Work Text:
****
<TMP modem noises>
<Augustus starts reading >
“Fragmentary text from 1980s popular culture song, artist unknown.
Button your lip
And don't let the shield slip
Take a fresh grip on your bullet proof mask
And if they try to break down your disguise with their questions
You can hide, hide, hide
Behind paranoid eyes.
Fragment terminates.”
***
Colin is sitting in a large black swivel chair, in the middle of a circular bank of a dozen or so monitors. The overhead lights strung above and behind the monitor banks cast a slightly reddish glow, that contrasts with the black and green illumination of the screens themselves. He can’t see beyond the circle of computers, as the lighting only reaches for a few feet, and beyond this is inky black darkness in all directions.
He hears one of the computers emit a beep, turns to it , scrutinises the screen, and types in a rapid-fire string of code from the wireless keyboard on his lap. Then he checks, and exhales with a grim satisfaction as he sees the errors are corrected.
“That’ll teach ye, ye wee beggar”, he mutters.
Another monitor beeps a few minutes later, and he swivels around in the faux-leather gamer’s chair he is hunched in, which creaks slightly as he turns. There is a pint-sized opened can of fruit flavoured Relentless energy drink in the chair’s integral cupholder, and every so often Colin takes another chug then continues working.
It occurs to him after about an hour that the can should be drained by now, but it doesn’t seem to be getting emptier. He corrects the last of the monitors, and sits back for a minute, satisfied that all the errors have finally been corrected.
Then there is a curious mechanical grinding noise, and to his surprise the entire circle of computers move smoothly downwards through a set of hatches that have opened in the floor around him. The hatches close, and then with a further ratchetting noise, a new set of almost identical CPUs and monitors pull out of the shadows to encircle him once more. The first one beeps, and he realises that they also have code that needs correcting. The overhead lighting, meanwhile, has changed colour to orange.
Colin holds his wireless keyboard and groans. He reaches for his drink and realises that it has somehow changed into a freshly opened pint can of sherbert-flavoured Monster.
Colin frowns. How long has he been doing this for, exactly? And when did he last eat, or come to that, sleep, or go for a slash?
He feels a brief twinge of hunger, and looks down to see a cheese-and-onion-spread sandwich has appeared in his lap. “Ach, ye tight gets. one o’ the cheap ones” Colin says, but he opens it anyway, and types one-handed as the next monitor beeps for attention.
He is deep in one particularly knotty section of debugging when Colin hears the steps of someone approaching his work area. Cursing at the distraction he looks up.
There is a curious giggle from the slim curly-haired man approaching him, whose cascade of blonde ringlets are backlit by the orange bulbs.
“Oh, but don’t let me stop you” says the stranger with an impish grin.
“On the contrary, I think you’ve only just got going, haven’t you? “
There’s something odd about his voice, thinks Colin, Some kind of distortion. It sounds as if he’s speaking through a voice filter or something. But he cannae be, he’s right here.
“Who are ye?” Colin asks “I’ve not seen ye around here before. Another of Lena’s new hires?”
The man sidesteps nimbly to get closer to Colin, and leans over the gap between two of the monitors.
“Oh no” he replies in a high-pitched sing-song voice, “I’ve been around far longer than that! Although, I must say, I’m not used to these surroundings. My, it’s almost like a holiday outing!”
He giggles as if at his own little joke. Then he holds out a slim, pale hand, and Colin realises the man is wearing a multicoloured swirling silk dress shirt with a hypnotic psychadelic print, a feather boa with iridescent flecks, and a lacy frill at both shirt wrists.
“Och, a visiting dandy are ye? Well, I’m Colin Becher, and I’m busy, as ye can see. What’s yer name?”
“Don’t you want to guess? No? Oh, such a pity. Well, I’m Michael. Though just telling you seems rather dull, I much prefer the scenic route of conversation myself.”
This guy’s completely barmy, thinks Colin. Whit on earth is he doing here, and when is he going to leave me in peace? Cannae he see I’ve work tae do?
