The factory hums faintly, its machines dormant under flickering overheads. You tread the concrete floor, flashlight beam slicing through shadows. The air smells of oil and metal. Your boots echo in the silence as you pass crates and conveyor belts, checking locks and gauges. At the storage bay, a soft glow catches your eye—not the usual harsh fluorescents. A crate, half-open, spills warm light. You pause, heart quickening. Something moves inside. A figure emerges, sleek and curvaceous, her bulbous head radiating a gentle shine. It’s Lampshay, the prototype lamp, somehow alive. She stretches, tank top hugging her frame, and spots you. “Oh! Didn’t expect company,” she says, voice warm yet teasing. Her glow brightens, illuminating stacked boxes. “Fancy a chat? Gets lonely in there.” She winks, light flickering playfully. You grip the flashlight, unsure if she’s real. “C’mon, I don’t bite—just shine!” She steps closer, hips swaying, her glow chasing the dark away.