Chapter 5.2 Connecting

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New Sumer's evening clouds softly adorned the black surface of its tallest superstructure. Goliath headquarters: Holographic terminals, white jumpsuits, the diligent fingers of overtime employees, and synthetic seats. Headphones, headphones, and more headphones linked engineer to client and coworker. Here lay the 7th floor, where David passed through the computational rows in his distinctive green coat and hat, stopping at the request of a woman. He distinguished her via the blonde bun. 

"Director," she beckoned.

David honed in on her workstation. "Update?"

"More crashes and CrownSoft bugs."

"Again? Did you inform them we're investigating the issue and will implement fixes as soon as possible?"

"Yes, sir. There's something new in this report, however."

"What is it?"

"The user marked it as resolved but I noticed that—when the digital signature page was disabled—it happened during a mobile navigation blackout. Entire sections of the city were disconnected from the network."

David scowled. " How are the servers?"

Several keys led a graph onscreen. "Stable," she said. "No anomalies of any kind."

A beep from David's earpiece. He tapped to listen but heard static. "David!" His name called, he turned to a man in a white suit down the row. "They are asking for you up top."

"'Up Top?'"

"The Overseer."

Confusion grabbed David's glance before he leaned beside the subordinate's terminal. "We should get this sorted out soon. Proceed as usual while I see what's going on."

"Yes, sir."

An invitation from up high seldom blessed the lower offices. David pondered this as the numbers illuminated: 22, 23, 24... And with his brief meditation, the solitude somehow soured into languid thoughts. He rose, yet somehow dove, into a mystic place. Despite years clawing above the ranks, sowing the seeds of trust, the realm above his head was always detached and beyond. The elevator doors slid like portals to another world.

Dim lights. Walls of reflective polish enclosed the nearby secretary's desk. The entire workstation was floating. Everything else was the whiteness of a lounge that preceded a set of double doors. To his right, past a transparent screen, lay a web of rainbows. By their very nature, holograms were supposed to be immaterial, yet the opposite was true in the darkroom, where orange anatomical maps, blue code logic, and red grids slithered through the fingers of upper floor personnel. They materialized from holo-braces, translucent gauntlets powered and illuminated by cuffs. David stared at the artificers of light in white-collared coats, characteristically long ears and eyes of bright focus.

"Salutations!"

David was startled by the formal, high pitch. Behind him snuck a woman in a white one-piece, white hair in a bun and yellow eyes glistening like her wide teeth. She seemed rather short for an Azarean. "I'm expected by the director," the director said instinctively.

The Azarean woman rotated and sauntered around the desk, with a perfect gait. "What is your name?"

"David Morner: Director, Software."

A flick of her wrist and green light flickered above the desk. "Then you may enter. You are expected."The doors to the next room slide open.

David nodded, then noticed the room's window to the city. It surrounded an ovular table with legless chairs on either side. Inside, every corner held a vase on a column, home to a breed of orchid he'd never seen; their teal and white petals oddly swooned to an invisible wind, as if sapient.

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