💾 Archived View for clemat.is › saccophore › library › shorts › defcon › 24 › DEFCON-24-Samantha-C-N… captured on 2021-12-03 at 14:04:38.
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Title: NoticedAuthor: FinalPhoenix There are some people you weren�t meant to notice. There are some people your eyes aren�t supposed to pick up; they�ll pass over them easily as they blend into the crowd, another face without a name, another life not worth knowing. John Edens was that kind of guy. �Mister Edens,� her professor, a cranky old man who had little patience, but a loud voice interrupted her daydreaming. �Late again.� Her eyes, still half lidded from her lack of sleep the night before, scanned over the packed lecture hall to see the person her professor berated. Mr. Edens was missable person who looked much like everyone else. He was in khaki cargo pants and a green polo shirt that looked like it had been run over by a car recently. She had never seen him before, but now that she had, she wondered how she had missed him over the semester. John Edens� fingertips were black, and that was enough for her to notice him. �Nicole, wake up! who is he?� She nudged her friend, another girl asleep on her desk, her homework a mess of scribbles, half done, all wrong. The redhead next to her rubbed her eyes and looked blearily at the kid who was hurrying down the steps of the lecture hall to an empty seat near the front. �John?� Her voice was tinged with tiredness and a hangover. Nicole squinted before letting her head fall back down onto her arms �Some hacker kid I think? He won something at a con...death con...something.� Her sentence trailed off as she fell back asleep. �The death con thing? He won a programming thing? He won something at a death con? Is he smart? Nicole!� �Quiet! Miss Chartreuse, I do not tolerate interruptions.� There was a snap of a book shutting and she sat upright, her friend doing the same. �Yeah,� Nicole continued, her voice barely above a whisper. �It was a big deal last year; whatever, he�s just another loser in a sea of losers.� Nicole was bitter about the engineering department because she had failed this class twice. �Maybe,� She bit her lip. �Maybe he could help us though, Nikki. If he�s a hacker, maybe he knows a lot about programming, too.� �Yeah, if he was a hacker, how about he changes our grades?� Nicole pulled her hair back into a bun. Emma knew what that meant: Nicole was going back to sleep. She sighed and watched her friend, the only other girl she had met so far in the Engineering program, create a pillow out of homework and books, and cuddle in for a long lecture nap. Emma was a freshman in the Engineering program, and struggled with even the most basic Java questions. Her parents told her that if she wanted money, this was the ticket, except she absolutely hated everything about it. Emma was a short ex-track star with the body of an otter and the brown hair to match. She wasn�t the typical engineering student, and her past as an athlete only seemed to work against her. �I�m going to stay behind and ask the professor some questions,� Emma said as the lecture ended. Nicole handed her homework paper to Emma, eraser dust still stuck to it. It matched Emma�s own. �Turn this in for me, then. I don�t want to get that look that he gives when you turn in homework that looks like this.� Emma braved the look and handed in her paper quickly to the professor, trying to ignore the �disappointed father� glare before hurrying off outside. She was going to catch up to the hacker, John Edens, and see if he could help. He didn�t have any friends; he couldn�t say no. She pushed through the sea of exiting engineers to find him and caught a glimpse of his stained green polo rushing across the lawn in front of the building. �John! John Edens!� She bumped into a few people as she broke free from the crowd. John Edens had black hair that looked like it had been cut by his mother, a clean bowl cut all around, black eyes that matched the oil stains on his shirt, and skin that was so white he looked ghostly. John Edens only glanced back once before picking up his pace. Emma broke out into a sprint, her backpack slamming against her as she rushed across the lawn. She caught up and then passed him, turning around and beginning to walk backwards in front of him. �You won something at the death con thing, right?� She asked. It came out in a slurry of words between gasping breaths of air. She was too out of shape for being one year into a track and field scholarship. John did not meet her eyes as he spoke, instead focusing on his ratty sneakers. �It�s n-n-none of your bee-beeswax, Em-Em-Em-Emma Chartreuse, Fr-Freshman.