Fiction, The Weekly Post

Field Notes: Purpose Lost in Room #3

I have been observing the humans for some time now, mostly from a safe distance, because they move suddenly and make choices without warning.

One thing I have learned is that they do not enter rooms.
They are summoned by them.

The kitchen is especially powerful.

A human will be sitting peacefully, doing something else entirely, when the kitchen calls out to them for no clear reason. They stand up, walk toward it, and immediately lose whatever thought they were carrying, like loose change falling through a hole in a pocket.

Once inside, they slow down.

They open a cupboard and look inside, not searching for anything in particular, but checking to see if the cupboard has changed since the last time they saw it. It has not. This is accepted.

Sometimes they open the refrigerator, even if they opened it ten minutes earlier. The refrigerator shows them the same things and offers no advice.

The human nods, as if this were helpful.

They will then lean against the counter and stare into the middle distance. Their body remains upright, which convinces everyone, including themselves, that something is happening.

If another human enters the room and asks what they are doing, the answer is always vague.
“Just looking,” they say.
At what, they do not know.

Eventually, the spell weakens.

The human leaves the kitchen empty-handed and slightly confused. Three steps later, the missing thought returns, fully formed and annoyed.

The human stops, closes their eyes, and exhales through their nose.

This appears to be a sign of respect.

They turn around and go back, hoping the kitchen will allow them to complete their task this time.

Sometimes it does.
Sometimes it does not.

I believe this is not a flaw, but an agreement.

The humans pretend to be in control.
The rooms pretend not to notice.

More information to follow.

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