The Maintenance Request

Morgan Chen had worked maintenance at Evergreen Apartments for twelve years, and in all that time, she'd never received a work order quite like this one. The digital ticket simply read: "Strange sounds + smell from pipes under kitchen sink. NOT regular blockage. Please investigate ASAP."

The request came from unit 437, occupied by old Mrs. Whitaker, who'd lived in the building even longer than Morgan had worked there. Mrs. Whitaker wasn't one for hyperbole or unnecessary maintenance calls. If anything, she was known for trying to fix things herself before bothering anyone.

Morgan gathered her tools, checked the building's ancient pipe schematics on her tablet one more time, and headed up to the fourth floor. The elevator creaked its familiar protest as it lifted her past the lobby's faded art deco details. When it opened, she was hit by an odd smell – something between wet earth and ozone, like the air just before a thunderstorm.

Mrs. Whitaker answered on the first knock. The normally put-together woman looked frazzled, her silver hair escaping its neat bun. "Oh, thank goodness you're here, Morgan. It's gotten worse since this morning."

Morgan followed her into the apartment, noting how the strange smell grew stronger. The kitchen was immaculate as always, every surface gleaming – except for the cabinet under the sink, which was wide open, revealing a collection of buckets and towels arranged to catch occasional drips.

"It started three days ago," Mrs. Whitaker explained, wringing her hands. "Just little noises at first – tapping, maybe, or scratching. I thought it might be mice, though we've never had them before. But then there was the smell, and the water..." She gestured to the buckets. "It's not exactly dripping. It's more like... seeping. And look at the color."

Morgan crouched down to examine the buckets. The liquid inside wasn't the rusty brown of old pipes or the murky gray of backed-up water. It had an iridescent quality, shifting between deep blue and violet when the light hit it.

"I've never seen anything like this," Morgan admitted, pulling out her flashlight. "Let me take a look at the pipes themselves."

She lay on her back and scooted under the sink, shining her light along the maze of pipes. Everything looked normal at first – the standard U-bend, the connections to the building's main stack, all intact without visible leaks. But as she followed the beam further back, she noticed something odd. There was a section of pipe that seemed to... shimmer?

Morgan blinked hard, sure she was seeing things. But no – there was definitely something unusual about that section of pipe. The metal itself appeared to be rippling, like the surface of a pond in a light breeze.

"Mrs. Whitaker," she called out, "how long did you say this has been happening?"

"Three days," came the reply from above. "But it's been getting more frequent. And Morgan... there's something else I haven't mentioned. Last night, I thought I saw..."

She trailed off as a distinct tapping sound emanated from the pipes, followed by what could only be described as a musical note – a clear, crystalline tone that made Morgan's teeth vibrate.

"That!" Mrs. Whitaker exclaimed. "That's what I've been hearing!"

Morgan reached out tentatively toward the shimmering section of pipe. The metal felt warm under her fingers, warmer than it should be. And was it... pulsing?

She yanked her hand back as another musical note rang out, higher this pitch, followed by a series of rapid taps that sounded almost like Morse code. The iridescent liquid in the buckets began to ripple in response.

"Mrs. Whitaker," Morgan said slowly, "I think you should step back from the sink."

The older woman complied just as the shimmering section of pipe began to glow with a soft, purple-blue light. Morgan scrambled out from under the sink, grabbing her tool belt as she went. Both women watched in fascination and horror as the light grew brighter, casting strange shadows on the kitchen walls.

The musical tones came faster now, overlapping into a complex melody that made Morgan think of whale songs and wind chimes. The rippling in the pipe intensified until the metal looked like liquid silver.

And then, with a sound like breaking glass played backwards, a small section of the pipe... opened. There was no other word for it. The metal simply parted like curtains, and from within emerged something that, by all laws of physics and nature, should not exist.

It was about the size of a cat, with a body that seemed to be made of living crystal and light. Its form shifted constantly, sometimes appearing more solid, sometimes nearly transparent. Multiple limbs – Morgan couldn't quite count how many – moved with fluid grace as it emerged fully from the pipe. What might have been a head turned toward them, revealing clusters of points that glowed like stars.

