I stood in shock as the glowing blue liquid drained out of the tube. The red haired man, who's eyes were still closed, collapsed heavily to the ground. I blinked, my brain wanting to help, but my body remaining frozen. The man began to cough loudly, pushing himself to his knees, hands braced against the cold ground. Wires and nodes were attached to him, seemingly embedded into his bare skin.
When he managed to collect himself, he looked up at me, mocha eyes seeming to glow in the dim light of the other two bio tubes.
"Thank you." He panted and stood, wincing as the wires tugged behind him.
"Who are you?" I asked, completely stunned.
"I'm the man behind the mainframe." He states with a mischievous grin, eyes glittering brightly.
I shook my head. "No, I meant your name."
"I'm Mark. I'm the one that got you into this mess, and I am really sorry, but, we should get those two and start running..."
And just like that, with those words, I was a wanted man.
••••
Everyone knows about Google, one of the largest Web browsers on the Internet. So, it wasn't too big a shock when they announced they were coming out with a line of "personal assistant" moduel robots. Hell, it was just as impressive as Apple coming out with the IPhone 7. And much like the imminent interest in the newest IPhone, everyone wanted a module of their own. Sean had too, but he gained his in another way after stumbling upon an abandoned module while he was taking a late night walk.
What Sean -and everyone else in the world, for that matter- doesn't know is that the Google Corporation is actually harboring something deeper and more sinister behind the workings and makings of these bots. A secret that could easily diminish the entire Corporation if discovered. A secret they're willing to kill for. But, when a man going by the name of Mark starts communicating with Sean and needing his help, he's willing to go all in to figure out why?
{From Sean's POV}
A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it.
Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN.
I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value.
I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation.
My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss.
For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers.
I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid.
Our adventure came to an end.
Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it.
Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others.
I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks.
I lost it.
I hate this feeling the most.
In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight.
When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me.
Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.