Most of Gabriel’s paints had dried up. He sat at his desk beneath the orange light of his lamp, scraping some of the dry paint into a mixing pot. Next, he added warm water, a drop of PVA glue and a sprinkle of plaster cement, careful not to get any on his baggy Hawaiian shirt. The mixture’s resulting colouration was a little thinner than the original paint, but it would serve the purpose. Dabbing some of the upcycled white paint on one of his fine detail brushes, Gabriel ran the bristles over the garden gnome’s eyes. He kept this brush in good condition, rarely using it except for important tasks, such as finishing touches.

He had salvaged the garden gnome a couple years ago while scavenging for supplies in a nearby mountain village. Something about the chubby figurine had called out to him–it was unlike the other models he collected and restored for his display cabinet, but had a certain old-world charm. The gnome had been covered in thick black paint, like tar. It had taken Gabriel months to scrape away the blotchy paint, wash it in paint-stripper solution and sand down the edges. Though, to be told, the task hadn’t been exceptionally time consuming, Gabriel was simply a professional procrastinator. What was the rush? He had a dozen models to repair and repaint, a hundred computer circuit boards to re-solder and re-wire, and stacks of books to read, and not much reason to do any of it other than to kill time. They weren’t going anywhere, and neither was he.

Licking his brush, he re-loaded it and painted the second eye, checking one of his many monitors for the video feed of the vault door, set into the mountainside beyond the highway. The video feed had been quiet ever since the two mercenaries, Andy, and the beautiful Clara, had stepped inside, and it had closed after them. Gabriel was keen to inspect what they recovered from the vault, and hoped it would be enough to pay off his debt to them. As much as he relished the company of a strong, intelligent, sexy, independent woman in his bunker, Clara’s brother was not so pleasant. In fact, he was vulgar, dangerous, and Gabriel was not ashamed to admit, a little intimidating.

Gabriel shivered at the memory of Andy. The man had carried a dark aura around with him. It was the sort of bad luck which Gabriel did not need. But what else could he do? Because of that stupid distress signal, they now knew where he lived, and were willing to sabotage his vault and smoke him out in order to extort him. Like with any bully, Gabriel had a tried and true procedure: put up with the abuse and give them what they wanted until they left him alone.

Shaking his head, Gabriel returned his attention to the gnome in his hands. The porcelain model was classic, and so the paint job Gabriel had given it reflected that. A bright red hat drooped over the gnome’s glowing chubby pink cheeks, propped up by its thick eyebrows framing two wide eyes. Its little mouth made an O shape, as if the gnome was shocked or embarrassed at something it had seen. Gabriel had used wraith-blue paint for the waistcoat and a forest-green for the jacket; the shorts were auburn-red and his little wellies were chaos-black. Gabriel had left some of the tar-like residue on the bottoms of the gnome’s boots to give the authentic effect that it had been wading through mud.

Gabriel lay the model down on its back and cleaned his brush. The gnome’s arms and legs were sprawled out, making it impossible for the model to stand up on its own. A bit of a design floor which only made the model more unique and valuable. Loading the very tip of his fine detailed brush with black paint, Gabriel planted his elbows on his desk and held the gnome as steadily as he could, then dotted the whites of each eye. Adding the pupils made all the difference. The transformation was miraculous. Where once was a soulless porcelain imitation, now lay a real life garden gnome, seemingly in possession of thoughts and feelings. Gabriel gazed at the gnome’s expression. He had not before witnessed the distress on the little guy’s face, but now it plain as day. The gnome floundered, as though drowning. He wasn’t just embarrassed or shocked… he was terrified.

A notification pinged on Gabriel’s desktop. He opened the tab and scowled. A satellite tower was attempting to make contact with his network using one of his own ID tags. It could be a hacker, or some sort of cyber-apocalyptic force trying to break into his mainframe, or it could be something else. Intrigue got the better of him. Gabriel checked that his system’s defences were operational and accepted the request. His adrenaline spiked as his activity log was flooded with information, scanning the data, half expecting an attack, ready for a war. But the script halted before any breach was made, leaving only one programme blinking in his task manager. Gabriel opened the software and grinned. It was his home-brewed dimachaeron interfacing programme. It had gained remote access to some sort of network, presumably the vault’s mainframe. That meant the vault must still have power. He expanded the vault’s network before him, fingers clacking on his keyboard like a madman, igniting his virus software like a wildfire, consuming every modem and node in the vault’s system. Their netcode was so out of date, they didn’t stand a chance.

