I was back in the room with the warm beige tower. The monitor glowed green like this page. Letters started appearing on their own:
SWARTHOS
WE SEE YOU
RETURN THE SPACE FOOD STIX
The keyboard was cold. I typed "I don't have any" but the screen just blinked faster. Then it said:
YOU WILL.
Miles of track made from glowing orange extension cords. Cars with headlights that were tiny CRT tubes. They drove in perfect loops forever. One stopped in front of me — a red ’69 Camaro with blacked-out windows. The driver’s door opened by itself. Inside was just more track going deeper. I heard my own voice from inside the car say:
"Keep collecting. We’re almost full."