The air smells of ozone, metal, moisture.  VEIL, walking quickly through the labyrinthine entrails of the ARGOS DEEP, faces another split hallway.  To his right, a well-lit white hallway stretches to another T.  Just the same as the every hall before - a copy of a copy.  To his left, something new: the hallway stops short a few feet around the corner.  Abrupt, purposeless space.  No plastic plants, benches, doors to offset the sterile white of the walls, floors, ceiling.  VEIL turns right and starts walking away from the pointless left hall.

( A sound like a whisper. )  He turns quick enough to watch the dead end wall ripple, the projection faltering for a moment.  Retracing his steps, he makes his way back until he stands just a few feet away.  VEIL watches closer, now, to the illusory wall.

( The whisper, again.  A metallic breath of air, and another break in the mirage. )  This time, he is able to make out a cold glow from behind the shroud-wall.  Bracing himself, he steps towards the glow and phases through the white tile.  No harsh fluorescence in the space he finds himself in, just a cold glow from around the corner.  The smell of ozone is overwhelming as he rounds the corner, and somehow, in this confined space, a breeze blows across the floor.  As he moves forward, the space opens up into something far contrasting the other architecture of the ARGOS DEEP, vaulted ceiling criscrossed with wires, dirty staircases crawling up the walls, debris scattered on the ground.  At the end of the immense room, a circular opening.  The source of the glow, the smell, the breeze, it seems.  VEIL moves forward, driven by an unseen force, stopping just ahead of the maw of the circular opening.

Twisting, writhing, whispering ahead of him: the OCULUS.