Windows flashed frantically on his screen. Quickly, he compartmentalised them, spreading the information over his array of monitors. Suspense seized Gabriel as he watched the loading bars climb. New information was popping up every second like muzzle flashes in a firefight. He had to admit, the user interference of his software left something to be desired, but he was familiar with the chaos.

Gabriel leaned in close to his central monitor, eyes darting around like an automated turret, pinpointing targets. Waves of information crashed into his system, but Gabriel was able to spot the important details, with his background understanding of the vault’s blueprints. He had been studying for this moment–years of work flashed before his eyes–constructing a network map of the vault. The vault’s video feeds and radio networks were putting up a bit of a fight, but he already had gained access to written records, a list of what software and hardware was installed, what items were in the vault’s stockade, how many personnel it housed…

Personnel. Gabriel focussed on the feed, expanding the habitation database. The most recent record was written just one-hundred and seventy four hours ago: ‘Mrs McLain gives birth to the McLain family’s primary child. Boy. Twenty pounds. Mole McLain.’

Gabriel sat back in his chair with such a force that it rolled across the floor. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. The vault was occupied. Clara and Andy likely wouldn’t be able to salvage anything from inside. His debt would not be repaid.

Suddenly, the warring software raging on a battlefield of networks seemed far less exciting than before. Perhaps he could still get something out of it, at the very least, he wouldn’t be bored so long as he remained lodged in the vault’s network. Perhaps he could manipulate their systems–surplant their leader, instate himself as some sort of god–his very own resource strategy game with real-life consequences. But, that would be evil, wouldn’t it? So maybe not that exactly… He’d think of something else, something cool.

Gabriel was so focussed on the monitors that he hardly noticed when something moved in his periphery. He froze, staring at the porcelain gnome. Slowly, the figure retracted its outstretched flailing limbs, pulling them into its chest, hugging itself in a ball. Gabriel blinked, removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. That couldn’t be possible. Was he going insane? The figure was still again, but lay in the foetal position. It had definitely been poised in a star shape before, right? Definitely.

Gabriel prodded the gnome. It rocked slightly, but did not move. He stood up from his desk, hand over his mouth, and scanned his bunker for a weapon. Grabbing a tennis racket which he sometimes used to hit balls against the wall, Gabriel stood a good distance from the gnome, waiting for it to move again. Above the gnome, his monitors flickered as software windows layered on top of one another, pulsating with priority information, running strings of code which sparked briefly before closing themselves. The frantic window flashes cast the gnome in dazzling light like a silent storm. The gnome’s face was turned away from the array, swathed in shadow. There was a sound, like the whimper of a small, frightened animal, then the gnome rolled onto its belly and rose to its feet.

Gabriel shook with terror, as time slipped by dizzyingly-slow. He raised his tennis racket, ready to swat the gnome to death if it posed a threat. The chubby porcelain figure straightened its jacket and looked up at the array of monitors. The cone of its hat drooped as it looked upwards, suddenly animate as though someone had turned on the creature’s physics engine. The gnome turned and startled when it saw Gabriel. The two stared at each other for a moment, then the gnome wet its lips and spoke.

“Where am I? Is this… the bottom of the pond?” Its voice was high and congested as though it was speaking with a cold, yet with a pleasant resonant rasp, like a brass instrument. “I had hoped that, in my death, my mourning would finally lay itself to rest. And yet, it persists. Shall I never know peace? Why has such suffering befallen me?” The gnome bowed its head, little red hat falling over its face.

A million questions raced through Gabriel’s mind, but none of them could break through the mayhem and surface on his lips.

“I see that I have stricken you with fear,” the gnome went on. “It was never my intention, and for such, I apologise” The gnome’s voice stuttered. Its eyes glistened as though someone had just applied a fresh layer of gloss. “Furthermore, you have my deepest apologies for this intrusion of mine. I assure you, it was an accident, and I shan’t trouble you any longer.”

