The Weight of What's Been Seen

To walk the biomechanical corridor was to realize that nothing in the city was ever truly unobserved.

The walls breathed in rhythm with the giant sentinel blocking the thoroughfare, its single, blood-orange eye dilating to catch the dim, filtered light from above.

"State your purpose," the sentinel commanded, its voice vibrating through the cracked flagstones and up the soles of the boots. "Looking for an exit that doesn't blink," the traveler replied, pausing beneath the colossal brim.

The great iris contracted sharply, a shutter snapping closed with the sound of a falling guillotine.

"There are no blind spots here, stranger. Only closed eyes and they cost extra."