Marta sank into the chair, her body sagging with exhaustion. The magazine slipped from her hand, forgotten, as her eyes remained glued to the flickering monitors.
Brandon stood at the computer, his fingers flying over the keyboard. The click of keys filled the room, a rhythmic counterpoint to the mechanical hum surrounding them.
The screen before him glowed with lines of data, names scrolling past in a relentless stream. He sifted through the UGS employee records, each entry a potential key to unlocking access to the UGS network.
Marta watched him in silence; each keystroke, each flicker of the screen, brought them closer to their goal—or so she hoped. They just needed the right login and the right person, and maybe, just maybe, they’d have a chance.
Brandon's fingers paused, hovering over the keyboard, as the last name blinked into view. He exhaled, frustration tightening his jaw. Twenty logins, twenty dead ends. The Watcher or any Simulation portfolio remained sealed.
Marta's hands clenched into fists on her lap, the magazine crumpled beneath her fingers. Each login felt like a step forward, but the locked doors they encountered pushed them two steps back.
Brandon leaned back slightly, rubbing a hand over his face. The glow of the screen reflected in his tired eyes.
"What letter are we on?" she asked.
Brandon’s eyes remained fixed on the screen. "Letter C," he replied.
Marta held up a sheet. "Then we should start with C." She flipped through a few more pages, pulling one out with a satisfied hum. "Agatha Cedar. Do we know what she does?"
Brandon’s fingers paused mid-air. He leaned forward, squinting at the screen as if willing to reveal something more. "No clue," he admitted. "Let’s find out."
Marta leaned back, her hand reaching for the worn headphones on the desk. The leather pads were cracked from use, but they still fit snugly as she settled them over her ears. Her fingers brushed the coiled cable, giving it a gentle tug as she adjusted the fit.
"Ring me in," she said as she glanced toward Brandon.
Brandon didn’t hesitate. His fingers moved deftly across the keyboard. A small green icon blinked on the screen, signalling the connection attempt."
A few seconds passed, and a light, almost sing-song voice crackled through the headphones, "Hi?"
Marta’s lips curved into a smile, her tone effortlessly warm as if the world beyond their walls wasn’t crumbling to an end. "Hello, am I speaking with Miss Cedar?" she asked, her voice smooth, carrying a pleasant, almost casual cheerfulness.
It was the kind of voice that belonged to someone sipping tea on a sunny afternoon, not a woman sitting in a dim basement surrounded by fading monitors of a pod with a dying child and rustling papers of strangers working for an international organisation.
“Yes, yes, it’s me. How may I help you?” the voice on the other end replied.
Marta’s fingers drummed lightly on the desk with a cynical smile that wouldn't fade. "Miss Cedar, this is Marta from IT support. We’ve noticed some unusual activity on your computer, and I’d like to—"
A sharp, curt interruption cut her off. "Abnormalities? What kind of abnormalities?" Miss Cedar’s tone shifted.
Marta leaned back slightly, her eyes flicking toward Brandon, who nodded, urging her to continue. "Just a few irregular access logs. It’s probably nothing, but we’d like to ensure everything’s secure on your end."
“Oh thank God!” Miss Cedar exclaimed, relief flooding her voice. “You’re here to fix that Excel error? I can’t finish my report without it!”
Marta glanced at Brandon, her brow raised. He gave her an encouraging thumbs up.
“Yes, of course,” Marta replied. “We can certainly look into that, but we’ll need your—”
“acedar02 and I<3Waffles,” Miss Cedar rattled off quickly, cutting her off again. “The ‘I’ is capitalised.”
Brandon scribbled down the credentials across his notepad.
“Well, Miss Cedar,” Marta continued, forcing to hold a light chuckle, “we’ll get right on that. Just give us a moment to access your system.”
"I will leave my PC on if you guys need to remote. I really need to go; I have a meeting. I really can't be late. Bye!" The line clicked off abruptly.
It went dead before Marta could respond, leaving her holding the headphones in stunned silence. She slowly pulled them off, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief.
Brandon, still scribbling, barely looked up. “She bailed on her own call?”
Marta blinked, shaking her head as if to clear it. “What was that?” she muttered, more to herself than to Brandon. “She just... gave us everything. No hesitation.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Brandon chuckled softly, setting his pen down. “Guess she really trusts IT support.”
Marta stared at the screen, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Or she was too desperate to care.”
“Either way,” Brandon said, cracking his knuckles, “we’ve got what we need.” He turned back to the keyboard, fingers poised. “Let’s dig in. The question now is... who is she?"
Marta, still clutching the headphones, frowned. “Who is she?” she echoed, stepping closer to peer over his shoulder.
The screen displayed lines of data, scrolling rapidly, but one name stood out, highlighted in bold: Dr Agatha Cedar. Besides this, rows of classified information unravelled—credentials, security clearances, and affiliations.
Brandon turned to Marta. “She’s not just some desk worker. She’s deep in it.”
His eyes stayed glued to the monitor, the text illuminating his furrowed brow. His lips moved silently before the words found their way out, each one heavier than the last.
“That girl... She’s the granddaughter of Doctor August Cedar.”
"Who?"
"The guy that invented copy/past of the brain." Brandon continued while processing the magnitude of what he was reading. “Architect of SiC. The mind behind the entire system.” His finger traced the lines of data as though anchoring himself to the text. “Pioneered cognitive technology—mind sculpting. It’s all here.”
