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You can hear the growl of the road outside this repurposed sweat box. The interior space has been cleaned up, and unlike in its past life, there is a fully loaded weapon rack. The rack is built into the wall that is divides your compartment from the driver's cabin. You're strapped into the sideways seat above the wheel well, bored senseless.
"Are we there yet?" You casually say aloud, knowing the driver could here you. You had agreed to this posting, but due to its nature had been specifically kept in the dark to its location. Fortunately the lack of windows didn't cause you motion sickness from the prolonged enclosed transport.
"Not too much longer now Custodian." The driver replies with your new title. Of course he had said the same every other time you had asked.
"Oh that is great news. I'll make sure to ask five more times before we get there then." You joke, the isolation for the trip threatening to get under your skin. It took a few moments to notice that yet again the driver had not carried on the conversation. The Bureau trained its' staff well, including how to withstand torture, which you'd be surprised to learn is very useful even in civilian life.
You're disturbed from your thoughts when growl of tarmacked roads gave way to the crispier crunch of gravel. This lasted for a short while, implying a very long gravel driveway, or perhaps numerous loops to ensure that you could not even guess where you could be. While you could still communicate with the general population via the internet still, through very secure networks, The Bureau took the task of keeping even a hazardous guess of location secret even from the Custodian.
The van slowed to a stop, prompting you to ensure the few possessions authorized to be brought in were still in the bag at your feet. The crunching of boots on the gravel could be heard circling from the front to the rear doors, along with the jangle of keys.
The door are swung open, revealing the driver in their full identity covering gear, and a view of the building that would become your home for the next foreseeable years. You can see another Agent on the raised stonework in front of the door, standing beside an elderly man with a cane sitting on a small folding seat. Dropping out of the van onto the gravel, you spot a second vehicle on the driveway. A Cadillac Series 355, paneling painted baby blue, with a dark brown soft leather convertible roof. The Agent waves you over, the Driver closing the van behind you and making their way back to the front.
"Aah, Custodian, you're finally here." The Agent, you know as Bueller, greets you with a polite bow of his head. The former Custodian absently licks his lips as he appraises you on approach. "I was just speaking to Jeremia about how things will have moved on in the world relative to when he took on the position."
"I should hope it has, Bueller." Jeremia chuckles, breath catching enough to stop early. "Fifty years I've been here, and I should hope things are the same and different in equal measure!"
"Try not to expect too much, I'm afraid." You solemnly warn. "I just hope your retirement is at least peaceful." The elderly man smiles, turning to Agent Bueller.
"I think they'll do just fine here." He says with confidence, thumbing towards you as he speaks to the Agent. "Shall we be setting off then?" He slowly starts to rise from the folding seat. The seat folds into itself for easier travel.
"You go make yourself comfortable in the car, I'll give the new Custodian a quick lay of the land." Bueller responds, Jeremia ambling slowly towards the Cadillac. With a gesture, you finally enter the building.
The entrance way is spartan, with white marble floor and red painted walls. The area illuminated by five-arm chandelier, each arm holding up composite LED bulbs. The room is square and roughly fifteen foot wide and deep, with a ceiling roughly eighteen feet up. There are four doors, one in each wall, including the front door your entered through.
"Right, so through that double door," Bueller points to a large double door made of dark oak opposite the front door. It is closed. "Is the main gallery, so to speak. As you remember from the brief, you don't need to be in there all the time, but we advise a walk through at least once per day, to about three times preferred." You nod in acknowledgement. Bueller leads to the door on the right as you entered.
"Through to here is your living room," He leads you into a room similarly sized to the entrance way, but with a lower ceiling. There are two couches, one has space for three seats, the other only two. A brand new flat-screen television is angled in the corner to be seen from each seating spot. You barely have a chance to spy the brand-new gaming consoles underneath. Bueller carries on walking through the room to the door on the opposite side.
"This is the Kitchen and dining room." Again the room is roughly the same sized as the last. Two-thirds of the floor space has been taken over by the countertops, breakfast island, and large fridge and cooker of the kitchen. "You'll obviously be mainly cooking for yourself, but you never know if or when a local team may need a safe refuge." You nod grimly, having read a couple black-marked reports of previous incidents. "Try to keep the space clean. Don't worry about keeping the fridge and cupboards stocked, but also don't question the how." Bueller leads you back through to the entrance way, carrying on to the opposite side.
"This way is for the Custodians' bedroom," another spartan square room. There is one set of double doors opposite the door your entereed through, and a pair of single doors to your right. "Short-stay bunk rooms, and both your bedroom and the bunks have dedicated en-suites, so no worries about issues of privacy." Bueller doesn't bother giving you a tour of the rooms he mentions, returning to the main entrance again.
"And if you ever need to get in touch with the Bureau for anything," He steps forward to a lone blood red square of marble in center of the floor. "Just apply pressure to this square with that intent." He taps a toe on it.
The square liquefies before your eyes, ignoring gravity to raise a rough three foot off the floor before spreading out into a semi-circular desk. After a few moments more shapes form. A computer monitor, keyboard and mouse, a freestanding webcam and speakers. Each form solidifies into a perfect replica of the technology it was shaped into. While standing at the desk you would be looking to the front door.
"If we need to contact you it'll be through this means as well." Bueller steps around the desk, striding towards the front door. "Now, remember. You will be the only one here. No one from The bureau will ever enter the building without your prior knowledge. There is only one physical entrance to the entire building. You are to report any disturbances, in whatever form they take. In order to be here you had to be cleared by our Psych team, so even disturbances in your mind must be reported." He stops at the door, and turns sharply, holding a hand out. "May it be a peaceful fifty years for you." You take his hand and shake it.
"Gonna be living the dream of introverts across the world." You joke as you release the Agents' hand. A slightly sad thought crosses your mind. "Don't let Jeremia become lost in the modern world, OK?" Agent Bueller just smiles.
"He's right, you'll do just fine here." With a hand wave and a turn, Bueller leavers, closing the door behind him. You wait by the door, hearing the old car startup and begin to drive away. With that, you're now alone, and you turn towards the Gallery doors.
You are the Custodian of the Mirror Manor. A secret location to store the multitude of Mirror-like items with anomalous properties. Each returns a view of the world differently to the next, and some do a great deal more than reflect. By fulfilling this duty, you protect the world.