The Messages

Tuesday Afternoon18h45

Three emails. I yawned, closing my eyes as my brain tried to shake sleep's last vestiges. And three chat logs. I expected more. I blocked another yawn with the back of my hand, doing so more out of habit than decency. My body yearned to return to dreamland. I resisted. Doing so now would only worsen my routine. Finishing the yawn, I tapped against my Sleeve to open F's first email.

***

From: Researcher F (f@complex.co.wd)
To: Management (management@complex.co.wd)
Subject: Centrifuge

Esteemed Overlords

I'm writing with regards to Project FU-0770-WD.

To cut to the core of the matter, the provided centrifuge is mechanically incapable of handling the indicated speeds. Increasing the speed by a mere 100% dislodged the base and sent one of the swinging heads slamming halfway into a metre-thick sheet of metal. An examination of the centrifuge's arms after the aforementioned screw-up revealed its structure warped. Speeding the centrifuge up to Mach one, as requested, is therefore physically impossible.

Due to the damage and the limitations mentioned, I'm unsure how my project should continue.

I eagerly await your response.

Minion F

---------------------------------------------

From: Management (management@complex.co.wd)
To: Researcher F (f@complex.co.wd)
Subject: Centrifuge

Researcher F

Our internal analysis has shown that achieving the indicated speeds with the provided centrifuge is theoretically possible with sufficient structural support. While we are willing to admit real-world factors may play a role, increasing the speed by, as you stated, 100%, is well within limits. Therefore, we assume the provided centrifuge was damaged due to negligence on your part.

Your payment will undergo a 75% deduction to provide funding for a new centrifuge, which will be delivered to you tomorrow. I trust this will serve as a lesson in not underestimating your assignments.

Management

***

I winced. Harsh. Did F really make a mistake, or was Management just being evil? I tapped the back arrow before opening the second email.

***

From: Researcher F (f@complex.co.wd)
To: Researcher H (h@complex.co.wd)
Subject: Help!

Fellow minion, I require your assistance.

Our esteemed overload(s) has/have given me quite a problem. I need to build a centrifuge that can operate at Mach speeds. I have no idea how they're planning on using the thing, but pay is pay. Seeing as I already got a 75% pay deduction because I blew the first one, I'm in no rush to do so again. Long story short, I need your help.

I think I have a working design, but the calculations for this thing's power grid are beyond me. I have the equations, but I can't solve them. I know I could type them into Mathal to get the results, but it seems my computer hates that thing more than I do. Seeing as you're our resident math whiz, I'd figure I'd call in some expert help.

So what do you say? Fancy taking a crack at it?

---------------------------------------------

From: Researcher H (h@complex.co.wd)
To: Researcher F (f@complex.co.wd)
Subject: Help!

F

No, I don’t 'fancy taking a crack at it'. I have several problems of my own and cannot spare any time to help you at the moment. As you said yourself, I suggest using Mathal.

And don’t refer to me as a minion.

H

---------------------------------------------

From: Researcher F (f@complex.co.wd)
To: Researcher H (h@complex.co.wd)
Subject: Help!

Aw c'mon, H. I'm really in a pickle here! I have about a week left, and I haven't even started building the thing! All that's standing between me and construction is this damn power grid. I've tried looking at it some more, but the first equation threatened to split my head in two.

Please? I'll make it worth your time.

---------------------------------------------

From: Researcher H (h@complex.co.wd)
To: Researcher F (f@complex.co.wd)
Subject: Help!

Your statement that you'll 'make it worth my time' is a blatant lie, as you have absolutely nothing that I need or desire.

Please stop bothering me. You are distracting me from my work.

H

---------------------------------------------

From: Researcher F (f@complex.co.wd)
To: Researcher H (h@complex.co.wd)
Subject: Help!

Nothing? Are you sure? ;)

---------------------------------------------

From: Researcher H (h@complex.co.wd)
To: Researcher F (f@complex.co.wd)
Subject: Help!

Any further communication attempts regarding this matter will be treated as harassment and will be reported to Management.

---------------------------------------------

From: Researcher F (f@complex.co.wd)
To: Researcher H (h@complex.co.wd)

Subject: Help!

Looking forward to when you're asking me for help again, bitch.

---------------------------------------------

From: Automated System (hades@complex.co.wd)
To: Researcher F (f@complex.co.wd)
Subject: Complaint detected - Help!

This is an automated message to inform you that this email thread has been detected as either spam or harassment. This matter has been reported to Management, who will investigate it in due time.

Kindly enjoy the rest of your day.

Hades

***

So she's mean to everybody, then. I pressed the back button somewhat harder than before. I mean, would it kill you to help? You'd have had five extra deductions if R or O hadn't bailed you out. I tapped against the last email.