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The gnome bowed its chin to its chest and hiccuped. Wiping its eyes, it toddled towards the desk’s edge, then took a step into space and fell towards the concrete floor.

A vision of the gnome's delicate porcelain form shattering sprung in Gabriels mind. Before he knew it, he’d dropped his racket and dove towards his desk, hands outstretched. Gabriel landed hard on his chest, wincing in pain, but caught the gnome in both hands. Its eyes were screwed shut, expression contorted, bracing for a fatal impact.

Gradually, the gnome opened its eyes. The two of them stared at one another from centimetres away. “Please,” the gnome said. “It is my wish to die.”

“No, that’s wrong. I won’t let you.”

“I have lost everything. Everyone. I should not be here.”

“None of us should.” Gabriel said. “None of us.”

Getting to his feet, Gabriel placed the gnome back on his desk and sat in his chair. Suddenly, the cacophony of information on his computer monitors seemed inconsequential. Trivial. Here was a being in pain, and Gabriel's heart ached at its suffering.

“Why am I here?” the gnome asked.

“I was restoring you.” Gabriel pointed at the brushes. “Painting you. I just finished repainting your eyes.”

The little gnome looked up at Gabriel, its simple black-dotted pupils like those of a child, transfixed on the profound. A light glittered inside the gnome’s eyes like a faint star in the night’s sky, the spark of consciousness, the gift of life.

“The kindness of your heart must have restored me,” the gnome said. “I am in your debt.” Tugging its hat off its head, black curls bounced before its face. Gabriel hadn’t painted the hair beneath its hat–hadn't even seen it on the model. How was that possible?

The gnome bowed its head once more. “How can I ever repay you for this gift?”

Gabriel placed his finger gently beneath its chin and raised its head. He smiled. “Tell me your name.”

“Plodder,” the gnome said.

Plucking the hat from his hands, Gabriel placed it back on Plodder’s head and patted the little gnome’s dome. “I’m Gabriel. It’s nice to meet you.”

Something buzzed beneath Gabriel’s desk. “One moment,” he said, fetching the device from beneath a pile of clutter. It was an old radio transceiver which he’d forgotten he had, still plugged into his network. It was picking up a transmission. Gabriel hefted the device onto his desk, blew the dust off it and accepted the relay. Unhooking the handset, he cleared his throat and held down send. “This is Gabriel speaking. Who am I talking to?”

Radio static assailed him. Voices stabbed at him, breaking up and cutting off. Opening the associative software, he realised that he was transmitting a signal to the entire vault, and all of the security personnel on the frequency. Gabriel’s virus had since completed its invasion of the vault’s security cameras. Muting the radio, he opened their video feeds and searched for Clara.

Plodder pulled up a roll of duct tape on his desk and sat on it, observing Gabriel’s hands at work. “What are you doing? Creating music? Clickety-clack.”

“I’m controlling the monitors,” Gabriel said. “It’s a computer. Do you know computers?”

Plodder shook his head. “Not in my world. This is new to me.”

“Watch. Let me show you.” Gabriel pointed with his finger at the video feeds. He had dedicated one monitor each to the display of the Admin, Hydroponics and Habitation sectors–they seemed to be the most important. The remaining sectors, Life Support and Power, were much smaller, and each feed fitted on one large forty-two inch monitor above his head. “Here I can see a video from inside a vault. Look. There are many different cameras. I can switch between them.”

“What is a video?”

“It’s like… looking through somebody else’s eyes.”

“Do the videos mind you using their eyes?”

“No, it’s what they’re built for. They are machines, tools built by humans.”

“Fascinating.”

Gabriel clicked through the video feeds, searching for Clara or Andy. They would stand out, being the only people in the vault not wearing pastel coloured overalls. There were dozens of occupants in Admin Sec, and hundreds in Habitation. A long way from being deserted, as he had assumed. As he clicked through the feeds, Gabriel began to develop a sense for what was happening down there. Inside Habitation Sector, a group was gathering in a cafeteria, but they weren't eating, they were just standing around. There was some pushing and shoving. One man stood atop a table shouting while another group chased away two others, shouting and kicking at them. Gabriel didn’t have any sound on the video feed, but the sense of unrest was evident.

