The Resident awoke to the sound of his phone ringing. He lifted his head and groaned as he noticed the saliva on both his keyboard and his face. He looked around, addled and unable to discern his location. Finally, when he became fully cognizant of his surroundings, he wiped his face with the back of his hand and reached for the phone. “Hello?” he said groggily.
“Is it done?” asked the voice on the other end.
“Almost, sir. I just have to send out the virus to all the viewers and everything will be set,” remarked the Resident as he moved his mouse.
“Don’t let me down. This all needs to be done by 3 o’clock.” The large man hung up.
The Resident looked at the clock and noticed it was 2:01 AM, and he decided that if he worked for an hour straight, everything would be alright. He had initially planned on being done by 2 o’clock, but he must have dozed off and fallen asleep on his computer. Whenever the thunder began to settle, the unremitting rain became a soothing, inescapable lullaby.
Outside, the rain had slowed up, but the drops still hit the roof and all sides of the small house quite loudly. The Resident rubbed his forehead and sighed; it had been a long night. He took a drink from the chipped white and red coffee mug, but the last bit of the dark liquid was cold an unsatisfying. I could make more, he thought, but I don’t want to risk missing this deadline. The Resident knew that the next hour shouldn’t be too bad since the worst of the storms was typically over by now.
He had finished removing all evidence that the story had ever existed and now all he had to do was to send his specially developed virus to all electronics with a digital display. This virus was the main reason the large man sought out the Resident’s help; no one had ever made anything like it. And it worked.
YOU ARE READING
The Resident
Science FictionIn a strange town in a strange world, the Resident must survive the increasingly damaging nighttime storms.