***

From: Management (management@complex.co.wd)
To: Researcher F (f@complex.co.wd)
Subject: Laboratory etiquette

Researcher F

We at Management do not stipulate regulations on how individuals should manage their workspaces. Personalization boosts morale and productivity. However, certain standards must be adhered to, some of which you may have infringed upon, or are close to doing so.

The current state of your cubicle is deplorable and could pose a significant health and safety risk. We at Management understand that to meet deadlines, etiquette regarding cleanliness can be discarded. The construction of the centrifuge is considered level eight on the difficulty scale. With this taken into account, you will be given four (4) hours to clean your working space. Failure to do so will delay your next assignment, which will become available once Hades has deemed your working space to be in satisfactory order. You will receive a 5% deduction for every hour your new project is delayed.

We trust this will be ample motivation.

Management

***

Any angry feelings toward H were interrupted by a series of chuckles. Sadly, the emails didn't provide any new clues. Rolling onto my side, I removed the Sleeve from my arm and put it on the bed next to me. How wonderful it would be to return to sleep... no... no! You have to work tomorrow! Hopefully the chat log would keep me awake, I thought as I tapped on the entry.

***

T: Hey there, sexy.

F: Hey, yourself

T: Whatcha doin'?

F: Trying to teach this damn centrifuge to obey its master?

T: Hm... I know of a few other things that haven't been obeying their master. Things that are a lot... more... interesting...

F: ... you have my attention...

T: How about I show you? Will you open for me if I knock reaaal... nicely?

F: Soooo tempting... but the walls have eyes... and ears... and probably other stuff as well. I'd prefer some place more... intimate...

T: Aww... but what if I can't wait that long?

F: Then bottle it up ;) Think of different ways you can show me...

T: Careful, you might just let my imagination run wild. You know how active my imagination can be...

F: I love surprises. Shall we meet in, say, the jacuzzi?

T: The Jacuzzi? My my, you know just how to send a girl's mind into overdrive!

***

Ew... I tapped against the back arrow. That explains why T was in the jacuzzi, but with F? Ew! Just... moving on! It took me several moments to calm my thoughts. The last message made me frown. The entry was similar to the others, but its signature differed. If the metadata was correct then the message wasn't sent through the usual chat channels. Was it custom-made? I clicked on the file.

***

Skrap: Rrtpoe in.

Breem: Neeprts.

Zbeal: Pnester.

Rype: Epntsre.

Pkras: Tawh is teh ttsuas fo eth Elr?wakrife?

...

***

"What is this?" I scanned through the message a second time. I could guess some of the words, but unscrambling the message manually would take some time. "Hades, can you help?"

"Yes, researcher V. I will unscramble the words shortly."

"Thanks. But don't you have a record of this message?"

"I don't have any trace of this message in my logs. I suspect the participants used a custom application."

I frowned. "Then how did the crawler find this?"

"I suspect F stored this message on his computer for some time, but forgot delete it securely."

"Makes sense." I sighed. Figured it wouldn't be that easy.

"The message has been unscrambled."

***

Spark: Report in.

Ember: Present.

Blaze: Present.

Pyre: Present.

Spark: What is the status of the Firewalker?

Blaze: Surveillance hasn’t shown any new events over the past two weeks. Behavioural patterns seem normal.

Ember: Signal activity appears to have stabilized. No abnormalities in the generation systems.

Spark: Unusual activations?

Ember: None. Systems indicate only one activation after implantation.

Spark: Understood. Shielding?

Pyre: Shielding remains intact. A small anomaly was detected three hours ago, but was auto-corrected by internal programming.

Spark: Very well. What is the next course of action?

Blaze: Original situation still critical. We must correct it as soon as possible.

Ember: Negative. The original procedure nearly killed the Firewalker. Repeating the same procedure may send them over the edge.

Blaze: Need I remind you, Ember, of the seriousness of the situation?

Ember: Not at all, Blaze, but you forget the psych profile of the subject. I quote: "Should the subject consider themselves experimented upon, they would likely take it upon themselves to seek vengeance." I dare not upset the status quo in the facility.

Blaze: I'm fully aware of the psych profile, Ember, as am I of the seriousness of the situation.

Spark: Pyre, what is your opinion?

Pyre: Both Ember and Blaze have valid opinions, but I find myself inclined to agree with the former. We must act, but we have to wait a bit. I propose that if we recall the Firewalker, then we do it under the guise of a check-up.

Blaze: You don’t understand! We would never be able to contain the damage the Firewalker could do if they were to discover the exploit!

Spark: Which is why we mustn’t draw attention to the fact that there may be one.

Blaze: There is one.

Ember: I concur.

Pyre: As do I.

Spark: Understood. Let us discuss our options and reconvene within three days, the same time as before. Spark, out.

Ember: Ember out.

Pyre: Pyre out.

Blaze: Idiots! You will all regret this.

***

A cold shiver broke out over my back as I read the message. "This... this..."

"This is very interesting." Hades finished the sentence for me, though he replaced some words I'd have used.

