They quickened their pace and took a closer look at the graffiti on the wall.
Strictly speaking, it wasn't graffiti, but an octopus's account of its own life.
Perhaps its consciousness had only just been contaminated, leaving it unable to write in human language, so it could only record everything it had experienced through pictures.
The first picture showed a little octopus in a culture dish, its cute, soft tentacles constantly touching its surroundings. Masked people stood in a circle, seemingly examining the tiny life with great care.
The second showed a masked person injecting something into the little octopus's culture dish. The octopus looked agonized, its two tearful eyes utterly pitiful, while someone nearby wrote and sketched.
In the third picture, the little octopus gradually grew larger. The masked people replaced the glass vessel with a tall cylindrical tank. Various wires were attached to the octopus's lower body, their other ends connected to the masked people.
From that moment on, the heartwarming scene took a turn.
The once carefree little creature's life became bleak and lightless. Beyond the plainly visible torment, its body gradually began to change as well.
Day by day, the culture fluid changed from pale yellow to blood red. Flesh gradually grew over the wires, new tissue continually covering them as time passed. The cold electrical wires became animal nerves and blood vessels, eventually developing human skin and forms.
And so, the monsters were born.
At the other ends of the wires, masks shattered. Facial features twisted out of place, and ulcerated, severely rotted skin lay exposed to the air.
With their own meager power, they proved that contradictions in nature truly existed.
Of course, the price they paid was horrific.
The final picture showed the octopus breaking out of its glass tank and surging madly