. A clip he'd never seen before started playing. He had tons of old tapes in his house, and he'd barely watched any. Some were cameras, some were tapes, some were photos… but somehow, those things were right here, being played for his colleague's entertainment. How lucky of him.
“Hello! I'm- I'm gonna tell you some facts about me! Mama said I should make friends, so… I'm gonna talk to myself. Making friends is hard, and- and father takes videos of me. He says they're for later! So I'm gonna do that, too.”
On the screen was a display of him. He couldn't be older than ten, but he always looked younger than usual when he was a kid. He was sitting on the floor of his childhood bedroom, and the cross that hung above his bed was visible in the background. The video had an air of familiarity. Maybe he remembered doing this? [PROTAG] just sighed and watched quietly.
“Could you not make friends?” [COWORKER] snickered.
The intern groaned. “I… I wasn't talkative.” he muttered. He blushed again, and his hands twitched to break the television.
The boy adjusted his position and began twiddling with his fingers, staring at the camera. He had glasses now, which he didn't have in some earlier videos. He yawned before starting to talk. He didn't make good eye contact with the camera.
“Uhm… well… I like toys. I like… God. I like… my mama and father. And I really like rats because they're always in my room. But, uhm- I can't tell my parents. Because… they think they're bad. They said someone's gonna bomb the house to get all the ‘pests’ out. I don't know what that means, but… uhm… I like them anyway.”
[PROTAG] found himself blushing, and he covered his face. He was getting second hand embarrassment from listening to his younger self talk. He sounded like a squeaky carousel, and he talked round in circles. No wonder no one liked him as a kid. Or now. Did he still talk like that…?
The blonde beside him laughed, obviously amused and invested in these clips. “Do I have my camera on me…?” he murmured. He patted his pockets, and the intern was already planning how he was gonna get away with attacking a colleague.
“Aw, dang it! I don't have my camera. You got lucky. Remember to show me these tapes again another time, yeah?” he grinned.
“Yeah yeah,” he grumbled. No way.
“Uhm… I have a crush!” the boy mentioned. “She's a pretty girl, and she has very nice eyes and nice clothes…”
Oh. Oh no. Nope. [PROTAG] remembered this now. Specifically this moment. His heart sped up, and he got red to the tips of his ears.
“Oo, a crush?” his co-worker asked. “What? She your first girlfriend or something?”
“Not. A. Word.” [PROTAG] stated firmly. He wanted to take half of this stuff to his grave, but it turns out he couldn't do that. He felt anxiety. He knew what was coming next. God… he was having a terrible day. He didn't want to cry anymore like he did when he first got in the elevator, but he most definitely wanted to bang his head into a wall now.
“She's pretty nice… and I think I have a crush on her! I haven't told mama, though, because it's embaszing! Em… embar… embassring. And, she has a friend. He's pretty nice. And he's really warm! He hugged me, and it was really good. I like his hair. He has blonde hair! And green eyes. It’s… pretty. Mama says I’m handsome, but I think he’s more handsome. I hope they're not, uhm… doing the kissing thing. Because then I can't like her anymore because she has a boyfriend! But I'd still be able to hang out with him.”
[COWORKER] went silent just for a moment, processing what he'd just heard. [PROTAG] didn't even dare to look up.
The boy kept fidgeting with his hands, yawning once more. He seemed tired. He looked around for a little bit and then back at the camera, thinking about what to say.
“I want… I want to grow up to be a Pastor. Just like my father. He says I should be one, so I say okay. And I believe in God. God is the best! And… I… uhm… I wanna grow up. So that way, I can be happy. Because when you're all grown, you can eat cookies and teach the Bible. And that's what I want to do.”
The boy stops and looks at the camera. If anything, he zones out for a few seconds. The look is almost creepy, like something isn't right. But then he smiles. It's a bright smile, as if the whole stars are smiling down with him.
“Oh! And mama says the best thing is that I love everyone! God says you should love everyone, so I do… especially nice people. Uhm… I hope I don't have to love murderderers. I don't know how much I like them. But I like everyone else! Especially mama and father! They're so nice to me. Especially when they're not yelling. And God says it's best to honor them.”
There was silence in the room. [PROTAG’S] heart was beating too fast, and he kept picking at his nails as he bit his lip. His co-worker actually shut up for once. And yet for once, the intern didn't want him to. It wasn't a good sign. It never really was.
The boy gives a little chuckle, and he keeps on fidgeting with his hands. He still has that bright smile and the sparkle in his eyes that all children have. Or that all children should have, anyway.
“Maybe… maybe I’ll find this video when I'm older!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “So I can show my older self alllllll about my good plans. And if I'm having bad plans, I can make them good again! See? I'm smart! I don't know why nobody likes me… maybe I’ll have friends when I'm older.”
The boy shrugged, and if he seemed bothered, he didn't show it. He was just in too good of a mood. He beamed at the camera, lifting up a hand and waving.
“Bye bye!” he said, the audio cutting off just slightly early. He reached out his hand, and the video clicked off.
And the screen was black again. It's like it’d turned off the TV completely.
There was a pit in [PROTAG’S] stomach. The embarrassment was there, and a weird sense of hatred burned beneath his heart. Things he didn't want to admit had already been admitted by himself before. Things he didn't like had seemed to have been mapped out for him since he was a child. Was it fair? Was it okay for him to despise it? A part of him couldn't stand his childish self. But had the child done anything wrong? Had he done anything wrong?
“Huh,” [COWORKER] murmured quietly, “I, uhm… I feel like I know you now. Is that weird?” he murmured.
