Cellar

You have descended a little further, and the clutter sharpens into purpose. Before you, a battered CRT monitor perches on a dark shelf, a waiting keybord lying on top. An uninterruptible power supply hums softly, anchoring the tangle of machines to something like stability.

A small forest of network switches and hubs sprouts in the shadows, their tiny LEDs blinking in uneven rhythm. From them spreads a multi-colour web of cables, spilling over the shelves in thick bundles, looping around pipes and disappearing into the gloom. The whole cellar seems strung together by this colourful spaghetti.

On the wall above, pipes for water, drains, and power march across like ribs of the house itself. Wedged between them is a tower of modular phone plugs, all branching from a single socket, one line for each room. Around the shelves lie curiosities: a box of sewing kit, radio gear, kitchen scales, rolls of wrapping paper, and an army of anonymous cardboard boxes stacked wherever there was space.

The actual server is hidden just out of sight, humming steadily on the floor, but you can trace its life through the snarl of cabling. From here you may retrace your steps up the stairs, or follow the light on the other side.