Mrs. Whitaker made a small sound that might have been fear or wonder. "That's... that's what I saw last night. Just a glimpse, through the pipe. I thought I was imagining things."

The creature emitted another musical tone, and to Morgan's astonishment, the iridescent liquid in the buckets began to flow upward, defying gravity to return to the being's crystalline form. It was reabsorbing whatever it had been leaking into their dimension.

"It's beautiful," Mrs. Whitaker whispered, taking a careful step forward.

The creature turned toward her voice, its starlike points brightening. It made a sound like wind through crystal caves, and somehow – though Morgan would never be able to explain how – she understood it was expressing gratitude.

"The pipe," Morgan said suddenly, understanding dawning. "It's not part of the building's original system. Look at the metal – it's different. Mrs. Whitaker, when was the last time you had work done on your sink?"

"Oh... must be thirty years ago now. There was a leak, and the building's maintenance man at the time – Mr. Rivera, do you remember him? – he came and replaced that section. Lovely man. Very... unusual. He had the strangest eyes, come to think of it. Sort of... sparkly."

The creature's lights pulsed in what Morgan could have sworn was amusement. Of course – the replacement pipe wasn't a pipe at all. It was a door, or maybe a window, between their world and... somewhere else. And after three decades, something had finally come through.

The being rose slightly into the air, its crystalline form catching the kitchen light and throwing rainbow patterns across the walls. It produced another series of musical notes, and this time, Morgan felt meaning forming directly in her mind: gratitude, apology, and... farewell?

"Wait," Mrs. Whitaker said, reaching out one weathered hand. "Are you... leaving?"

The creature dipped what might have been its head, then extended one of its shifting limbs toward the old woman. Where they touched, a small spark of light transferred from the being to Mrs. Whitaker's skin, spreading up her arm in delicate, luminous patterns before fading away. She gasped, then smiled, standing straighter than Morgan had seen in years.

"Oh! My arthritis... it's gone!"

The creature made a sound like distant wind chimes, then turned to Morgan. She held perfectly still as it reached for her as well. The spark that passed between them filled her mind with images: vast crystal cities in impossible colors, beings of light and music moving through dimensions that human eyes couldn't comprehend, and an ancient network of doorways, disguised as mundane objects throughout her world.

Then the creature began to fade, its form becoming transparent as it retreated toward the opened section of pipe. The metal rippled once more, then sealed seamlessly behind it. The strange smell dissipated, replaced by the normal scents of Mrs. Whitaker's kitchen – lemon cleaner and the coffee still brewing on the counter.

For a long moment, neither woman spoke. Finally, Morgan cleared her throat. "I... suppose I should mark this maintenance request as completed?"

Mrs. Whitaker laughed, the sound lighter and younger than her years. "Yes, I suppose you should. Though I'm not quite sure how you'll write up the report."

Morgan considered this as she packed up her tools. "Investigated unusual pipe sounds. Found source of issue. Problem resolved itself during inspection. No further action required."

"Perfect," Mrs. Whitaker nodded. Then she smiled slyly. "Though perhaps we should keep an eye on that pipe. Just in case our friend decides to pay another visit."

"I'll make a note in the system to check it periodically," Morgan agreed, recognizing the hope in the older woman's voice. "For... preventative maintenance purposes, of course."

"Of course," Mrs. Whitaker echoed, touching her arm where the creature's light had spread. "You know, I think I'll make some tea. Would you like to stay for a cup? We could... discuss your maintenance schedule."

Morgan checked her watch, then her work queue on her tablet. There were other requests waiting, but somehow they all seemed less urgent now. "I'd like that, Mrs. Whitaker. I'd like that very much."

As she helped the older woman prepare the tea, Morgan found herself glancing occasionally at the sink. The pipe looked completely normal now, just a standard piece of plumbing in a standard kitchen. But she knew better. Somewhere in the building's ancient blueprints, there might be other sections that didn't quite match, other "repairs" made by maintenance workers with sparkly eyes.

She made a mental note to start checking them all, just in case. After all, it was her job to keep things running smoothly at Evergreen Apartments – no matter what form those things might take.

Mrs. Whitaker set the teacups on the table, and as Morgan sat down, she could have sworn she heard a distant, crystalline tone floating up through the pipes. But this time, it sounded almost like a promise.