The workday is over. It hasn’t been very productive. The butterflies in my stomach feel more like bats, desperate to escape. I sit in an empty stall uncomfortably and insert a paper-thin chip into my neural socket. My vision flickers briefly and then I hear a voice in my ear. Someone new. “I’m going to be your operator today. I trust you have the things you were asked to bring?”
“Yeah. I downloaded it all, got the cables you wanted. It wasn’t easy to find some of those data matrix formats, but I did; the plugin is possible, for sure.”
“Good. Let’s begin. I need you to get me all the information possible on the Building and its layout, stretching from lowtower to hightower. You’re most likely to find this in some kind of server room. The reconnaissance you’ve done previously should come in handy here.”
“Alright. I have a pretty good idea of where I’m going.” Based on my pre-existing knowledge of the Building, combined with the expertise of the Organization I’m working for, I’ve formulated a plan. I exit the bathroom, passing by familiar spaces of aquamarine tiling and tinted glass. I ignore the security cameras. Trying to avoid or shut off the entire security system of the Building is many orders of magnitude more difficult than coming up with an alibi. I just need to make sure I have an excuse for anyone who asks, or looks at the security footage — which is very doable. The elevator dings and I step in. I press my finger against the mirror-like scanner for a moment before the doors close and I’m going up, higher and higher, up the tiers of this hive of offices, storage spaces, meeting rooms, and whatever else is beyond my clearance. I get off the elevator after a minute or two.
Polished marble stretches out in front of me, shimmering with promise and money. This hallway breaks off into several others. I take the one immediately to my left. My hands tremble slightly at my side as I do my best to take long, confident strides through these unfamiliar passages. I pass strange brutalist amphitheaters, hulking storage rooms I can’t see the end of, and even a small garden tucked at the end of a cramped hallway. After what feels like far too long, I find a dataport (a small slot usually used to upload data to the Building’s private datacloud). I lean against the wall near it, fake a yawn, count a few moments in my head, pray, and slip a small bronze chip into the wall slot behind me. If I’ve planned this all out correctly, what I just did was not seen by security, or any of the recording software. I wait a few seconds and then I begin to walk quickly down the hall.
The operator says, “Good. We’re on schedule. Cameras are off on this floor for the next, let’s see . . . three minutes or so. Get this done quick.” Three minutes? This better work out . . . I slip into the door I’m looking for, completely unremarkable save for a tiny light shimmering at the top of the door. The door is unlocked, so I go inside. The room is crammed floor to ceiling with what look like lockers. Cavern-black exteriors surround glass panels, through which I can see countless red lights, glowing pores of a great sentient construct. At the far side of the room, a wall panel slides away and a small metal object seems to slither out. A security drone!
“Oh, for the love of . . . There’s a sec-bot! What do I do?” I stutter into my earpiece. The voice in my ear is calm.
“Prove you’re the right person for this job. Prove we didn’t make a mistake in hiring you. Fry it, or get control. Quickly, now.” The security bot closes the gap quickly.
“Employee 14-909-32F, you do not have clearance for room 657-12B. Leave the area immediately or you will be removed.”
“Won’t even call me by my name, huh?” You need this. You need to succeed. You need to be free. I lunge at the security drone. It zips away from me, but I’m fast on its tail. I hear a small psht and a small dart zips past my shoulder. I jump at the drone, the pistons in my legs firing, and pin the drone to the polished floor. It struggles, but I’m stronger than it. I smile, not entirely sure why. Then, I retract a small piece of metal in my thumb and take out a cable, plugging it into the drone’s data slot. Programs flow through my head, making me dizzy, and then it’s done. The drone floats, wobbles, then slides back into its slot in the wall, sedated.
I pull a concealed full-access-plugin out from the inside of my pant leg, attach it to the same thumb wire, and then I walk to a console at the other side of the room. If I mess this up, I’m probably going to get my brain fried by some kind of firewall or security system.
