Hey, sorry for the lateness. It seems my block was in a more serious state than I thought. Got over it now tho, I'm very sure of that.
In other news, Ayoade is king. I've been wathing Darkplace and Nathan Barley a lot lately.
So, a longish one for ya. Enjoyzz.
Moss' mother called the office just before five to let Jen know that Moss wouldn't be coming in the next day. From what Jen could hear in the background, Moss didn't seem too happy about it.
He was in the day after that though, and he entered with a wary, accusing glance at the Praemus system, but said nothing. He sat at his desk, visibly uncomfortable with having the unit so close, and tried to get on with something without speaking to anyone.
"Is everything alright Moss?" Jen asked him quietly.
"Oh, yes, everything's fine and dandy, dandy as Larry, Larry Hagman, J.R., who I believe led a fine and dandy life, until he got shot…"
His words faded to a small, incessant buzzing in Jen's head and she walked away, thinking that he would be back to normal, or rather, back to Moss, in a few days.
But after a few days, Jen was just as concerned. True, Moss didn't seem quite as hung up about the Praemus system as he had been, but Jen suspected that this was more to do with the fact that Moss had become better at hiding his mistrust than him actually getting used to it. Which must mean he was more paranoid, if anything.
And then Roy's work, what little of it could be said to be done, started to suffer. Initially, Jen was unconcerned, but when she began to notice comics lying unread, lingerie catalogues still in their plastic wrapping and containers of cold fast food left over from several days before, she started to get worried.
Roy stormed in after lunch one afternoon pinching the bridge of his nose, cursing as he tripped over one of Moss' gutted frames of salvaged hardware and unceremoniously kicking his desk.
"Headache?" Jen asked, briefly looking up from the latest 'Love and Rockets'.
"Yeah, it's been on and off for days," Roy answered, now seeming much more weary and less defensive than his usual self. "You know, uhh, migraines?"
"Yes."
"Do they just start, or do you have to trigger them?"
"I don't think they just start randomly," Jen answered. "You should go and see a doctor."
Two days later, she found Roy with his face buried in his arms. "Did you go to the doctor's?" she asked.
"Yeah, he said there was nothing wrong with me," Roy answered, not bothering to lift his head, and almost seeming to wince through his words.
"Weird," replied Jen, and, unable to think of anything else to say, she left.
"Hi Jen, it's Roy. Look, I don't think I'm gonna be able to make it in today. It's this headache. Migraine, whatever. It really hurts. I can't… I can't think. Weird dreams. I'm doped up on painkillers. Won't be any use of I come in. Okay, yeah, bye."
Jen was a believer in the concept of Sod's Law. Whatever she did to forget it, or try to make sure that it never bothered her again, it always came back into her life somehow, fault of her own or no, to bite her on the arse. And it just happened to be the day that Roy called in sick that the IT department had its first call for help in several weeks.
Moss had been finding the atmosphere in the basement quite oppressive lately. Even if Roy had been there, Moss doubted he would have been able to lighten the mood. Richmond was shutting himself away and only came out to silently make copious amounts of black coffee or eat sugar straight from the little packets, and he had never seen Jen so stressed since she first arrived, so adding his problems to her own would probably be tantamount to suicide. With that in mind, Moss was glad to get away and go up to ninth to fix a constant screen-freeze problem for someone called Cath.
He went up, figured out what the problem was in no time, and got stuck in. It was fixed within twenty minutes. Smiling, he returned to the basement.
"We've had another one," Jen called as he entered. "On twelfth. Random shut-downs."
This one was a little more tricky, but Moss enjoyed the challenge. He very rarely felt stretched by his job, so even when he was faced with something only slightly tricky he still enjoyed the feeling of satisfaction when he solved someone's problems. And Kristian, who had called, was unusually thankful.
And this was not to be the last challenge in Moss' day. That afternoon, he was called on to fix a blue screen of death on third, and when he returned he was told that there had been two more calls in his absence, one about a failed Internet connection, which didn't take long to fix, and one about the loss of some of the accounting files, which took him until the office closed. Moss left work that day feeling more fulfilled than he had in a long time, but he decided not to mention it to Jen or Richmond. He thought it might make them feel a little bitter.
