Hacking the Sun - The Re-Remake

Chapter 8 Blindsided 3/4

Bots similar to recycle bots swept Apple Mire Suites. The grey eggs scanned along the hallways in a sweep that lasted over an hour. Despite their giving the all-clear signal to residents, some apartment vigilantes were still paranoid. Depending on their choice of news station, some would stay paranoid. Therefore, across corridors, residents took it upon themselves to patrol and shout, "Report suspicious activity!"

Inside room 59, however, Only Jessica's desktop gave any kind of hum. A standout voice reported yesterday's events, live, with a remorseful tone. Listening to him talk about Pine Rim Hovels was like wading through mud in the rain, but she liked the man's earnestness. She listened,  beside the door, huddled in her corner opposite the holo-screen, face buried in her knees. She hadn't bothered to change out of sleepwear, despite noon.

"This is more than a list of names..."

Patiently, she awaited his recitation of the victims' names. He went so far as to add epithets.

"Jeromy Terence Leone was an afterschool technician who had arrived two years ago to help his mother...

"Dolores Bunham Alowitz was a sitter who, at the time, was looking after a friend's German Shepard...

"Karl Huam Yunis was a driving instructor for the DSV whose friends said he would bring flowers for all the clerks...

"Bethany B. Sanders was a retired firefighter whose long years of service awarded her The Medal of Courage, The Medal of Gallantry, Service Recognition Medal, and Distinguished Service Cross; those who remember her said, 'Beth's defining trait was that she never placed herself further than second'..."

In the pause that followed, the reporter surrendered a moment to suppress his impending emotional breakdown. His choked cough hit the microphone before he continued. "Ingrid G. Nguyen developed—"

A ring dialed over the broadcast. The call appeared on the monitor and Jessica lifted her head. It was Shannon's whimsical face, possibly the one person who could hope to lift her spirits. She did not answer.

Hitherto, Jessica lived in a pit of lethargy. Two days since she nearly died, the solitude slowly festered into pessimistic thoughts.

"I'll kill myself if I stay here."

After a deep sigh, she decided to change clothes.

***

David took a break from his computer to peer through the office window. The seventh floor's employees went on as normal, diligent and undisturbed. Sunlight hit the lotus vase on his desk. Their petals, something about the yellow tinge distracted him. Then he paid closer attention; curiously, the flower reminded him of a fist.

Eventually, he abandoned his seat to stretch his legs, but the moment he opened the door and beheld the cadre of busybodies, restlessness returned. Instead, he paced around the room, intently watching his staff's collaborations, then peered at the memo board. 

He walked over to the terminal with half-eaten tacos. "Azeem," he beckoned.

The engineer looked up, startled—swallowed, cleared his throat—and darted his eyes. "Yes, mister director?"

"Director. Do me a favor and pull up the caches from two days ago."

"Of course!" Azeem's monitor conjured a stream of files.

"Now, I want you to find the outbound signals."

"Are we looking for something specific?"

"I need to know who transmitted the coordinates during the attack."