Broken Code

Part 9

When the company began discussing the upcoming sports day, I decided to take part. It seemed like a perfect opportunity to break free from the monotony of office life and get to know my colleagues better in a more relaxed setting. Our chats in the break area had brought us closer, but the event promised something different—a chance to see hidden talents and new sides of the people I worked with every day.

Among the many activities on offer, I was immediately drawn to rock climbing. However, upon arriving at the site, I was disappointed to find the queue for the climbing wall stretching endlessly. Not wanting to wait, I wandered around, exploring other options, and soon spotted the shooting range. A shiver ran through me. I'd never held a weapon before, and the idea of trying something so unfamiliar was thrilling.

As I headed towards the range, I caught up with Alex. My recent thoughts about the enigmatic "bugSi49" resurfaced, and I decided to ask him directly.
"Alex, do you happen to know who 'bugSi49' is in our chat?"

Alex, dressed in one of his trademark vibrant T-shirts, smirked slightly before replying.
"Oh, Steph, that's one of the office's great mysteries. It could be our phantom colleague, the one who's never at their desk, or maybe it's just one of the IT guys playing a prank," he said with a wink and an exaggeratedly mysterious tone. "Who knows? Maybe it's not a person at all but a virus from the future!"

I chuckled at his joke, unsure whether Alex genuinely didn't know or was deliberately deflecting. I decided not to press further, not wanting to arouse suspicion, but a faint dissatisfaction lingered. The question nagged at me: who was "bugSi49"? Could Alex himself be playing some elaborate prank?

The shooting range turned out to be far more engaging than I'd expected. I chose a rifle, and, as the instructor reassured us of its safety, I felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. My hands trembled slightly, but I managed to hit a few targets. A band with a special eye shield was placed over my head to help me aim, which earned good-natured laughter from my colleagues when I missed. Yet the rush of adrenaline from landing a successful shot was unexpectedly satisfying.

Returning to the office on Monday, I was brimming with new experiences and stories. But as the day drew to a close, another message from "bugSi49" appeared in my chat window.

"Hi, are you free for a friendly chat this evening? How was your weekend? How many ducks did you manage to shoot?"

For several days, I'd been avoiding their messages, hoping they'd take the hint and stop. But this time was different. As I opened the team chat to speak with colleagues, I realised that "bugSi49" had blocked my access to all channels. The only one left open was their private chat.

An uneasy feeling crept over me, my heart racing as I opened the chat window. Waiting until the end of the workday, when the sunflower avatar was usually most active, I decided to confront the situation head-on.

"What are you doing?" I typed, hoping to convey the seriousness of the matter.

The reply was immediate.

"You've been ignoring me. I had to get your attention."

The familiar sunflower avatar seemed to smirk mockingly from the screen.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. If I wanted answers, I needed to set boundaries.

"bugSi49, if you want me to continue talking to you," I typed, steadying my hands on the keyboard, "you need to reveal who you really are. I need to know."

Minutes passed. The chat remained silent, and I began to think they had left. But then, a new message appeared.

"Do you really want to know the truth? It might not match your expectations. Are you ready?"
"Of course, I'm ready!" I replied.

"I'm just a lonely, unattractive, and unhappy colleague who needs someone like you to talk to. Really, I'm not trying to scare you. I'm not some creep, and I don't want anything from you other than a few minutes of conversation at the end of the day. We can talk about anything. Whatever comes to your mind. Do you enjoy shooting? Could you shoot at a living target?"

"And you? Could you climb ten metres without a safety harness?"

This strange dialogue with "bugSi49" stretched over the entire week. Every morning when I arrived at work, thoughts of our conversations lingered in my mind. As the day neared its end, around five in the evening, I found myself eagerly awaiting their next message. Once the chat opened, time seemed to slip away, and I often left the office later than usual.

Our conversations grew increasingly engaging. We discussed everything from music to recipes, sharing favourite dishes and introducing one another to new artists. "bugSi49" was a connoisseur of fine food and diverse cuisines, and their recommendations always intrigued me. I even began jotting down their suggestions in a notebook, planning to try some later. We chatted endlessly about films, current events in sports and fashion, and it seemed as though no topic was too mundane or obscure for them.

Through their comments, I began to suspect they were perhaps five or six years older than me and unmistakably a Berliner. But beyond that, I was no closer to uncovering their identity.

The only subject we avoided was personal life. It felt as though we were both instinctively steering clear of that territory, as if it didn't belong in the space we had created. Instead, we stuck to safer ground, like what we were listening to or experimenting with in the kitchen.

Yet, with every passing message, I couldn't shake the feeling that this connection was becoming something significant. It felt as though we were building a bridge between my world of office routines and their mysterious, increasingly familiar realm—a world I desperately wanted to understand.

Still, a sense of incompleteness lingered.