A series of “archived” projects were listed on our website — with full credits, documentation, and thumbnails — but every link led to a broken or missing page. Visitors wrote asking for access. Some offered to pay. One uploaded a recreation to their own site. We never confirmed or denied their existence.

Using temporary signage, we rerouted a popular footpath in a London park into a closed figure-eight. Entrances and exits were redirected. Signage was subtle. Most walkers followed the new path without question. Those who noticed the loop sometimes broke it. One group stayed for over an hour walking in silence.

We set up a phone number. When dialled, the caller heard a sequence of hold music samples, government service recordings, and distorted fragments of therapy sessions. It ran as a stream, never repeating. Promoted only via torn flyposters and a single QR code. The number stayed live for three months. Over 9,000 calls were logged.

We hired a private GP practice waiting room for 48 hours and rebuilt it as a deadpan replica of itself — but with minor temporal edits. Clocks were stuck. Forms were decades out of date. Magazines only featured past events. Visitors were told the appointment had been rescheduled. Most waited longer than necessary. Some didn’t notice.

Across one weekend, we placed official-looking “OUT OF ORDER” notices on functional public objects: benches, bins, doors, clocks, pedestrian crossings. The signs were uniform, printed on reflective card, sealed in laminate. Nothing was broken. But the interruption created avoidance, hesitation, and flow disruption. A map traced the shifts.

Timetables at bus stops were replaced with QR codes linking to dérive instructions: “Turn left when you feel observed.” “Pause where you’re most out of place.” Some codes were removed within hours. Others became routine — scanned, ignored, or obeyed without knowing why.

A whisper loop was installed in a public library elevator, audible only at the third floor. It featured fragments from protest chants and anonymous voicemails. No signage. No explanation. Those who noticed didn’t ask. The building returned to silence within a month.

We replaced CAPTCHA units with speculative prompts — “Are you real?”, “Prove you’re not watching.” These appeared across thousands of low-value ad placements in unused browser space. Most viewers didn’t notice. Others shared screenshots. The system flagged and removed them by day three.

A series of analogue clocks replaced global city labels with personal thresholds. “Wake”, “Collapse”, “Dream”, “After”. No announcement. Installed overnight in a serviced lobby. Left untouched by building management for two weeks. Time continued. But something in the room tilted.