印表機鐺啷鐺啷的嘔出一堆牙齒，帶著混亂的節奏，細長的象牙色碎片，像骰子般在托盤上滾動刮擦出一道道痕跡。亞瑟盯著它們，涼掉的咖啡有著作噁的銅鏽味。
「別在意這些......設備。」一位同事低聲說道，聲音來自嘴巴原有的地方，而嘴，又不知道散步去哪 “辦公室今天只是餓了。”
亞瑟抬起頭。螢光燈不再閃爍，而是慢慢的呼吸。隨著淡紫它的光一呼一吸。在他的骨髓裡嗡嗡作響。他發現，中午後他的辦公桌長高了兩英寸，仿木紋的桌面被擠壓扭曲成一張張尖叫的臉。
「有會議嗎？」亞瑟問道，聲音聽起來像金屬撕裂的聲音。
「總是有的，」同事回答道，一排新的隔間像參差不齊的牙齒一樣從地毯上冒了出來。 “而你就是今天的主題。”
亞瑟伸手去拿筆，但他的手指開始滴出墨水，凝固成筆尖。
The printer didn’t spit out paper anymore; it spat out teeth. Thin, ivory slivers that rattled against the plastic tray like dice. Arthur stared at them, his coffee gone cold, smelling faintly of copper.
"Don't mind the hardware," a coworker whispered, though his mouth was no longer where a mouth should be. "The office is just... hungry today."
Arthur looked up. The fluorescent lights weren't flickering; they were breathing. A rhythmic pulse of pale violet light that hummed in his marrow. He noticed his desk had grown two inches since lunch, the faux-wood grain swirling into patterns that looked suspiciously like screaming faces.
"Is there a meeting?" Arthur asked, his own voice sounding like tearing metal.
"There is always a meeting," the coworker replied, as a new row of cubicles sprouted from the carpet like jagged teeth. "And you’re the main agenda."
Arthur reached for his pen, but his fingers had already begun to turn into graphite.
