If this were some kind of mechanical room it would make sense, what with the clicking, humming, and rushing of air that you can hear around its periphery in a slow, rhythmic, repeating pattern.

But there’s no machinery to be seen.

There are half a dozen wilting plants, once tall but long-since cowed by time, neglect, and lack of sunlight. It’s really a wonder they’re alive at all.

Something sustains them though. The same as it sustains us. Even when we wish it wouldn’t.

It’s been so long.

The noises do have a regularity to them, not morse but something in that vein.

click

click click

vmmmmmmmmmmm

whooooooooooshhissss

mmmmm

DEEEEEE

And so it repeats.

The doors are labelled at least: