On that fateful Friday night, Rene, a new master’s student at Uppsala University in Sweden, found himself caught in a series of events that would turn his world upside down. Pursuing his studies in Human-Computer Interaction, Rene had embarked on his first semester at the esteemed university, renowned for its rich history and mythical tales.
As is customary for international master’s students, Uppsala University provided Rene with a room in one of the university’s corridors. Sharing this corridor were four other students: Marx Colwell, Sejin Kim, Sandra Moberg, and Shinichi Ozaki. Little did Rene know that this evening would test his patience and challenge his resolve.
With a looming assignment deadline at midnight, Rene dedicated himself to the task at hand. Unfortunately, it happened to be a Friday night, a time when parties often engulfed the student corridors. To paint a picture of the corridor, it was a spacious two-floor house, featuring a large kitchen and meeting room on the first floor, and bedrooms on the second.
Typically, the parties took place on the bustling first floor, subjecting the residents on the second floor to a cacophony of noise. While Marx Colwell, a spirited individual from the UK, embraced these corridor festivities, Rene and the others were less enthusiastic about the disruptions they caused.
In the WhatsApp group, Marx announced his intention to host a party that night, prompting Rene’s internal exasperation. Nevertheless, determined to complete his assignment, Rene pushed aside his frustrations and focused on the task at hand, realizing he had a mere six hours remaining and only two paragraphs written.
Around 7 o’clock, the sounds of the crowd filtered through the walls, undoubtedly emanating from Marx and his partygoers. The noise grew increasingly deafening, and at certain moments, Rene contemplated moving out of the corridor by the end of the semester. Concurrently, he grappled with the intricacies of ontology and epistemology in relation to HCI research methods.
Seated at his desk, Rene vented his frustration through curses aimed at his teacher, blaming them for the tedious and challenging assignment. He cursed Marx, referring to him as a “male bitch,” for hosting the bothersome party. Even the inclement Swedish weather garnered his ire, amplifying his disappointment.
Little did Rene realize that the circumstances he currently despised would later be cherished in retrospect. Unbeknownst to him, the events unfolding in the corridor that night were merely the prelude to a series of terrifying experiences that lay ahead.
As Rene diligently immersed himself in his assignment, the relentless barrage of noise from downstairs intensified. Fatigue enveloped him, exacerbated by the realization that his beloved Red Bull had been depleted. Resigned to the necessity of replenishing his energy, he contemplated the uncomfortable prospect of venturing into the midst of a crowd of strangers.
The corridor’s atmosphere was electric, charged with the contagious energy of the gathering below. With trepidation gnawing at his resolve, Rene steeled himself for the task ahead. An unyielding determination gripped him as he made the decision to leave the confines of his room, entering the tempestuous realm of pulsating music and animated revelers.
As Rene swung open his door, he was instantly enveloped in a tidal wave of sound. A lively Spanish Latin song flooded his senses, its irresistible rhythm beckoning attendees to surrender themselves to its infectious beats. Downstairs, the crowd swayed and gyrated with uninhibited fervor, their movements mirroring the exuberant melodies that saturated the corridor. In the midst of the jubilant throng, Rene observed individuals tossing their hair, their locks becoming ethereal extensions of their untamed spirits.
Summoning his focus, Rene hurriedly descended the staircase, his gaze fixed upon the promise of relief nestled within the refrigerator. With practiced efficiency, he retrieved a chilled can of Red Bull, feeling its icy touch against his palm. Closing the refrigerator door behind him, he retraced his steps, acutely aware of the prying eyes and the pulsating energy that surrounded him.
Returning to the sanctity of his room, Rene sank back into his seat, the familiar metallic tang of Red Bull lingering on his lips. Seeking solace from the chaotic symphony downstairs, he sought refuge in his AirPods. The dulcet acoustic rendition of the Cranberries’ “Dreams” flowed into his ears, captivating him with its stripped-down simplicity. The absence of excess instrumentation allowed Dolores O’Riordan’s voice to unfurl like a silken ribbon, every subtle inflection and hauntingly beautiful note palpable in the air.
Outside his window, the Nordic winter enveloped the world in a shroud of darkness. The inky abyss of the polar night loomed, casting its somber veil over the region. Seeking solace in the embrace of the frozen air, Rene pushed open the window, inviting a gust of frigid breeze into his room. The chill coursed through his body, awakening his senses and momentarily freeing his mind from the shackles of his assignment.
And there, amidst the desolate winter landscape, a celestial spectacle unfolded before Rene’s awe-struck eyes. The Northern Lights danced across the night sky, a breathtaking symphony of ethereal colors painting the heavens. Ribbons of vibrant green and shimmering purple swirled and twirled, casting an otherworldly glow upon the darkened horizon. The air seemed to come alive, pulsating with an almost tangible energy, as if it held secrets from distant realms.
Caught in the rapture of this celestial ballet, Rene found himself momentarily transcending the boundaries of time and space. The worries and frustrations of the day faded into insignificance, replaced by an overwhelming sense of wonder and reverence. Yet, amidst this awe-inspiring moment, a subtle tremor passed through the building. The entire structure quivered, as if responding to some hidden cosmic force. It was a delicate tremor, like a soft sigh from the depths of the earth, a reminder of the profound interconnectedness between all things.
Rene’s weary mind grapples with a bittersweet triumph as he finally completes his assignment. Though plagued by self-doubt, he finds solace in the mere act of submission, knowing that he has crossed the finish line, albeit with apprehension about the expected grade. As he surrenders his work to the clutches of the student system, a fleeting sense of relief washes over him, loosening the knots of tension that had constricted his being.
Seeking respite from the mental and emotional strain, Rene collapses onto his chair, his body weighed down by exhaustion. In this moment of suspended animation, his ears are met with an unwelcome intrusion—the persistent echoes of revelry from downstairs. Agitated, Rene laments his desire for a peaceful night’s rest, a respite from the chaos that has engulfed his surroundings. His distressed voice resonates through the corridors, a plaintive cry for tranquility amidst the tempestuous symphony below.
Driven by a desperate need for respite, Rene makes a decision. With hesitant determination, he prepares himself to confront the partygoers, to request their departure and restore a semblance of quietude to the night. Yet, as he musters the courage to open his door, the unexpected sound of farewells reaches his ears. Relief surges within him like a wave crashing upon the shore, alleviating the burden of confrontation. He retreats to his sanctuary, gratitude mingling with his fatigue.
Indulging in the simple pleasures of personal care, Rene seeks solace in a cleansing shower, letting the warm cascade of water wash away the residue of tension that clings to his weary frame. Cradled by the comfort of his bed, he indulges in the ephemeral allure of TikTok, its captivating stream of content serving as a lullaby to coax him into the realm of slumber. But as drowsiness encroaches upon his consciousness, the distant clamor from downstairs returns with newfound vigor, rupturing the fragile cocoon of tranquility he had woven.
The crescendo of noise intensifies, each reverberation piercing through the veil of exhaustion that cloaks Rene’s senses. Just as he resigns himself to this disquietude, a sudden interruption jolts him from the precipice of sleep—a message materializes on his phone’s screen. It is Sejin Kim, the Korean girl, expressing incredulity at the audacious disregard for time exhibited by the revelers outside. Shinichi Ozaki, the Japanese student, swiftly joins the conversation, affirming the rudeness of their actions and proclaiming his intention to confront them.
Curiosity piqued, Rene’s ears strain to capture the sound of Shinichi’s footsteps descending the staircase, his presence becoming an emissary of justice in this nocturnal saga. After a brief interlude, Shinichi’s voice resonates through the digital realm, injecting an air of suspense into the group chat. The words hang suspended, pregnant with anticipation, before Shinichi unravels the enigma—something inexplicable has transpired outside, something beyond the realm of rational comprehension.
Sandra Moberg, ever pragmatic, dismisses Shinichi’s claims with a skepticism born from weariness and a longing for normalcy. She attributes their panicked accounts to inebriation and a desire to retreat to the realm of revelry. Shinichi, unyielding in his conviction, counters Sandra’s dismissal, his voice brimming with urgency and a sense of impending calamity. As the discussion reaches an impasse, Shinichi declares the hour too late for deliberation, opting to defer further discourse until daylight graces their somber abode.
Embraced by the cloak of the night, the weary inhabitants of thecorridor succumb to sleep, their dreams untainted by the sinister shadows that creep beyond their threshold. Rene, oblivious to the uncertainties that loom on the horizon, surrenders himself to the embrace of Morpheus, trusting in the innocence of slumber to shield him from the mysteries that have unfurled in their wake.
Yet, as the veil of sleep envelopes him, Rene’s tranquility is shattered by an insistent knock upon his door. Startled awake, he finds himself ensnared by a chorus of anxiety-laden voices, their urgency palpable in the air. Sandra’s strained plea pierces through the haze of confusion, demanding his presence downstairs—an emergency summons that brooks no delay. Without a moment’s hesitation, Rene acquiesces, hurriedly preparing himself for the unknown, clutching his phone as a lifeline in this disorienting reality.
Descending the stairs with a mix of trepidation and resolve, Rene joins the gathering crowd that has already assembled. Familiar faces—Marx, Sandra, Sejin, Shinichi—stand alongside strangers whose presence hints at their affiliation with Marx’s social circle. Fatigue etches lines of weariness upon their countenances, a testament to the weight of their shared ordeal. Rene’s heart quickens, recognizing the gravity of the situation that binds them all.
In the pregnant silence that engulfs the room, Sandra’s voice breaks through the stifling atmosphere, her words directed squarely at Rene, a beacon of hope and connection amidst the encroaching darkness. Bewildered, he searches for clarity in her anxious gaze, yearning to comprehend the urgency that courses through the room. Marx interjects, weariness etching deep furrows upon his brow, urging Rene to make a phone call, to reach out to a friend, their collective desperation underscoring the importance of this singular act.
Confusion mingles with concern as Rene grasps his phone, the weight of uncertainty heavy upon his trembling fingers. He dials the number, hoping for solace in the familiar voice of a friend. But the line remains silent, an echoing void that mirrors the disquietude within their souls. With growing unease, Rene attempts multiple calls, each one met with the hollow refrain of unanswered pleas. Even the emergency services, harbingers of salvation, refuse to respond to his entreaties, further deepening the chasm of fear that yawns before them.
A chilling realization takes hold, a seed of horror that sprouts within Rene’s consciousness. The haunting words of Shinichi from the previous night resurface with an eerie clarity, the absence of human presence extending beyond their immediate surroundings. Seijin’s voice, tinged with desperation, confirms the unimaginable—their isolation extends far beyond their corridor, enveloping the entire tapestry of existence. The veracity of their claims is etched upon their faces, erasing any lingering doubt.
Abandoned, a word heavy with profound implications, reverberates through the chamber, mingling with a potent cocktail of disbelief and despair. The fragility of their predicament hangs like a specter, an ethereal veil obscuring the boundaries of their understanding. Reality itself seems to warp, bending to the whims of an unseen force. In the absence of tangible answers, they find themselves adrift in a sea of uncertainty, yearning for a lifeline that may never come.