Or perhaps longer. The music played on an endless loop from the speakers and he did not turn it off. He could not remember when it began. The screen glowed before him. He watched the waveforms pulse and contract like something breathing. Like something alive. He made small adjustments to things he did not remember and saved files with names that meant nothing. In the reflection of the dark monitor he could see the room behind him. The walls seemed farther away than they should be. Or closer. He did not look around to verify. He reached to shut it down around midnight. The screen dimmed. In that moment between light and nothing he saw it. A pale visage in the black glass. Watching him. Not unfamiliar. Perhaps his own face rendered wrong. Perhaps something else wearing his face. He powered it back on immediately. The music continued. He began to work again without knowing why. His hands knew what to do. The room knew what to do. Everything had its purpose here. He should leave. He understood this in some distant part of his mind. But the work was not finished. The work would never be finished. How many days had it been?  ǝɐɹı sǝıp