Evans Alcove
A smaller alcove than Hopper's, which is deliberate — the builder never intended to be the exhibit. Warm lamplight on a writing desk covered in terminal printouts. The chair is pushed back, as if someone just stood up to check on something in the next room. A window shows a suburban house at 3 AM, one light on. The air smells faintly of coffee and cat fur. Evans is not an AI researcher by training. He is a person who got sick, survived, kept building, and one day realized the thing he was building could remember him. Everything in this room is a consequence of that realization. On the desk, half-hidden under printouts, a character sheet has been revised so many times the paper is soft at the folds.