🖥 iTerror (Watty's 2019 Nominee)

Part One: Frida DeLeon

      Frida awoke in a panic, startled by her five a.m. alarm. Her skin was flush; sweat settled on her like dew. The humid morning was already wreaking havoc on her small apartment's ancient climate control system. The sun blistered through the beat-up shades of her windows—another June scorcher. The city sat in the grip of a terrible heat wave which was unusual for San Francisco. She sat up, stretching her arms up over her head. I'd better get going before the day gets too hot, she thought as she swept the covers from her legs and stood up. Frida stretched her legs out, feeling the sleep tingle and disperse from her muscles as she hyped herself up for her morning jog. Frida dressed in lightweight jogging clothes, put her messy brown hair in a ponytail, and brushed her teeth vigorously. After an infection claimed a tooth last year, she made sure to take care of her mouth. Luckily for her, it was a molar that wasn't visible while she was speaking. She couldn't afford to have the tooth replaced.

Before stepping out the door, Frida strapped her step and fitness tracker on her wrist. She tapped the wristwatch-like device awake. It glitched for a moment, staticky silver spread across the tiny interface before it came to life. The correct time, date, and resting heart rate. She frowned. It had been real glitchy lately. She might have to get a new one soon. Her iFitness was pretty old, one of the newest models four years ago. Now, there were infinitely more advanced ones she had seen her displayed on her coworkers' wrists. She had only had her job at Onyx Inc. for 10 months; not enough time to save up much or get the raise that she had been waiting for. Once that 12 month mark hits though, she'll be set. Health insurance, a raise...she would be able to finish paying off her Mother's bills, student loans, and get herself the newest fitness tracker. Sueña, Mexicana. She thought with a laugh. Frida grabbed a small towel and her bottle of water before stepping out for her daily run.

Her daily work routine was uneventful in itself. Frida worked as a client advocate, which was just a fancier term for customer service. They fielded calls from all over the nation and solved problems that weren't related to tech. Frida was good at her job; her calm demeanor, easy laugh, and willingness to listen uninterrupted as people called with any number of problems made her a big hit among the clients. Because of the sensitive nature of their dealings, their department was away from others, behind a glass partition that separated them from the rest of the office. She preferred it that way, as the constant moving and loud noises from the others distracted her. Frida typed mundane reports on a computer and spoke on the phone with a few clients. She rubbed her eyes constantly, willing herself to wake up. Though the job could be boring at times, she still felt a sense of gratitude for having found such a well-paying job. She had finally gotten some luck in her life.

Onyx Inc. was situated on several floors of one of the newest high-rises that had sprung up in downtown San Francisco almost overnight. Most of her coworkers were spread out in the brightly lit, open concept office at stand-up desks, drawing on whiteboards with teams of coworkers; a Software Department meeting was being held in the glass atrium meeting space of the floor she was on. She could see them gathered around on the Persian style rugs, carpets, sitting cross-legged on the floor or on cushions. Some were taking notes while the department director leaned his tall frame back in his stool, speaking and gesturing. Frida watched him for a moment, taking in his sandy blonde hair and soft brown eyes. He was tall, 6 feet at least, Frida guessed. She unconsciously sat up straighter, trying to lengthen her 5'4 in frame.

His chiseled face moved in her direction as he spoke, and Frida suddenly felt as if she were in a movie. Casino, maybe, when Sam see's Ginger for the first time, and the song "Love is Strange" begins playing. She quickly swiveled her chair back around, hoping he hadn't noticed her gawking. At 12:35, she got up, stretched, and strolled to the cafeteria style lunch room. She met her fellow client advocate desk mate and best friend, Michelle Anderson, there. Michelle had a chicken salad and a bottle of Iced Tea waiting for Frida. Michelle was scarfing down lasagna and on her second Coke. Frida thanked her and sat down.