The fluorescent lights hum overhead as you push open your office door. The familiar sound of typing keyboards and murmured conversations is completely absent. Your footsteps echo unnaturally in the silence as you step into the corridor. All the cubicles stand empty—desks still cluttered with half-finished work, coffee mugs abandoned mid-sip, computers frozen on irrelevant spreadsheets.

A voice suddenly fills the air, clear and authoritative with a distinct British accent. It seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. "This is the story of a person named Stanley. As Stanley left his office, he noticed that all of his co-workers had disappeared."

You glance at the empty desks again, the feeling of being observed prickling at the back of your neck. Somewhere, someone is watching your every move.

The voice continues, "Stanley walked straight ahead through the double doors and then turned left."

You look toward the double doors at the end of the corridor. To your right, another passage leads in the opposite direction of what the voice suggested. The scent of stale air conditioning hangs heavy in your nostrils as you consider your first decision.