The late hours of the night ticked by as Bernard kept watch over the lobby of the hotel from the surveillance room. The camera's monitors cast their gentle yellow glow over the room and onto his face. To the outside observer it would seem he was in a trance or maybe even a wax sculpture of a man. Bernard was lost in thought. Asking himself where the years had went. He spent day after day staring at cameras, watching people live, love, and sometimes even die. From his little room he saw everything. In this insignificant room, through the eyes of cameras, he was a spectator of the human race. He glanced over to the digital clock hanging on the wall. The angry red numbers read 4:00 AM. His shift would be up soon. He'd spend the day sleeping and come in the next night to watch again. Nevertheless he wanted to pass the time so he rested his arms on the table and looked one more time at the monitors. No one was there. He was sure no one would mind if he took a small nap. The watch beeped. Bernard shot straight up in his chair and looked around for the sound. On the ground near his foot the alarm kept beeping. Maybe one of the previous security staff had left it? He picked it up and stopped the alarm. The clock now read 11:00 AM. Oh no! I shouldn't even be here. Where is everyone? Is anyone staffing the desk? Bernard exited the dark surveillance room. The dull, yellowed wallpaper outlined the seemingly infinite number of rooms. The silence was disturbing. Bernard couldn't think of the last time it had been this quiet. He snuck over to the front desk and thrusted his body halfway over the splintered wood counter and once again waited for noise. Nothing. Maybe they have just taken a small break? Maybe they're outside? Bernard walked through the automatic doors and realized something was wrong. The parking lot was full, no one was around, and the roads were clear. He walked faster, but as soon as he took a step outside the hotel he woke up in the surveillance room. He repeated the same exercise at least ten times, but always awoke to the unbearable beep of the watch at 11 AM. Bernard decided he would take the master key and check the rooms. Surely there was someone in one of them. He started at the fifth floor and made his way down to the first. As he continued, his actions became increasingly erratic. Every room was the same. Empty. Besides the one. Room number one. It contained an unpacked leather suitcase and several pairs of suits neatly hung in the closet. A businessman's attire was laid out on the bed waiting like a dog for its owner. Bernard raced to the front counter and opened up the hotel log on the computer. He had to know who was here with him. He opened the complete log for the hotel, but only one entry was present. Bernard Macrae. Checked in today at 11 AM. Room No1. His heart pounded and absolute terror set in. It was impossible. It couldn't be real. It had to be a joke. The thoughts in his mind were as tangible as thick smoke. Theories came and went, but no answer made sense. So he waited and he thought. He remembered a lot happening before today, but nothing odd. He figured that stress was getting to him, that he was just asleep. He tried pinching himself, but to no avail. He went back to his room and put on the suit that was laid out. He took deep breaths and made himself dinner in the kitchen. At least he wouldn't have to watch anyone else. He could be whoever he wanted inside the hotel. Bernard felt a couple hours pass and looked down at the watch. Still 11 AM. Great, a broken watch. He turned on the television. Every channel was the same. It presented a window, and beyond the window the woods. There were swaying trees and birds stuck in a perfect loop. Even though he was free of the surveillance room Bernard could not do anything. He tried to keep track of the days, but every day reset just the same. Eventually Bernard's quiet sanctuary became his nightmare. He craved the outdoors: the smell of grass and the fresh mountainside air. He wanted contact with the outside world. And even if he could have his old job back, he would take it. Anything was better than living in the hollow hotel. He went on rampage after rampage after rampage. He shattered everything around him and inside him. His body was reassembled like a broken vase, piece by piece, at the end of each day. Bernard must've died a thousand times. But this was his reality now. He imagined the years going by. His life became an unfocused blur. All he knew was the hotel. The inescapable hell. --- They stared at Bernard sitting silently in a wheelchair. A sorrowful expression was painted on both of their faces. "How long has he been like this for?" "I think the doctor said about twenty years." "How did it happen?" "They aren't sure. Maybe the stress of the job got to him." "What job?" "Security. They found him in the surveillance room. He wasn't moving. Just staring at the screens. Unresponsive to all stimuli. His shift was supposed to be over at six in the morning, but they ended up taking him out at around eleven." "Any family?" "He is an only child. The parents never come for whatever reason." "I heard the doctors tried snapping him out of it once." "Yes, tried. It seemed like Bernard was fighting whatever got to him as well; however, it wasn't long until he gave up. His brain is still active, but we cannot know for sure if he's still there." Bernard sat there in a trance like a wax sculpture, staring out the window, beyond the trees, and past the birds. He was lost in thought. Asking himself where the years had went.