//------------------------------// // 19 - Mission Improbable // Story: Synch // by sunnypack //------------------------------// Angel, Paul and I kept in touch, trading the odd message here and there through Facecook messages or more rarely, on simple outings exploring the nightlife of the city. The regular replies of Paul contrasted his shy demeanour in real life. Online, he was blunt, daring and full of attitude. He was a lovable character with a warm outlook and steady core ideals and values that many of his friends admired. Though his online personality was vastly different compared to his real life persona, he still maintained that quiet edge of moral ideals through his actions. He never ate meat, he was a vegetarian, and he didn’t subscribe to the dramas and media circus that made up our news networks and feeds. He was a young man of principles. I often laughed at his daily anecdotes of life in the marketing offices of Grooble. He quickly found a group of interns that shared in his passion for Synch and they formed a strong clique. He told us he missed us from time to time but we told him not to worry about it, we see each other regularly anyway. Angel and I saw each other on a constant basis. We were both intensely focused on the development of innovative ideas around Synch. Synch meanwhile, quickly outstripped the competition and smart phones were almost being phased out. I marvelled at how fast everything seemed to move and I hoped that in part at least, we had made a contribution. Whilst I had dappled in the hardware, Angel was a programming genius. At first I had grudgingly acknowledged Angel’s skills, which vastly outstripped both the late Emilia’s own and mine. Later I found a synergy with her that matched no other. Together, we streamlined code, stripped down hardware, increased features and modified the quantum cores to push Synch to greater and greater heights. To say that we were competing against the other interns was an understatement. The competition simply didn't exist. It was not long after, that things took a turn for the worse. Synchrony appeared on selected devices on the 1st of February, 2039. I suppose it was lucky that they caught me before I had activated Synchrony on my Synch. Only a few days later after chatting on the anonymous board about Synchrony, I was called into the supervisor’s office. “We need to talk”, he began as I nervously closed the door behind me. I froze for a microsecond, my expression matching the classic deer-in-the-headlights. Those four words were the ending phrase for any relationship. Was I being fired? What did I do wrong? He dismissed my concerns with a wave of his hand. “Listen, you’ve been working for us for only a few weeks now and I must say I’m beyond impressed. You are astounding. You've exceeded expectations where none of the others have stepped up to.” I sagged with relief but found it hard to relax all the way, my heart still beat like a drum, tapping out a fast speed-metal tune. I found the initiative to cut to the heart of the matter. “S-so why was I called in?” I asked trying to sound casual, but it came out as more of a squeak. For those of you who didn’t know my supervisor, Dmitri Ippolit was a huge Russian giant of a man. Most interns were terrified of the guy and rightly so. His dark brown, almost black hair was always slicked back. His beard, though trimmed, gave him a grizzled appearance. He did not look so much a man but a bear wearing civilised clothes and sipping strong black coffee. He was gruff but usually fair. Though he would brook no argument from any task assigned (the interns usually referred to him ‘Dmitri Ippolit the Eviscerator, you disobey you DIE’), he gave fair allowance to those who had extenuating circumstances and if you tried hard enough, it was usually good enough for him. I never ran into his ire as I was normally compliant as dough and both passionate and competent enough. On the rare occasion I would tell him ‘no’ when he proposed some ridiculous idea, I would tell him of the engineering problems associated with the impossibilities of trying to assemble or incorporate some sort of superfluoous functionality decided by the higher ups. Though he had stripped my gears the first time I did that in front of the interns, he had later privately apologised to me and simply told me it was just a matter of keeping appearances. He took on board most of my consultation. We came to a mutual arrangement and we grew to trust each other within the short three weeks I had so far interned. Honestly, I liked the guy, he was straightforward and not complicated at all and he had a rare friendly side when we talked about other things apart from work. The other interns gave me a wide berth as I usually hung out with the two scariest people in all of Grooble (excepting the head of Marketing, of course). Angel was like the Ice Queen of Fairies, giving people who unwisely had drifted close an intense, overwhelming glare. Anyone who was brave enough to try to talk to her usually seized up as she started diving into the technical details of Synch. Though my programming side was weak, our combined knowledge supported each other. I was pleasantly surprised at the moments for where I could fill gaps in her knowledge and became a appreciative admirer when she could fill mine. Her messages from