"This proves the killing was motivated! But how didn't you know? Aren't you plugged into every device?"

"As previously stated, I have no logs of any such communication. This indicates the software was somehow excluded from my systems."

"Who could have done that?"

"Only Management has the necessary permissions."

"And I doubt they will tell me." I scratched my head in frustration. "Well, why didn't you pick up the network traffic?"

"As stated, I wasn’t aware of it. Even if I were, I suspect the signal may have been fragmented and spread through a myriad of communication nodes. It would make tracking very difficult."

"Which again indicates there's a custom application. Can you scan which devices have suspicious or unknown software on them?"

"Scanning. One unknown application detected, installed on twenty-six devices."

"Number of unique users?"

"Eight, were I to include F's destroyed Sleeve."

"But..." I did a quick mental count. "... that's almost all of us?"

"Correct."

"Am I included?"

"Correct," said Hades.

"But I didn't install any strange applications!"

"That would seem to be false."

"Show me. Open the application." The Sleeve briefly showed a rotating spinner before a large red cross appeared.

The user does not have sufficient rights to access this application.

I could only stare at the screen. "Hades, when was this installed?"

"Creation date is indicated as eight months, two weeks, six days, seven hours, and thirty-three minutes ago."

"But I didn't install this!"

"Your Sleeve indicates otherwise."

"Hades, think for a bit. Why would I install something and then limit my own privileges?"

"Processing... no answer."

"Exactly." I lowered my arm, staring at the ceiling as I tried to puzzle everything out. How did I get the application? Did Management install it?

"Are there any more questions you wish to discuss?"

"Oh, where to begin!" I adjusted myself to sit upright. If you have no trace of the messages, how did I recover the current one?"

"Does your crawl do a bit scan when searching for data?"

"That's... true. I forgot, it's been so long since I wrote this thing." I bit the inside of my lip. "Have you sent this to Management?"

"They are analysing your logs as we speak."

It should be interesting to hear their response. I pressed the back button. That is, if they reveal more than just 'tell us what you know but stay out of this'. I glanced at the Sleeve's clock. Twenty past five. Well, let's take a look at the next one...

***

Akspr: Orpert ni.

Rype: Rteensp.

Zebal: I odlt ouy htsi lodwu ppn!eah!

Parsk: We vhea no prfoo htat Teh Rwekrlfeai swa vndievlo hwit Erbes?m eimsed.

...

***

"Be careful what you look for," said a voice.

My heart nearly skipped a beat. "What?"

"I didn't say anything," responded Hades.

"Hades?" My eyes darted around the room. "Am I the only occupant in here?"

"That is correct," said the AI.

"Did you detect any abnormalities in my biometrics within the past minute?"

"Analysing... a small spike in brain activity, but within regular deviations. Is there a reason why?"

I could have sworn I heard F's voice. I shook my head. "Just wondering. Please fix the message."

"Unscramb-"

A sudden force almost threw me off the bed and sent the contents of my bedside table clattering against the floor.

"Explosion!" At least I think that's what he said. The slight ringing in my ears made it harder to hear.

'Wuh... where..." I nearly fell over as I stumbled off the bed.

"Three point three meters north."

M's room! The Sleeve fell from my hands when I pressed it against the scanner. Instinct made me try to catch it, but the rumble of nearby rubble overwrote it. Seven steps brought me to M's door, where vague traces of smoke wisped into the air from underneath the door. "Hades, open-"

"What the hell happened?" H demanded as she emerged from her room.

"Something exploded in M's room." I reached to press my Sleeve against M's door, only to feel the cold touch of steel against my skin. "Shit! Hades, open the door!"

"The explosion damaged some of my circuitry; I cannot access the door."

"What was that?!" R asked as he appeared beside me. I could see P running closer behind him.

"Explosion in M's room," I said. "We're trying to get in there, but Hades can't help us."

"Hades, what is M's status?" R asked.

"Unknown. Researcher M removed his Sleeve approximately thirty-three seconds before the explosion."

"I see." R reached into his pocket, taking out a flat-head screwdriver, which he jammed between the wall and the scanner.

H raised an eyebrow as I stepped aside. "Care to enlighten us?"

"Each sliding door has a mechanical override hidden inside the scanner," R spoke as he popped the scanner's lid off with a cloud click. "It's to be used in cases of emergencies."

"How do you know this?" I asked.

"It was the only way we could access your cubicle after your accident. Hades gave me the instructions when your door wouldn't open." A mechanical groan started to lift the door when R pressed a button, but it would only meet us halfway. It took the combined efforts of both R and me to force it open far enough to enter.

M's room was complete chaos. Rubble of what I suspect was once the wall separating the bathroom from the main room now covered the floor. His cupboard was blown apart, the debris intertwined with the wall debris and the bed's remains.

"Oh, shit." I don't know whether R or H said it, but it was obvious what they referred to. Past the broken door were red stains covering the floor, walls, and even bits of the ceiling.