I stick the plugin into the slot. I am linked to the Building, and the Building is linked to me. My vision goes black, then salt-blue, then numbers and letters begin to materialize, and then coherent shapes, puzzle pieces. I begin to organize the technosoup all around me.
“Yeah. I downloaded it all, got the cables you wanted. It wasn’t easy to find some of those data matrix formats, but I did; the plugin is possible, for sure.”
“Good. Let’s begin. I need you to get me all the information possible on the Building and its layout, stretching from lowtower to hightower. You’re most likely to find this in some kind of server room. The reconnaissance you’ve done previously should come in handy here.”
“Alright. I have a pretty good idea of where I’m going.” Based on my pre-existing knowledge of the Building, combined with the expertise of the Organization I’m working for, I’ve formulated a plan. I exit the bathroom, passing by familiar spaces of aquamarine tiling and tinted glass. I ignore the security cameras. Trying to avoid or shut off the entire security system of the Building is many orders of magnitude more difficult than coming up with an alibi. I just need to make sure I have an excuse for anyone who asks, or looks at the security footage — which is very doable. The elevator dings and I step in. I press my finger against the mirror-like scanner for a moment before the doors close and I’m going up, higher and higher, up the tiers of this hive of offices, storage spaces, meeting rooms, and whatever else is beyond my clearance. I get off the elevator after a minute or two.
Polished marble stretches out in front of me, shimmering with promise and money. This hallway breaks off into several others. I take the one immediately to my left. My hands tremble slightly at my side as I do my best to take long, confident strides through these unfamiliar passages. I pass strange brutalist amphitheaters, hulking storage rooms I can’t see the end of, and even a small garden tucked at the end of a cramped hallway. After what feels like far too long, I find a dataport (a small slot usually used to upload data to the Building’s private datacloud). I lean against the wall near it, fake a yawn, count a few moments in my head, pray, and slip a small bronze chip into the wall slot behind me. If I’ve planned this all out correctly, what I just did was not seen by security, or any of the recording software. I wait a few seconds and then I begin to walk quickly down the hall.
The operator says, “Good. We’re on schedule. Cameras are off on this floor for the next, let’s see . . . three minutes or so. Get this done quick.” Three minutes? This better work out . . . I slip into the door I’m looking for, completely unremarkable save for a tiny light shimmering at the top of the door. The door is unlocked, so I go inside. The room is crammed floor to ceiling with what look like lockers. Cavern-black exteriors surround glass panels, through which I can see countless red lights, glowing pores of a great sentient construct. At the far side of the room, a wall panel slides away and a small metal object seems to slither out. A security drone!
“Oh, for the love of . . . There’s a sec-bot! What do I do?” I stutter into my earpiece. The voice in my ear is calm.
“Prove you’re the right person for this job. Prove we didn’t make a mistake in hiring you. Fry it, or get control. Quickly, now.” The security bot closes the gap quickly.
“Employee 14-909-32F, you do not have clearance for room 657-12B. Leave the area immediately or you will be removed.”
“Won’t even call me by my name, huh?” You need this. You need to succeed. You need to be free. I lunge at the security drone. It zips away from me, but I’m fast on its tail. I hear a small psht and a small dart zips past my shoulder. I jump at the drone, the pistons in my legs firing, and pin the drone to the polished floor. It struggles, but I’m stronger than it. I smile, not entirely sure why. Then, I retract a small piece of metal in my thumb and take out a cable, plugging it into the drone’s data slot. Programs flow through my head, making me dizzy, and then it’s done. The drone floats, wobbles, then slides back into its slot in the wall, sedated.
I pull a concealed full-access-plugin out from the inside of my pant leg, attach it to the same thumb wire, and then I walk to a console at the other side of the room. If I mess this up, I’m probably going to get my brain fried by some kind of firewall or security system.
I stick the plugin into the slot. I am linked to the Building, and the Building is linked to me. My vision goes black, then salt-blue, then numbers and letters begin to materialize, and then coherent shapes, puzzle pieces. I begin to organize the technosoup all around me.