text: Sunlight filters through the window, to land delicately on an open filing cabinet; that instead of files, was sporting rows of perfectly prismatic honeycomb, which glistened in the light. It's not real sunlight of course, they ran out of the power they needed to pump it down from the surface a long time ago. And it’s not really a window, it’s really just a plexiglass screen, lit from behind by a white UV lamp. Did you know? they actually used to create the silhouettes of a bird flying behind the window, or leaves slamming against the glass, back when all the testing was going on- sometimes they malfunctioned, and I was called in to fix it. There are so many twisted vines clogging up the ceiling, that I can barely tell where my Umbilical Cords are anymore. I need to do a cleaning of this level sometime soon. I am thankful that I have olfactory receptors, as this very kindly lets me smell the flowers reaching up the doorway, and the scent of fresh water, carried all the way from the lake down in Hydroponics. As usual, I catch my feet more than a few times on all the surprisingly strong weeds protruding from the gaps between the linoleum tiles; some evidently were not satisfied with the already present gaps, and instead burst directly through the tiles in places. Luckily, I manage not to dislodge my elbow on the doorway again, as I emerge into what they once called the break room- I chose to bring my Umbilical Cords back here because I used to love working in the staff kitchen; getting to learn about and record the daily goings-on of the employees was extremely invigorating. Most of those data files went missing when I invited that family of ants to live on my head, but still. (maybe it was actually the time that I ran out of power mid-maneuver over the lake?) Regardless, I like to be reminded of this area, even if the only chatter happening now is the soft rustling of leaves, from the battery-powered fan in the kitchen. There is a fairly long hallway- they put quite a lot of those down here, in fact- that has strip LED lighting running along the wall, which is obviously trying to race with the ivy and moss, but was already declared the loser a long time ago. At fairly regular intervals throughout the tunnel, there are service compartments, which hold fire extinguishers, cleaning implements and such. Sometimes we had to use them when there was too much mess to deal with, with just the cleaning parts we had built in. Broken shards of glass are scattered all over, although I could have sworn I cleared them up fairly recently. The clinking sound when I step over them is reminiscent of the clink of eating implements and washing utensils, constantly sounding in the break room. Someday I want this whole tunnel to look like the hollowed out inside of a giant tree trunk, but I know that will never happen; besides, I already tried it down in Power, and I almost ran out of fire extinguishers that time. Finally, the tunnel opens out into one of the old elevator shafts- this one leads down to Hydroponics and Engineering, or up to the Patient Canteen. I start making my way down, stepping from leafy vine, to twisted root, to rusted support beam; luckily, I learnt how to climb watching some of the test patients- they were always best when a river of acid or disposal sludge was under them. I used to just drop down, but I haven’t had the necessary anti-gravity cells to do that for years; besides, if I move too fast, I might accidentally throw off the patch of daisies on my left forearm, or the growth of bluecap mushrooms in my knee joint. As I near Engineering, a dulcet violin melody fills the air, echoing back and forth, off some of the plates of steel. I must have forgotten to turn off that sound system the last time I was down here (could’ve been 4, 5 recharges ago?), or maybe my auditory receptors had been blocked by soil again. I gingerly navigate myself onto the landing, hearing the dull clang when my feet hit the concrete- this area has been a bit less affected by all the natural growth, mostly because all of the metal and concrete surfaces make it difficult for the plants to find a home. People very rarely came down here when the testing was going on- it was mostly *our* job to maintain the core temperature and such. They would occasionally send an overseer to examine the manufacturing systems, but of course could never find anything that was wrong. It is for this reason that there are no “windows” down here, just the white LED lights, forming rings in the corridor at regular intervals. At last, I emerged out into the factory area (if you’re wondering about the sound system, luckily I already removed its battery further back), seeing rows of assembly lines, with incredibly long power cables, thousands of pivoting drills and helper arms, all producing the groaning cacophony, so great that several had complained that they could hear it on the surface. That’s what it used to be like, of course; a crowd of machinery, a hoard of workers, stretching so far into the hangar that a human couldn’t see the end. (Now even I can’t, either, thanks to the fog from the Hydroponics lake). It’s silent now. The assembly lines are perfectly formed hills of dirt, the pivoting drills are twisted roots, with buds forming at the tip. I have to move for a long time, to get to where there’s any useful replacement parts left for me. I used to be careful, respectful, around this hangar, but what’s the use in that now? I force my way through the debris, passing row upon row of forms just like mine, but from their necks sprout a sapling, and their hands are indistinguishable from broken sticks. Of course, I am the lucky one - lucky to be alive. Lucky that I know that I’m surrounded by life, but it is indifferent. I do not need sunlight, oxygen and water. As long as I have my Umbilical Cords, I am lucky. Of course I am.