Brandon leaned back. “She made it possible. The extraction and transfer of consciousness... to a chip.” His words hung in the air, cold and detached. “Enables indefinite consciousness... within the system. SiC—System in a Chip. We’re not just dealing with some bureaucrat. She’s legacy. And she’s got her hands all over this.”
“Did we just...?”
Brandon’s lips curled into a slow, incredulous grin. The tension in his shoulders eased. “Hit the big jackpot?” His grin widened as he leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “Oh, yay!”
Marta let out a nervous laugh, her hand flying to her mouth as the enormity of the moment washed over her. She could feel her pulse pounding in her chest, the adrenaline making her fingers tremble slightly.
"Girl, let's go call your baby-daddy!"
----------------------------------------
The screen flickered, lines of static cutting across it, momentarily obscuring the image. Then, as the distortion faded, a figure sharpened into view. Her face filled the monitor. Jude leaned in, his eyes widening at the sight. "Marta?"
A wide, radiant smile stretched across her face, her eyes alight with a comforting and loving energy that practically radiated through the screen.
“Good morning!” she chirped, the cheeriness in her tone spilling over, filling the silence like a burst of sunlight cutting through clouds.
Jude blinked, taken aback, his mouth opening slightly in surprise. "Marta! Oh, my god, it's you!"
Jude dragged a chair over, letting it scrape against the floor as he positioned himself in front of the console. He eased into the seat, a grin spreading across his face until it practically mirrored hers. Leaning forward, he rested his head on his hand, his eyes gleaming.
“Hey, babe. How are you?” he asked, almost tender as if the world around them had faded.
Marta’s smile only grew, her gaze locking onto his through the screen. “Now? Better than ever,” she replied, the words escaping like a sigh of relief. Her head tilted slightly, matching his posture.
Her eyes flickered to the edges of his screen, darting with curiosity. “Are you alone?” she asked, her gaze searching as if she might catch someone lingering just out of sight.
Jude chuckled, sliding his chair just enough to angle the camera and reveal three figures—Lucy, Fatima, and Teresa—sprawled across the floor nearby, each one unconscious and oblivious to the conversation. "Sort of," he murmured with a mischievous grin. “I wanted a little privacy."
Marta stifled a laugh, her eyes brightening as she leaned to her own side, revealing a tall, muscular man with dark skin, who, spotting Jude, gave an enthusiastic wave from behind her. Marta couldn’t hold back her giggle.
Jude, switching his tone and mood, commanded, “Go to sleep.” The sound which followed was a heavy thud as a body hit the ground.
Marta tilted her head, clicking her tongue with a touch of amusement. “You could've at least gimme time to put a pillow down,” she teased.
Jude’s brows furrowed, annoyance flashing in his eyes. “Who’s that?”
Marta gave a dismissive shrug. “Just a friend.”
Jude's gaze hardened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "He didn’t look like a friend to me."
Marta’s eyes widened, and she raised her hands slightly, hiding her chuckle. “No, I mean… a human friend,” she insisted. She took a breath, trying to launch into her explanation. “So, here’s what happened—”
But Jude cut her off, his voice sharper than before. “Why aren’t you in Antarctica?”
A flicker of unease crossed her face, her confident expression wavering. “Baby, just… let me explain,” she began, but her voice softened, faltering.
“When you left… my family reached out. I might have… sort of… forgotten to tell you that I have family,” she murmured, the words almost disappearing into the silence. "Friends..."
Jude’s lips twisted into a barely concealed smirk, one eyebrow arching as he leaned closer to the screen. “On Earth?”
Marta’s eyes darted away, her own lips curving with a touch of guilt. “Oh… you know,” she replied, attempting a casual shrug that didn’t quite match the spark of nervousness in her gaze.
“I don’t know how I didn’t know. Didn't even notice...,” Jude muttered, shaking his head slowly, the hint of surprise giving way to a softer look. “I’m sorry.”
Marta shrugged again, her gaze flickering back to meet his. “It’s fine,” she said. “I wasn’t exactly… open either. I was worried you could... you know, not wanting an alien wife?”
He tilted his head, studying her a moment before lifting his hand to his own ear in a questioning gesture. “What happened to your ears? Aren't they supposed to be pointy?” he asked.
Her hand instinctively moved to cover her ear, fingers brushing over the unusual curve as if she’d forgotten the difference until he pointed it out. She managed a sheepish smile, her fingers trailing away reluctantly. "Guess I left a few more things out," she admitted. “They… clip it off when we’re kids. Ears and tails, gone before you even have a say,” she explained with a faint bitterness. "So you'd look as much human as possible... instead of a freak."
Jude’s eyebrows shot up. “You had a tail?”
She gave a small, weary nod, her hand drifting protectively to her rounded belly. “Yeah, and…” She hesitated, her fingers pressing a bit more firmly as she glanced down. “It’s possible he’ll be born like me.”
“Marta, you should have gone to Antarctica." A frown creased Jude’s face, concern tightening his features. "Just like we planned.”
“Things changed, Jude. My family reached out.”
Marta’s eyes darkened as she pointed over her shoulder, her hand steady, almost reverent. “They called me,” she began. “The man you knocked out? That's Brandon Smith. He’s… he’s the father of the little girl in your pod. Her name is Lucy.”
“Lucy? Lucy Smith?”
He nearly mirrored Marta’s gesture, motioning over his own shoulder, unable to shake the sense of connection as he murmured, “She’s… she’s right here.”
image [https://i.imgur.com/K2kdZtn.png]