1.34: In Which It Talks

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     James takes a deep breath, not sure what to expect, before stepping into view.

     81 sat on his bed, legs crossed, sweat glistening on his naked chest and legs. He still wore his black boxer shorts. Strangely, his bed sheets and covers were thrown onto the floor and he was clawing at a hole in his mattress. A tub of pudding laid next to him.

    "81?" James said with caution.

    81 visibly jumps, startled by the voice. "I'm not doing anything!" he holds up his hands as if to prove his point.

    James tries not to react to how bad the other man looks. His skin was pale and hair drenched, with a crazed look in his eyes.

    James tries not to wince. Sweet Jesus please don't come onto me. "391 sent me to help you get outta here."

    A goofy smile lifts his features. "She said she'd come back for me..." An eye twitches. "God, I'm gonna fuck her so good."

    James sighs, stepping into the room. "No. No you're not. She's with 254 now. And it's the gas talking. You need to snap out of it."

    81 gasps, clasping his hands together. "Oh! She found him? That's amazing!" he exhales heavy. "He'd kill me if I stuck my worm in her drain again. Can I fornicate with you instead?" he whines before crawling off of the bed.

    The ex-guard backs up. "Sorry, man, I don't swing that way."

    He growls in frustration. "Just give me a chance and I'll show you how good I can be."

    James rubs his forehead. He felt too old to be dealing with this shit. "I'm going to draw you a map out of here, and then I'm walking away. You come near me, I'm punching you."

     - -
    
     Unfortunately, 81 grew handsy, and James had no choice but to knock him out.

    "Fuck," he curses, looking down at the unconscious man. He couldn't drag him out of here. He had other things he needed to do.

    "I'm sorry, man. I don't have the time," he says regretfully.

    Shaking his head, he walks away with guilt gripping his insides.

    He was doing this to be a better person. To help instead of hurt. And yet he was failing already.

     - -

     Closing the door behind him, James examines the room.

    Computers lined the walls with cables dangling from the ceiling. They looked surprisingly old fashioned but he figures that what happens when you're failing your job - you don't get funds for fancy new gear.

    At the far end of the room sat the main computer. He could tell from the way it connected to the ceiling like a cylinder, wider at the top. It's what they told him to look for. 

     He steps towards it, dodging thick wires which snaked across the floor and ducking under the ones as high as his chest. It was a mess.

     He already has the small, rectangular device Danny gave him in his hand by the time he reaches his destination. It takes him a moment to find the slot it fits into amongst all the different buttons. 

     The screen fixed into the cylinder flickers on. Green coloured code scrolls faster than he can read it. It takes a minute and he starts to get impatient. What if it wasn't working?

     And then code stops, and bold letters appear on screen. 

     ACTIVATE SELF-DESTRUCT?

Y / N

     James takes a breath. He knows the moment he presses 'Y' he'll only have ten seconds left to live. He won't make it out alive. But he wasn't afraid. What else did he have to live for? The guilt of everything he'd done to protect his mother ate at him. If it wasn't now, then it would be in some run-down motel with a bottle of whisky chasing down pills.

     At least this way his death would be helping the same people he'd hurt. 

     He nods once and then reaches forward. Just before his finger connects, a new message pops up.

STOP

     He pauses. "Huh?"

     And then:

RUN

     His head jerks back in surprise. "Is...is someone there?" How was a goddamn computer talking to him?!

     GET OUT

     Danny  hadn't mentioned anything about this. It was very clear that he wouldn't be leaving here today. So what was this about?

     The words scramble until new codes appears. Again, it was too quick for him to read. 

     "What the fuck?" He didn't understand. The countdown should have started already, and he should be dead. "Who are you?"

     Four numbers suddenly appear on screen, flashing. 

     3114

     "What does that mean?" He mumbles. 

I...

I AM...

I AM 3114

     3114311431143114311431143114

      The numbers fill the screen one by one, as if someone was typing them to him. Then they're deleted.  

     GO

     "I can't. I need to bring this place to the ground," he says with frustration. 

     The words disappear again, and then the self-destruction option is back. Only this time, the screen is fuzzy and flickering. He frowns at it. 

    "S-self-destr-ct...act-vat-d," the feminine, robotic overhead voice says. The sound like patch-work; as if someone was forcing her to say it but she was trying her best to stay true to her automated script. "Co-ntdo-wn 't-il self-destr-ct  - 10  sec-nds - 10 -10 - 10 -,"  it repeats like a broken record before the voice returns to normal, as if nothing had happened. "Three minutes. Self-destruct in three minutes."

    James lips part and he blinks in disbelief. "How?" he whispers.

    GO NOW

     He doesn't need to be told again. "Whoever you are...thank you."

     And then he breaks into a run. 

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