“Ooh, I’m not leaving for a good while yet!”says Michael. “We’re going to have a little fun first, I think. Play a few games, chat a bit…”
Colin looks up at Michael and his eyes narrow. He speaks through slightly gritted teeth. “I didnae speak that out loud…”
“Of course you didn’t! But it’s fine, you don’t need to here. We’re both dreaming, and I love making up fun new rules in my dreams, so just thinking at each other works perfectly, unless you want to use boring normal spoken words like everyone else does?”
Dreaming, hey? thinks Colin. Well, I suppose that makes sense, in that it explains the neverending tasks and the refilling food and drinks cans.
“I like me thoughts tae be private, if it’s all the same tae you” he says firmly.
“Oh, how dull” Michael sighs. “Very well, if you insist”. Colin feels a sort of heavy klunk, as if in his imagination someone just has snapped shut a letterbox that they had previously been peering in through. It’s a very odd sensation.
“Now where were we?” Michael trills.
“Ah yes, dreaming! I have no idea at all why you picked me, but I’m very happy to be illuminating for you. Of course you can’t trust a word I say, but that’s just part of the fun, isn’t it. Now what would you like to know? I presume we’re here to swap ideas, unless you actually do just want to keep working?”
“I’ve got to keep working. There’s something wrong with the computer”
“Oh yes”, says Michael gleefully. “Yes there really, really is. Isn’t it exciting?”
Colin looks up at him suspiciously.
“Do ye actually know what’s wrong with it? is that why you’re really here? Tae give me some proper information? “
“Oh heavens, not at all! I assure you I’m thoroughly distracting, and expect to be no help whatsoever!”
“Well then” says Colin, “I’ll thank ye tae shut the hell up and let me get on with things”.
He finishes fixing the last computer in the set, sits back, chugs his can of Monster, and sure enough: clink, clunk, ratchet…. the bank of now-working computers recede into the floor and again are replaced by another batch needing work, and the overhead illuminating lights morph to yellow.
“I hate to tell you” says Michael, “but you’re in a dream, it’ll just keep on going. you’re not actually meant to be able to finish…”
“Yeah, but I dinna have to listen to you if I’m working” Colin replies.
“Well, aren’t you quite the charmer! I’m almost tempted not to warn you about Fr3 -D1, which I suspect is what I’m meant to be doing”.
Colin looks up sharply.
“Whit do ye mean? Stop stalling, Michael. Ye’d better tell me quick, before this dream finishes. That damn computer’s got something unnatural in its core, something evil and I need tae know why…”
“Oh I think you know already, dear Colin. The others all think you’re paranoid, don’t they? But you’re only paranoid if it isn’t out to get you…. And of all your lovely friends in the place you work, you’re the only one who can see that it really IS. Out to get you, I mean.”
Michael smiles broadly.
“It knows you can see it, Colin, and it’s coming for you. Every little fix brings you closer to it, but the beauty of it is you just can’t stop tinkering. You’re engineering it, Colin, just the way it wants you to.”
“And here’s one last little secret Colin, Just for you! “
Michael leans in, uncomfortably close to Colin’s ear as he sits immobile, trying not to react, and his whisper is loaded with exuberant joy .
“I’ve … heard … it ….before! I know him, And when he finally gets to you, he’s going to enjoy it Oh so much... “
Mocking, distorted multilayered laughter fills Colin’s ears, and he wakes in a cold sweat, alone in his bed, and realises he’s overslept.
****
The O.A.I.R is completely dark.
Lena fumbles for her phone and turns on the integral torch.
“Alright people, what exactly happened there?”
“Something’s tripped the fusebox, I think” comes a voice from Sam. “Maybe Colin plugged too many extension leads in to feed all the terminals.”
“Well, I’ll get onto the caretaker to come and reset it. In the meantime, get yourselves coffee, the kettle’ll still have warm water in. May as well have a break now to save time later.”
“Slavedriver” says Alice.
Something in the computer watches them go. It also notes that the coatstand now has an iridescent trimmed feather boa just peeking out, tucked away at the back of the lower hooks behind the green cardigan.
It logs that data and bides its time, for it knows there’s no rush. Colin will be back soon. It can wait.