Gabriel flicked through Hydroponics Sector, but it was relatively quiet. Admin Sec was where the action was at. A group of men wearing grey overalls with red armbands were trying to pry a door open with a crowbar. They were armed with riot gear–armour, shields and batons. All around the sector, people were running from station to station. Gabriel flicked to the observation bay, smiling at the ruin he had sewn there. One man was transfixed on his computer screen mid-way through tearing his hair out with his hands. Another was pacing about the room, flinging his arms around, dashing over to the PC to inspect the network’s collapse. By now, Gabriel's virus would have invaded their root directory, spreading its poison into their system’s very BIOS and hardware itself. He considered sending a direct transmission to the techies in the observation station, gloating over his victory, but that would be cruel.

Focussing on the guards in the vault’s main tunnel, Gabriel clicked on the room beyond. The camera feed showed a lavishly decorated room with a desk in the centre, flipped on its side. A woman crouched behind the desk, knife in her hand. Her combat jacket had fallen off her shoulder. Blonde hair poked through the back of her baseball-style cap in a ponytail. Gabriel’s heart fluttered. “That’s Clara.”

“Is she your friend?” Plodder asked.

“Erm, sort of.” Gabriel isolated the communications transmission to target the intercom inside the room labelled as the ‘Head Honcho’s Office’ on the video feed. “Hello Clara. Do you hear me?”

Clara jumped up from behind her desk, swivelling around, searching for the sound.

“I’m on the intercom,” Gabriel said. “I cannot hear you, but follow my instructions, and I soon can… soon shall, I mean. Erm, anyway… key your radio into thirty-point-eight. I will code it into the vault’s system.”

He watched Clara configure her radio, then a request popped onto his interface. He connected the radio to the vault’s network, adding its partner radio as well–presumably Andy’s.

“Hello?” Clara’s voice came through. Her tone was firm and lyrical, like the hoot of an owl. “Do you read?”

“Loud and clear,” Gabriel grinned. “Although, there seems to be a delay of approximately two seconds on the transmission.”

“What the fuck is Andy doing down there?”

“Hey sis.” Andy’s voice rasped over the static.

“Where are you?” Clara said. “Security is after you.”

Andy held the button down on his radio for a good few seconds before answering. In the background, Gabriel could hear people yelling. He searched through his video feeds, trying to locate the mercenary. “Level four. Life Support Sector…” Andy chuckled over the line. “Well, not anymore. I found the armoury.”

“Don’t do anything drastic,” Clara said.

“Bit late for that,” Andy said. Gabriel corresponded the transmission to his location, but still couldn’t see him. Four cameras covered all corners of the armoury’s largest room. It was filled with lockers and riot gear. Vault dwellers were raiding the stocks, pointedly avoiding one isle where two bodies lay stiff and dead. “Also, there’s something here.”

“Something what?”

Gabriel squinted. The light was dim. Red sirens span in their fixings. Gabriel remotely accessed the nearby security station and halted the siren lights, turning off the alarm system and restoring bright light to the room. The video feed glitched–for a moment it appeared as though a patch of darkness on the walls remained, then the video feed caught up, and the black spot was gone. Andy stood in one corner. At first, the pixels around his form were fuzzy and distorted, then the effect faded.

“You’re welcome for the light,” Gabriel said.

“Who is this?” Andy asked.

“Gabriel.”

“Who?”

“It’s Gabriel. You were in my bunker yesterday.”

“I don’t recall.”

“Seriously?”

“Kid with the flowery shirt?”

“Let me think, what was it?” Gabriel paused for effect, but he hadn’t needed to. He’d been wearing the same shirt for weeks now. “I believe it was hummingbirds and honeysuckle, one of my favourites.”

“Right,” Andy said. “You turned the lights on?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I’ve hacked into the vault’s system. I have control over everything.”

“Right. Nice job. Keep those lights on honeyboy.”

“It’s Gabriel.”

The video feed flashed white for a second, then the spot above Andy’s head appeared darker than before.

“Shit, you do that?” Andy said.

“No, I swear!”

“I said keep the lights on.”

“I didn’t touch anything!” Another bulb burst inside the armoury, then another.

Andy dashed out of the camera’s view. “Clara, we’ve got a problem.”