The Backrooms

Phenomenon 44 - "Spontaneous Human Combustion" (SHC)
Case#4-011
Ω M.E.G. Base Omega
Documented & Archived by Jean Meier

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Time is nonlinear in the Backrooms, I've found. It likes to fold in on itself; sometimes into spirals, more often into unearthly shapes. Sometimes it is still. And, sometimes, it devours itself like a greedy snake. Here, on the cold porcelain floor where the ashy remains of one Monsieur Paul Benoit lay, it is three forty-eight on a Wednesday afternoon.

So, what happened?

There are white fluorescent lights on the ceiling, lined up in a uniform grid. Mr. Benoit had a penchant for avoiding bright, cool lights; he preferred to bask in the solace of a warm amber glow. Easier on the eyes, he’d say, better to read with. He liked the way the off-white pages turned manila.

For this reason, on the day of his promotion, Mr. Benoit requested his assigned cubicle be switched into a hardly lit spot tucked away in the far corner of the office. Atop it, he sought for a warm-bulbed desk lamp, one that would allow him respite from the headache-inducing, never-ending fluorescent hum. Since then, he has sat there every day for 5 months, during which time he has never inquired onanything else nor had any complaints of any kind. Little are the troubles for this forty-something-year-old man. Forty-three, if going by the file based on M.E.G.’s standard date and time.

What is there to say about an ordinary man simply bursting into flames?

At three forty-five, Mr. Benoit sat frozen in place for a few seconds. Then, without warning, his entire form combusted into flames. As he burned, he remained in the same position, hands on the keyboard, back hunched, feet on the carpet. It appeared that only his body was burning, as the objects in contact with him were completely unaffected by the fire. This impassiveness was not only present in the surrounding objects, but his coworkers, too, paid no heed to his brilliantly blazing form.

It is not as if the burning man was left unnoticed and forgotten by his colleagues. Sure, everyone in the vicinity noticed the event, and sure, they were concerned, though not panicked. Upon questioning, Mr. Benoit’s boss would say, oh yes, that Benoit, he was a good man, and a hard worker. I was not there at the time but I heard he caught on fire. It’s a shame what happened, especially to a hard worker like him, yes, even if his efforts had been declining as of late. His acquaintance and previous deskmate Juliette would say, he was a good man, he’d greet me in the mornings and occasionally pour me a cup of coffee. Sometimes these things happen. He was going to burn eventually, I could tell, and there was not much I could’ve done about it; I can’t just risk getting hurt helping him, you understand, right? So I just kind of watched him.

Mr. Benoit sat still, burning for three minutes, after which he was no longer Mr. Benoit but a pile of gray dust.

The case of Mr. Benoit was no outlier. As indicated by the fact that this is the 11th recorded case of this occurring, ten others before him had gone up in dazzling flames. Ten others, upon random selection, had burned into a sad pile of ashes to be swept up the following M.E.G. standard day.

Next to the unlit desk lamp now sits a black-and-white portrait of Mr. Benoit. It, too, will eventually burn someday, sometime.