Requiem at the Workstation
10:37 AM, Wednesday. Sunlight attempted to penetrate the thick glass curtain wall of the office building, ultimately dissolving into a uniform, characterless light that spread across the grey carpet of the 'Quantum Leap Solutions Inc.' open-plan office. The air was filled with the smell of caffeine, printer toner, and an indescribable metallic tang called 'efficiency'. I, codenamed K, like a silent screw embedded in a corner of this vast machine, my fingers moving across the keyboard as if performing some ancient, unquestionable ritual.
Then, Tanaka collapsed.