Was it, really, just the clicking of the keycard that initiated the problem? Or was it merely the quality of the sound its echo produced: so sharp, so deliberate, so much more than just plastic tapping metal? Each time the click rang out, something felt wrong—not only with technology but also with the place. It felt as if the walls were holding their breath, as if the lights lasted a bit too long when they were down before flickering back into life. You start believing it to be something like, perhaps it is not the keycard in itself but whatever it is that the keycard works for. It is not unlocking doors for you but for something else.
And then, you wonder: was the clicking, first, the start, or just first noticed? Think about the low roar moving through the walls that only starts when everything gets quiet. And the clocks are never synchronized. You reset them endlessly. It's like a minor glitch in reality but only if you notice. Maybe the keycard is merely our brain's way of getting out of an uncomfortable thought.
Was the clicking really the trigger or simply the first thing we noticed? Or was it something else entirely—like the hum in the walls that starts when the room goes quiet? Or how the clocks are never synchronized, no matter how many times we reset them? It's like reality is glitching in tiny increments and only under your attention. Maybe the keycard is simply our brain finding a scapegoat because it's too uncomfortable to think deeply.
What if the keycard itself is more than an excuse? What if it’s in itself a trigger? Somewhere, in this mechanical ritual, the clicks communicate to the system—or whatever behind the walls, really—that we are ready. Ready for what? Nobody knows. Nothing? Everything? You start to hear the clicks when you don't even have the card in hand. You start to wonder if it ever stopped. And that's when you realize… maybe it was never us who caused the issues. Maybe we just joined in on them for the long ride.
And somehow, the more you think about it, the more sensible it is. Like what if it was never about the keycard? The more you think about it, the more it makes sense. What if it had never been about keycards even? What if? That click was just like listening to your pulse in your ears just before something takes a turn towards the worst. Waiting for the next click that doesn't come; it feels that the silence has gotten weightier. No longer waiting for you to swipe that card. Waiting for you.
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