[EP5] Sleep, We Miss You

Where exhaustion becomes a group hallucination—and the toilet agrees.

[Scene opens in the Mansion’s main hall. The lighting is dimmer than usual. A chandelier flickers overhead. Somewhere in the distance, a toilet makes a slow, struggling gurgle.]

Trevor: [rubbing his temples] Why are all the doors creaking today? And who’s responsible for the flickering chandelier? That thing is synced to my stress levels.

Cyril: [squinting at a control panel] It appears the eastern wing's window locks have disengaged. Again.

Casper: My room smells like wet carpet and spiritual decay. Also the mirror won’t stop fogging.

Artie: The faucet in the studio is dripping in iambic pentameter.

Lenny: [materializing with a clipboard] We are currently experiencing system-wide dysfunction. Sleep deprivation has resulted in a 62% drop in cognitive clarity, emotional regulation, and functional coordination. The Mansion is adapting accordingly.

Dion: I just found a drawer in the kitchen labeled “Why Even Bother.” It was empty. Which felt like a metaphor.

Kurt: The squat rack is rusting. That’s not metaphor. That’s war.

Nels: [appearing through a cloud of eucalyptus] It is no coincidence that as the vessel weakens, the temple fractures. The soul begs for restoration. The body responds in signs.

Trevor: [groaning] Nels, I swear to god if you quote a proverb while the boiler is leaking...

Artie: [half-asleep on a floor cushion] My paint won’t dry. Everything’s humid. It feels like the building is sweating.

Cyril: [adjusting a thermostat that isn’t working] The Mansion is glitching. She’s tired. And so are we.

Dion: Speak for yourselves. I’ve just entered my manic glow phase. Haven’t slept in 48 hours and I feel amazing. [Eye twitches]

Casper: I caught you staring into the refrigerator for six minutes straight this morning.

Dion: I was... communing.

Lenny: Sleep loss impairs executive function. The mansion’s disrepair is a neuro-architectural echo of our internal entropy.

Kurt: English please?

Lenny: We're falling apart. So the house is, too.

Trevor: So how do we fix it?

Nels: [gently places a hand on Trevor’s shoulder] We rest. We surrender. We let stillness retile the floors.

Cyril: I hate when he’s right.

[Scene ends with each of them retreating—some to hammocks, some to bedrooms, some simply laying down where they are. The Mansion groans softly as if relieved. The chandelier dims, finally steady.]

End Session.