It was almost enough to get him to forget about the Praemus units.
The calls continued for the next two days. Fortunately, Roy was back by then, and he and Moss managed to get over thirty people's problems solved between them on the first day. Roy as well as Moss left work smiling that day, and Jen also seemed a lot more relaxed. Even Richmond came out of hiding when Roy ordered a pizza to be delivered to the office, and though he couldn't tell whether Richmond was enjoying their company or just trying to mooch some substantial food after living largely off sugar packets for the last week, it made Moss feel a lot better.
The next day though, Moss realised Roy was working a lot slower than he was, and once or twice even found himself coming back to correct mistakes Roy had made. He decided not to mention it though, as Roy didn't seem himself again and probably wouldn't appreciate more problems being brought to his attention.
Because of the colossal amount of jobs they had been called on to do, Roy and Moss took their lunch brakes separately. Moss let Roy have his first, thinking it might help him feel better, and managed to sort out a few crashes on seventh before coming down to the basement. He found Roy flat out on the sofa, out like a light. Wishing he didn't have to, he leant down and gently shook Roy's shoulder.
"Sorry," he said as Roy's eyes slowly opened.
"S'okay," Roy groaned. He sat up gingerly, like he was aching, and pressed his palm to his forehead. "I don't get it. I was fine yesterday."
"Maybe it's work-related," suggested Moss. "You should have the week off."
"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Roy joked, but Moss couldn't help noticing the grimace concealed behind it.
"Yes," answered Moss.
Roy gave a low, short laugh, completely devoid of any mirth, that was almost painful to listen to. Then he got up and left the basement.
"See you in an hour, yeah," Moss called after him.
Even though they had managed to get almost as much work done as the day before, Roy's obvious pain, as well as Jen and Richmond's quiet worry prevented Moss from feeling uplifted as he left work that day. But what he didn't realise as he left didn't involve Roy at all; no one realised that it was Richmond they needed to be worried about.
Richmond had elected not to tell anyone how he was feeling. As he tended to be fairly quiet around the office anyway, he figured that they probably wouldn't notice, and even if he did seem amiss, surely his anxiety over Roy's wellbeing would be more apparent.
But this wasn't the dominant emotion going through Richmond's mind as his co-workers left and he ordered the Chinese takeaway to get him through the night shift.
He was scared.
He had felt uneasy around the office for a few days now, and it hadn't taken him long to realise his unease was caused by the Praemus unit. He had briefly considered confiding his discomfort in Moss, but seeing how much happier Moss seemed to be feeling, he had decided not to in case it turned Moss back into the paranoid wreck he had been when the unit first arrived.
Besides which, an inanimate chunk of armadillo-shaped metal was a silly thing to be scared of.
But then, he did have something of a gift for interpreting omens.
But also, there was the chance his fear was just deflected emotion being projected out of Moss and into him. He was fairly sure that was possible.
Richmond sat at Roy's desk, swivelling in the chair slightly, his eyes repeatedly darting back to the unit attached to Moss' computer, until a nervous looking delivery man arrived, doing a double take as he walked through into the basement office. Getting up, and becoming surprised to notice that in his nervous brooding he had forgotten to remove his floor-length cape and red-eye contact lenses now that there was no one around to see them, he paid the delivery man, increasingly conscious that if a stranger could enter and become so afraid of the atmosphere in the room so quickly, something must really be wrong.
Out of a habit he had picked up since the Praemus unit arrived, he took his takeaway into his room and locked the red door, drawing both bolts across as well, just in case.
He settled down on the bed he had brought in there and dug in, grateful for fatty fried foods after what seemed like an endless diet of coffee and sugar he had been getting lately. He mused on what he might do when he was finished, because watching the lights on that machine was quite frankly dull beyond all belief, and he had a sneaking suspicion that the machine didn't actually do anything.