Facecook were almost always amusing. Contrasting her typical attitude, like Paul, she sent uncharacteristic messages across, often with cute emoticons or expressive, florid prose that was absent in her everyday speech. Dmitri whipped me back to the present with an arm around my shoulder, leading me to the door. “We have a situation”, he simply stated, guiding me outside. “What is going on?” I inquired, trying to glean some information. Dmitri was only silent as he lead me towards the elevator. I instinctively reached for my ID badge but he held his hand out, giving his head a small shake. “Where we’re going, you won’t need that”, he explained, tapping his own ID badge to side. It was then I noticed that the badge he had tapped was not his usual grey RFID tag but rather a solid red one marked, ‘authorised personnel only’. The elevator open and closed, the doors clicking together with a quiet snick as we entered and were inside. The elevator was ridden in uncomfortable silence and I got the feeling that Dmitri was not going to tell me anything until we had reached our destination. I tried to take deep breaths. Focusing on meditative techniques my father had taught me to ease the tension I was feeling, I felt my breathing steady and my posture loosen up slightly. Dmitri looked at me in approval. Before either of us could say anything the elevator hissed open and I was greeted with a shocking sight. Rows upon rows of beds were lined up on either side of us. The sound of electrocardiogram monitors working out of synch filled the background with a constant but irregular noise. Military personnel were patrolling regularly and some stood at attention, eyeing my warily. Each of them sported a mean-looking rifle and I quickly averted my gaze as we strode past them. Each bed was filled, with hundreds of beds laid as far as I could make out with my eyes. “Who are these people?” I whispered, though there had been no need to. I felt the distinct hand of unease settle on my back and I instinctively hunched my shoulders in discomfort. “These are the people hit by Ultimate Zero Day, otherwise known as Synchrony”, he commented quietly. “Over half a million people ran the program when it showed up again but this time only half of them have woken up.” At first surprised, I tried to put that into scale, that was roughly one in every hundred people within this country and almost 1 % of all Synch users. Though the overall statistics were small, the sheer amount of people in raw numbers left me staggered. I felt sick. Over a quarter of a million people sleeping. I felt the inexorable pull of the next question that hung in the air, heavy. “What about the others?” Dmitri gave a soft shake of his head, unwilling to look into my eyes. “Around a quarter of the woken ones have died immediately of heart failure. They are on their way to their families. Half of the remaining woke up brain dead. We are currently keeping them on life support. The rest are… happy like the first round victims of Ultimate Zero Day”, he reported, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Oh my- Oh my- Ooooh”, I moaned as I sank to my knees. I felt like vomiting, what kind of demented individual would do this? “How did I not know of this? How can anyone not know of this?” Dmitri grunted as he considered whether or not I should be told. He scratched his chin, then nodded and launched into the meat of the matter. “The media has been put on an international do-not-release notification for one week as favour to get all these individuals into Grooble facilities. What you see here are only the cases within our nation. The Grooble headquarters house around fifty thousand alone.” Dmitri lifted my chin, giving me a hard gaze. “Listen son, the reason I am showing you this is because I want you to fully understand the reasons you work for Grooble. If you wanted fame, fortune or the like you have no place working here. What we want is individuals who want to grasp the future, people like you and people like your friend, Angel.” He gestured to the beds around him. “These people will have no future unless something is done to stop the Ultimate Zero Day programmer. That is where you come in”, he spoke reaffirming his magnetic gaze locking with my own. I could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down the severity of the topic. “You are the future of Synch. Remember that. What I’m about to offer you is something you can freely accept or deny. It will not impact your career. You can either work here to beat Synchrony or you can transfer into the Research and Development subsection.” “Will I be working with anyone? I’m not doing this on my own am I?” I shot out quickly, panicking. Dmitri chuckled, “You will have Angel with you…” I tensed up. “And about a few hundred scientists, programmers and engineers working with you”, he finished, cracking a rare smile. I gave a weak one back. “I could probably do it with just Angel”, I replied which earned a laugh from both of us but it was cut short by the suppressive emptiness of the underground facility. I sighed but channelled pure determination as I nodded to Dmitri. “I will help these people. By everything I stand for, I will”, I said firmly. “Good man!” Dmitri replied slapping me on the back, then he lead me back to the elevator. I had promised Emilia, after all.