Episode 12
After taking an elevator a few hundred feet below the earth and passing through a security checkpoint, Sharp’s excitement on entering the WMD lab’s control room was tempered by the vague feeling of desolation that hung in the air as if the entire lab had just learned they had been poisoned with polonium during an office Christmas party. From the way his supervisor had described the scene, Sharp expected computers strewn about the lab in disarray—some even on fire—but instead it was people strewn about the lab, as if a bomb had gone off leaving lifeless husks behind. Strangely, there was a strong scent of burnt corn chips in the air which didn’t quite match the high tech scenery.
“Anoo…excuse me?” Sharp knocked at the open door, hoping somebody would respond. “Your high security lab’s door is being held open by a pizza box.”
One of the corpses sprawled over a keyboard suddenly sprang up in its seat and looked straight at him with wide eyes. It appeared that recognizing Sharp’s voice had reanimated her.
Yeah, it’s me. That guy from TV come to repair your smart toilets.
She moved out from behind her desk and made her way across the room while tucking in her rumpled blouse. As she quickly smoothed her skirt which was crisscrossed with creases, Sharp studied the machinery around the room. There were various desktop computers scattered around the room, some laptops, and most of them from competing operating systems. That stood out as odd. There were also stacks of machines that he didn't recognize, as well as monitors, 3D printers, and various probes and sensors.
The girl came around the last desk and stood before Sharp. He would normally consider a face like hers attractive except there was no hiding the deep-cut rings under her eyes. They were like bruises against her fair skin. Her eye makeup was blurry at the edges, and the only thing fresh about her makeup was the gloss she finished applying a moment ago. This was a woman who hadn’t left work for a few days. If the rest of them looked as drained as she did, no wonder they were laying about as if dead.
She put out her hand, then took it back quickly. “Oh, sorry!” Her blonde, bushy hair gave a staccato bounce.
“It’s okeh,” said Sharp with a bemused tone. “We don’t have to shake hands.” For a moment, Sharp began to relax. These were his kind of people—the hard workers who put in long hours to bring a project to life.
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“Well, um…you’re Sharp Hikoboshi. I mean, this is a big deal. I’m like a fan. We all are.”
“I’m not,” came a voice from the back of the room.
“Shut up, Syd,” said another reanimated corpse. The room began to fill with murmuring whispers, yet there still wasn't any movement. It was starting to get on Sharp's nerves.
“Um, okeh,” said Sharp as the murmuring picked up volume. His moment of ease has evaporated. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, and how I can help? I heard you’re having some kind of network issue?”
“I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten myself. I’m Isabelle, project supervisor. I just remember you hitting it big when I was ending grad school. I was just surprised to see you here.” She turned around and sent a stern look to somebody behind Sharp, and the murmuring in the back of the lab quieted back to a whisper.
“It's really no big surprise. I’m just an IT guy now,” Sharp said with a weary tone. He knew she was trying to make small talk, but chatting about his fame always led to people talking about his fall. Sometimes he wondered if he'd be better off moving out of the country to start fresh somewhere, but a recent teleconference with an old associate in Japan let him know that his infamy has seeped into the crust of the earth like radioactive poison. He would never escape the tongue wagging.
He looked past her for a moment to take in the observation window. It occupied almost the entire length of the room except for a security door to the right, which was next to what appeared to be the break room. Whatever lay beyond the observation window was covered in shadows, giving his AR camera a difficult time gathering information. There was enough ambient lighting to let Sharp know the room was massive and deep, and the glint here and there of metal throughout the room let him know it was filled with machinery. He couldn’t wait to get in there and poke around while troubleshooting.
With one last glance at the observation window, Sharp put the wormhole tech out of his mind and quickly placed his tool bag on top of a cabinet. Then he pulled out his tablet for show while his virtua display showed an open case file for the job. His AI assistant was busy pre-filling report fields.
”So, why was the door propped open?” Sharp figured it had to do with the acrid stench of burnt corn chips in the air. The scent had greeted him as he stepped through the checkpoint and walked down the hallway, but now that he was inside, he didn’t think one open door was going to be enough to air this place out. They might need tactical ventilation, or at least a fan or two. The stench was ridiculously strong and assaulted his nose.
While he faked inputting a note on his work tablet, Isabelle began to explain.
“We thought there was a fire when the network crashed and the wormbox failed. But it wasn’t. I mean, there was. A fire, I mean. I don’t know why I’m so nervous still.” She was talking so quickly, she ran out of air.
“It’s alright. Take a breath. It’s just me. Ask that guy back there and he’ll tell you I’m no big deal.” Sharp turned the edges of his mouth up in an attempt at a smile.
“That’s right! He isn’t!”
“Shut up, Syd,” came another reply.
This time Sharp smiled easier, and Isabelle joined him.