His fear of leaving his room made the night shift a lot less bearable. He liked to go out into the rest of the office and stalk around on the ceiling, dropping on things and pretending he was the villain in a Hammer Horror film, but in the confined space of his room there was no thrill in that whatsoever. He had a laptop, but working in IT when you really don't know that much about it causes random browsing of the Internet to lose all its appeal. He had his books, but he had just finished 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' and he needed to buy some new ones. And there was always music or TV, but… he couldn't quite explain why, but he didn't want to make a noise with the Praemus unit outside. He knew it was silly, because the machine obviously couldn't hear him, but nonetheless he was still nervous about making a noise with it so close.
Noise.
What was that noise?
Richmond put aside his empty takeaway container and moved closer to the door. Pressing his ear to it, he could hear a sort of… slurping. A long, regular, repeated slurping sound, like someone drinking a Slush Puppy. Needless to say, he was confused.
He peered through the crack in the door. Nothing. There was nothing out of the ordinary there. Two desks, two computers, Moss' collection of hardware, some comics and magazines, the closed door to Jen's office. He could even just see the edge of the Praemus unit, attached to Moss computer, as it always was.
The slurping sound stopped.
There was a hollow, metallic crash.
The Praemus unit was on the floor.
Richmond pushed himself away from the door, afraid that the thing would see him against the light from the crack. He listened. There was a sort of scuffling, sort of gliding sound coming from the other side of the door. It was getting closer. It stopped.
Silence.
It was listening.
Crash.
Shit! It was hitting the door, trying to get in.
Crash.
Crash.
That thing was just a few inches from him.
Heart thumping fit to burst and breathing quick and shallow, Richmond crept as quietly as he could away from the door, crawling along the floor, to afraid to risk getting up, in case it heard him or saw him somehow.
Crash.
Don't make a sound. Don't make a sound.
Crash.
Don't make a sound, don't make a sound, don't make a sound.
Crash.
Don't make a sound don't make a sound don't make a sound don't make a sound don't make a sound
Crash.
Don'tmakeasounddon'tmakeasound
Crash.
Crash.
Crash.
Then silence.
Had it gone?
He sat there, against the far wall, almost panting, trying not to breathe audibly but unable to hear anything but his own pulse pounding in his ears.
He waited.
Silence.
How long had he waited? Hours? The thing must have gotten bored and gone. He hadn't heard it for however long.
Warily, he shifted his weight and crawled forwards to the door. He pressed his ear to the wall and listened more carefully before he moved to the crack and peered through.
Nothing.
The Praemus unit was gone though.
Shaking, he stood up. He knew he had to get out. He had to run while it was quiet, while it wasn't there.
He pulled the bolts back and unlocked the door with trembling hands, wincing at every muted thump of metal, which sounded like a heavy crash in the oppressive silence. He stepped out, glancing nervously around him, checking it wasn't there. He checked the ceiling, in case it was waiting for him up there, playing his own joke on him. It was nowhere to be seen.
He crept out of the office, eyes flicking around madly, checking for unseen Praemus assailants. Not trusting the lift to get him upstairs safely, he scurried into the gloom of the staircase. It must have been the darkness that caused it, even though he was usually perfectly calm and comfortable in the dark, but he panicked. He ran.
Coming up to the ground floor, he ran past offices and workstations, all with their doors open, all with the tiny red lights of Praemus units staring out at him from the shadows, watching him run, plotting his death.
Seeing them come closer and closer with every door he passed, he carried on running. They were coming closer to the doors. Closer.
He slammed into the wall on his left, catching sight of one of the machines clamped to the opposite wall. He stumbled slightly, but recovered himself and ran on.
Lights on the ceiling. Lights on the walls.
He came to reception, and the green glow of a fire escape sign filled him with relief. He sprinted for it, crashing into the glass and forcing his way through into the cold night air. He knew he was safe, but he was desperate to put as much space between him and those demonic machines, so he just kept on running blindly through the streets of London.
