I went out in the hall today. I went for a walk. I did not find the door, or STAIRS 1-4, but I found this exposed outlet, which…what can I say? It’s an outlet. It’s missing its plate. Fascinating, I’m sure.

I’ll keep an eye on it, I suppose. It’s quite a way down the hall, past the windows, near the intersection. Checking on that every day should…do remarkably little, I’d imagine. I had loftier goals: find the stairs, breach the courtyard. Steal something…or, no. That wasn’t on the list. But none of it matters, because brave Sir Robin, brave Sir Robin, brave Sir Robin ran away.

(I mean, I didn’t run, exactly. I shuffled. I shuffled quite quickly, with my slippers on the carpet—hoosh-hoosh, bye-bye. Not so brave.)

This was me not running, trying to spy on the ghost world beyond the frosted glass:

It looks like I’m on the outside, but I’m definitely…that’s definitely my reflection, still inside. You can’t see it, but there’s a trellis out there, a long trellis, three windows’ worth. I’m not sure there’s anything growing on it, but it’s there.

I wish I were a creature with no concept of home, something that would be equally comfortable (or uncomfortable) wherever it went.

I wish I were a tortoise. Then I’d always be home. (Except, I wouldn’t. Tortoises have territories, and they don’t like to leave them. They get lost. They get anxious. Man, I hate when my pedantry ruins a perfectly fine idea. Also, fuck tortoises.)

Let me try this, then, a more interesting assignment. Something that presents a challenge beyond, y’know, not being a massive coward.

Put something stupid on the lift. Don’t get caught.

See, there’s an assignment with weight. It’s $200 for littering, and there’s a camera on the lift. I’d have to get on with something stupid, get off without it, and do it unobserved. And take a picture, or who’d believe me?

I could get on with a box, pretend to lose something from it, and call it a win. But that isn’t not getting caught. That’s…getting caught, but not fined. They’d still know it was me.

I could…reconsider my definition of something stupid. What isn’t litter, isn’t detectable, isn’t—

I could get on the lift. Mission accomplished!

Putting myself on the lift adheres to the letter of the assignment, but not the spirit.

Come back tomorrow, though. I’ll have a solution, or I’ll have…bravely run away.