Killing Time OST – 18b – Anger

<< 18a – Anger

Everybody was wrong from time to time. It was the logic of things, an expected concession one had to bow to occasionally in order to have opinions and beliefs. Still, there was ‘being wrong’, and then there was ‘seeing something you always thought was true debunked in your face’. Like when you were sure you had the lyrics of the song right until someone laughed at you come karaoke night, and you realized you should have looked at the monitor.
That was how I felt when I saw the lock. Exponent a gazillion. For most people, the engraving meant nothing, except that someone had gone out and beyond to revamp the concept of the lock and key. We expected mega-corporations to throw money out the window on seemingly ridiculous stuff.
But I recognized the engraving. It was the negative of something I had grown with. Something I thought embodied love and loyalty though the monitor wrote me a song of treachery and manipulation.
My father’s ‘wedding’ ring.
As far as I could remember, I assumed the ring was a testament to my parents’ eccentric youth and that my father never took it off in memory of my mother. I could almost hear the cruel laughter of the crowd and feel the blush of humiliation reddening my cheeks.
Do I even have a mother?
“Lor don’t!”
I bit back the rage and the urge to hammer down the door. All the fibers of my being commanded violence.
Why? I have my proof.
“They’ll do it again. To another girl.”
My father’s legacy; free will’s mayhem.
“See this through and you can stop it.”
The unfairness shook all my vertebrae on the way down my spine and the bones leading to my fists. I exhaled and dropped my backpack to the ground. Reality phased out of existence except for the task ahead of me: picking the lock without leaving a mark. I steadied my muscles. I slowed my breathing. I ignored my teeth set so hard on my lower lip that I tasted blood.
We didn’t have time.
“No way the engraving is the only aspect of the key,” Vexx said in my head with a level, professional tone. “Blueprint it for me, please.”
I aimed, pressed and waited, concentrating on my breath as if I was in the middle of a yoga class instead of a crisis.
“Adrenaline might prove useful though.”
Shut up!
I couldn’t deal with gray right now. The whole spectrum of emotions had to go black or I would lose it. The overflow boiled under my skin and risked disabling me as surely as if it broke my bones.
My dad wore the key to the secret server entrance of the mega-corporation that made me: Lab-grown killer 1.0.
“We don’t know that.”
I growled. As far as I was concerned, conjectures were dead and gone, leaving only the seared mark of betrayal. Anger rose in me and I dropped the Blueprinter.
“Position the orange ray projector.”
The clinical tone reined me back in line. Reality receded again, and through a bubble of dissociation, hands pushed aside the blue and red ray projectors to grab the orange.
Color coding, good. Emotions, bad.
The tripod found a stable footing on the ground and rose to the height of the lock, securing the projector in position.
“Electric plugs at twelve, five and nine.”
The plugs – more like skinny chopsticks – moved from the bag to their assigned position around the lock. They found small holes to wedge themselves in and a battery linked with them.
Cold mechanical things, I chuckled, I should be just like that too.
“Turn on the battery and projector in five…” The pull of Vexx’s demand shut out the voices in my head. He had done this for month after my surgery.
When the countdown hit zero, the radiation hit the lock and the electric plug tricked it into feeling pressure.
“Bring the twelve o’clock plug to three.” The quarter circle movement resulted in a faint click. “Go.”
I’m so broken I’m more of a robot then when I was under tech’s control.
I forced the thought away from my mind and dived back into the cloudy waters of indifference. The door opened in silence, revealing an oversized office with a couple of chairs and a dozen holographic stations. I hadn’t heard guards since the first two left.
“And if we have any luck at all, there shouldn’t be more. To your left. Third terminal.” I followed the directions and jammed a portable modem on the computer Vexx designated. “Lor?”
Vexx’s voice forced me back to reality. I blinked a couple of time fast. Had he called my name more than once?
“You’re going too deep in detachment mode. Come on. It might not feel like it but this is where your revenge starts.” No thought responded. “Plug in The Device.”
While data from the mainframe transferred to The Device, I packed the lock picking tool. I carefully avoided looking at the engraving. When I came back inside the computer lab, I felt a bit more like myself, as if my body found a balance between the deep ends.
“It probably did. Covering the transfer’s tracks.”
On Vexx’s go, I unplugged the modem and The Device. The first went in the backpack. The second met with an external hard drive to download all the content of the mainframe into my servers. I lodged them in a side pocket before throwing the bag over my shoulders.
Then we rewound the scene of my entrance, exempt the guards. Standing under the security camera, I waited for the spider to come back to me. Same thing when I came out of the elevator. We wished to be as invisible as possible. Impatience didn’t manifest this time around.
Anger came back though.
As soon as I started my run back to Merrilyn Plaza, I felt the bottled rage feed my muscles more efficiently than when Vexx pissed me off.
Good.
We didn’t have time.

18c – Anger >>

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About Aheïla

Somewhere in Quebec City, Aheïla works as a Game Design Director by day and writes by night. Known for her blue hair, unyielding dynamism and tasty cooking (quails, anyone?), she’s convinced “prose is the new crack”. She satisfies her addiction daily on The Writeaholic’s Blog and weekly on Games' Bustles View all posts by Aheïla

6 responses to “Killing Time OST – 18b – Anger

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