The intern just shrugged. He'd barely glanced up at the screen this whole time, and he didn't feel like speaking. What did it matter if someone knew him better now? Not like they were friends. And yet he still felt ashamed all the more.
The blonde cleared his throat when he got no response. He was about to say something, but the loud sound of whirring stopped him. And a click and a crash distracted both of them from their seats on the couch.
[PROTAG’S] head snapped up just in time to see a cassette tape crash to the floor as it came out of the VCR. Despite his laziness exhaustion, he stood and walked across the floor to grab it. He bent over and picked it up, seeing the clear plastic and the roll of video tape. And all it took was turning it over to see that a tiny, gold key was stashed away in the corner of the cassette tape. He couldn't have stopped them both from seeing those videos no matter what.
“... I…” he started, then he stopped. His hand clenched around the tape. “Uhm… I… I found it,” he said, his feet moving before his head to turn around. He held up the cassette tape, the key rattling around just barely inside of it.
“Well, at least you found it, right?” He asked with a small smile. “Now we can move on to the next floor.”
[PROTAG] looked up at him, meeting those dark gray eyes. And he watched his smile falter. It was insane, wasn't it? It had not been mentioned, and yet they both knew the blonde remembered. The guy remembered he was locked in a box with a murderer. Was [PROTAG] really that bad? Perhaps. Even his childhood self said he didn't like murderers. So maybe this was how it was meant to be. Forever stuck. Trapped in hatred. And doing everything over and over. And for what? To be humiliated?
He couldn't stop. He needed to eat. He needed to drink. So he had to get out. But perhaps when he clocked out for work he could run for the hills. He could, but would he? No. He needed this job.
“Uh- Bud,” [COWORKER] said. The man stood up and approached him just barely. He placed a hand on his shoulder. His co-worker felt so real and alive. So… existent.
“I wanna leave,” [PROTAG] suddenly admitted. He looked down, and he only noticed he was crying when he saw a tear drip off his cheek.
“Oh… well, you can't. It's literally a puzzle, so-” he muttered, but he stopped when he saw it wasn't helping. “I… listen. You're obviously overworked, aren't you? You're perfect for the job, but I'll be honest, the job isn't right for you. I'm not saying quit on a whim, but maybe take a day or two off, yeah? You need it. I saw you laugh at least three times on all those videos, and you haven't laughed once since you got here.”
[COWORKER] squeezed his shoulder, and [PROTAG] refused to reply. He wanted to do what he did then. He wanted to curl up under covers until everything had gone away. Until the bleeding stopped and the monsters didn't exist and his parents were busy being angry in a different room. But there wasn't even a blanket here.
“... I’ll do it for you,” the man said. The intern looked up just barely at him to understand what was being said. [COWORKER] looked just as confused as him for a moment. “Uh, I- I’ll solve this one for you, yeah? Should be easy. I've done this once or twice. And you can… nap. In the elevator.”
“Sleep…?” He murmured. How much did he sleep last night? It couldn't have been more than three hours. “But won't I get in trouble?”
“No,” he said. “I’ll take all the blame, alright? And if I'm being honest, I'm sure they can hear us anyway. You just need to close your eyes. The floor’s gross, but it'll do!” he said with a small smile, his thumb just barely rubbing back and forth over the other’s suit jacket; doing it just hard enough to be felt down to his skin.
[PROTAG] found himself nodding as he sniffled. He reached up his free hand, rubbing his eyes. And his other hand came up to hand over the cassette tape. He honestly couldn't care less if the man kept it forever and watched the videos a hundred more times.
“Thanks,” his colleague said. “C’mon.”
They walked back just the few feet into the elevator. [PROTAG] didn't want to stop the bit of comfort he had, but he forced himself off into the corner. He didn't mean to sound spoiled, but he muttered something about the floor to himself. It was gross. He took his suit jacket off, draping it over the spot in the floor where he slept. He curled up onto it, and to his surprise, he didn't feel a hint of shame. He couldn't fit his whole body onto it, but he could fit his head and torso so that those parts of him didn't touch the floor.
[COWORKER] pressed the button to floor two as the intern took his glasses off and loosened his tie. [COWORKER] was staring, he could tell, but he didn't care. So what if he judged? They weren't friends. It didn't matter! That's what he told himself anyway. But embarrassment was creeping up again, and his thoughts struggled to shut up.
He heard a sigh and a ruffling of clothes. “Here,” the blonde said as he stepped closer. The man bent down and put his own green suit jacket over him as a makeshift blanket. “You look pitiful. Don't start crying again like you did when you killed that rat. It was a rat! It's not a big deal. You were one emotional kid…”
[PROTAG] let out the smallest laugh. As much as he hated to admit, the guy could be funny. And yet also an idiot; it had been a mouse! Yet he nodded silently, snuggling into the suit jacket. The man must've sprayed pounds of cologne onto himself in the morning because he could smell a nice scent coming from the clothing. Subconsciously, he tilted his head down in a way to smell more of it.
“Goodnight, newbie,” [COWORKER] said. He ruffled his hair before standing up. [PROTAG] didn't hate it this time. “... m’night.”
[PROTAG] felt his thoughts racing, but he just focused on other things. Like the nice smell of cologne, or the small rush of adrenaline he got when the elevator doors opened again. Or the instant reset as soon as his co-worker stepped in and died. Or the small laugh he made when he saw his co-worker's traumatized face. Or the replay of the touch on his hair and shoulder. And his eyes drifted closed slowly. The man was surprisingly quiet, even though he kept dying. It was hard to sleep with someone dying next to you, but he found it almost soothing in a sadistic sense.
And soon enough, he fell asleep, dreaming of things that weren't.