My First Day On The Job At A Substation In Texas Was Nothing Short Of Terrifying

I didn’t waste any more time and got in the elevator. The door closed and I headed back up to the concrete block hundreds of feet above. To my infinite gratitude, the elevator shook the whole way, but did not falter on its way up. When I got to the top, I was in too much of a rush to wait for the door to fully open. I shoved through the gap as soon as I had the room and rushed to the TV monitors.

I was instantly disappointed and concerned when I saw a boring, normal, well lit and fog-free tunnel. The Endless Walk looked as it had when I first saw it: Just a maddeningly long chamber of wires and pipes. I was angry, and I hate to admit, but a little relieved too.

I even stopped the recording on the old VCRs, rewound the tapes, and played them back. As I did, I had a quick side thought about how outdated this place really was. It made me wonder how secure our power grid was when this was how we maintained it. I watched myself arrive at the end of the route and just as I seemed to notice the sudden cold, all four screens that monitored the Walk went fuzzy.

“Oh, fuck you. That’s not fair,” I moaned. I fast forwarded a little. More snow. I fast forwarded more. Still fuzzy.

Finally, the snow quickly cleared up as the elevator door slid shut and I caught a quick glimpse of my wide-eyed and heavy-breathing self. Well, of-fucking-course, I thought. That whole length of footage was completely useless. It did however raise the curiosity of why the hell the videos just so happened to fuck up while filming my encounter with the cold.

I was frustrated, freaked out, and confused. So, my logical solution was to go out to my truck and grab a spliff. When I stepped outside, the humidity was gone. It had been replaced by a cold — but not freezing — still air. The fog was still there, and that immediately struck me as odd. But I was more concerned with the events that had happened about 200 feet below the ground. (I’m honestly guessing about the depth. I still don’t know how deep it really is.)

I reached in the open passenger window, opened the glove box, pushed aside my hand cannon, found what I was fumbling for and pulled out the whole pack. I own a cool little rolling machine I bought at a humidor years back. I’ll make a couple dozen spliffs at a time, then fill up a cigarette pack and no one’s the wiser. I lit my first one and sent a glance to one of the security cameras on the building. I wondered if Walter ever watched the footage. He didn’t seem like the type to really give a shit.

After three spliffs, I was feeling much more balanced. I headed back inside and to the security room. As I passed “Shirley” sprawled out on her Firebird, I finally looked at the date of the calendar. July 1976. Sounded about right.

I got back to the monitors, and all was well. I sat in the chair, leaned back, and went back to my tunes. I was beginning to convince myself that I simply worked for a very old and odd electric company that was just a little outdated. And with outdated companies comes faulty and dangerous work environments. I was no stranger to that kind of workplace. Hell, it’s what I thrive in. I was sure I had just been spooked and was seeing things. Yeah, that all made perfect sense. I did my best to relax, and started in on “Born Under A Bad Sign” while I kept an eye on the screens.

It was 1:18, and I was right in the best part of Zep’s “Braun-Y-Aur-Stomp” when I saw the lights flicker and shut off in the reception room. I pulled the headphones from my ears and leaned forward in the leather office chair. It creaked and squeaked with every inch I moved. I tapped the glass tube, and a single line of white feedback scrolled horizontally across the screen. I sighed, grabbed the flashlight, and stood up. I headed for the door to the break room when I glanced back at the screen one more time. I was hoping to see the light back on so I could just sit back down and start enjoying my music again. The screen was still dark, but the light did flicker back on. Just for a millisecond, and not very brightly. But I could see the two chairs in the reception room for the briefest of moments. In one of the chairs sat something. It was so fast, I couldn’t really tell what it looked like, but I know it was white. A pale white figure, and it was big. The light flickered for a millisecond again, and it wasn’t there. I instantly did not want to go out there. But I took a breath and remembered how much THC was in my system. You’re cool, you’re okay, I thought and headed for the reception room.

I looked at the closed reception window as I headed through the break room. The window was that bumpy kind of glass that’s impossible to discern anything through. All I could tell was that it was dark out there. I shone my light at the window and I heard a quick shuffling sound. It sounded like one of the chairs scraped across the floor just an inch or two. I froze in my tracks and every muscle in my body tensed. Then I had a crazy idea and rushed for the door. I swung it open and pointed the flashlight at the darkness. I had no intention or forethought of growling, but that’s exactly what I did. I growled like a fucking tiger, baring my teeth and everything. If I wasn’t so full of adrenaline, I would’ve felt like an idiot. I scanned the entire room, all 16-square-feet of it, and there was nothing. Just that same disgusting tile, and two ugly metal chairs. One of them was a few inches away from the wall, though. I shone my light upward, and saw the black burn mark on the inside of the bulb in the ceiling.

I headed outside and around the tiny concrete compound. I unclipped the small bundle of keys from my belt and found the key for the fenced-off area. The desert was colder now, just bordering on freezing. It was the middle of fucking July, and my skin was starting to go all goose-flesh. The fog curled and sat in a thick mattress as far as I could see. The whole desert was drowned out in a white, frosty mist, and it gave off a soft halo in the light of the waxing moon. I felt like I wasn’t on earth anymore. For the first time in a while, I thought I might’ve smoked a little too much for the situation at hand.

I unlocked the gate and passed by the humming transformers and breakers. They emitted a bit of warmth, and I passed a little closer than I probably should’ve. I got to the rectangular 4x6ft storehouse in the corner of the fenced off area. It looked more like an outhouse. It was handmade from thick mesquite planks and was half covered in chipping white paint. The door had an old engraved handle and brass lock pad. I flipped through the short ring of keys Walter had given me on day 1. There was a classic, ancient looking dirty bronze key on the ring. It had only two square teeth and “storij” etched poorly into the side.

I turned the key in the lock, and the metal answered with a heavy click and thud. I opened the door and shined my light in. There were cardboard boxes of every size, stacked in no particular order. Each box had a list of contents scrawled on the front of the box in chicken-scratch posing for human handwriting. The first few I could actually make out were, “Wires,” “Nails, bolts, screws, etc.” and “Light bulbs, paper clips, paper”. I reached for the latter, and opened it up. I grabbed two light bulbs, remembering the security room’s complete lack of one. I was about to put the box back when I noticed the one beneath had “VHS” written poorly on the lid. I shone my light on it, and saw “’98-’02” next to the “VHS” part. I half-lifted the lid, and the box was completely filled with old VHS cassette tapes. I replaced the lid and slid that box over to reveal the one under. The next box read “VHS ‘83-’85+Files”. This box held tapes and stacks of old printer paper. I shone the light around the stacks of dozens and dozens of boxes. I scanned the different crap written on each one. I saw ‘75, ‘69, ‘67. One of the oldest boxes looked like it had a tiny “’44” in the corner. I had no idea how long Electric Solutions Of Texas had been in operation, but it looked like a long damn time.