� Oh, she almost tripped as she realized why he had no friends; John had a debilitating stutter. She second guessed asking him to tutor her; a stutter might just make things harder on her. She squeezed the notebook in her hand, full of C�s and D�s. She had no other choice; no other boy would talk to her. Stutter or not, if he was smart, he was going to help her. �You know me?� She asked. �Listen, I�m not gonna beat around the bush, John Edens. I need a tutor; I�m really bad at this nerd stuff, my parents will pay, and heck, I�ll pretend to be your girlfriend if you can do Java.� His response had no stutter, but she missed a step in walking backwards and tripped over her own feet. �No.� He didn�t stop to help her, just carried on across campus. �Ok,� she said, gritting her teeth and dusting herself off, catching up to him. There was no way she was letting him get away with perfect grades on the line. �Maybe we can just be friends or something, then? Or I can just copy your homework? Nikki says you�re a hacker; can you hack my grades for a fee?� �Not-Not-Not that kind of hack-hacker.� The last word was said deliberately, and in a measured tone. She saw a blush suffuse on his face. She knew he was embarrassed by his speech impediment, but she didn�t care. �What kind of hacker wins things at a hacking con called Death Con, then?� �Def-Defcon.� He turned back to her, his mouth opening and closing as he decided on what best to say to get her to buzz off. He decided to ignore her instead. She huffed and looked down at her notes, an almost word for word copy of every lecture, since she had no idea what was important or not in these classes. If she failed, she would lose her scholarship, and her parents would be furious. This kid was smart, and had no friends. He wasn�t like the other engineer boys, who sat in quiet groups all glaring at her and Nikki. He had no group. Emma and Nikki would be his group! She was determined. She changed tactics and began to question again. �What�s your major?� He set his jaw for a minute, and she was sure he wasn�t going to reply. Eventually, as they passed under another set of shady trees, he responded. �Robotics.� �Oh, cool, is that what you won at the death con?� �Def-Def-Defcon, and yes.� She cheered internally; he was talking to her now. She knew it was only a few conversations and a cup of coffee away from all As now. �I�m in Computer Science, but it�s hard! Robotics is probably harder.� She fed his ego easily. She didn�t care how stupid she sounded; she hoped he would take pity on her. A fall breeze picked up and scattered some leaves in front of her. He stopped to let the leaves pass, as if he had expected it. She did the same. Emma�s hair blew in front of her eyes, and she noticed he was watching her. She smiled to herself. They were friends already, so maybe she could get the homework help tonight. �Eh-ma.� It was an annoyed Nikki; she knew that voice anywhere. �What?� Emma looked away from John, only to feel his fingers brushing her arm. His fingers were cold. She drifted away from him slightly, wondering if they had gotten too close by accident. �Lunch or nah?� Nikki had a thumb pointing back over her shoulder towards the dining hall. �Sure.� She turned back to John to invite him along, but there was no one there. �Yeah, let�s go. I�m starved.� Emma looked around campus, wondering if maybe she could run and catch up to him to invite him, but this side of campus was all science and mathematics. She didn�t know it well enough to have a clue as to which way he went. She rushed over to Nikki, who was asking about what their nasty Java professor thought about the homework. Emma only listened half-heartedly, looking over her shoulder every few minutes. She wondered if she could catch sight of John. He disappeared so suddenly; she hadn�t gotten any way to contact him. No homework help tonight.*** She scribbled in pencil at her homework, occasionally checking Wikipedia for reference. �It wasn�t going to get her full points, but it�d get her a halfhearted �at least you tried� point. �It was better than nothing. The tip of the pencil broke and she set it down, frustrated. Nikki had fallen asleep again, drool slipping out of her mouth and staining the worksheet. It had been a few hours since lunch. The sun was low enough in the sky that it set a glare off across her screen. Emma stretched in her seat and decided that a walk and an energy drink, might get her through this worksheet written by Satan himself. She extricated herself from the booth quietly, hoping not to shift anything enough to wake up Nikki from her nap. Her worksheet fluttered to the floor and, hoping to teach it who was boss, Emma left it there. The cafeteria hallways were quiet; it was not quite dinner time yet, but too far after lunch for anyone to still be eating. She saw a few students running to make a class, but she could hear the clunk of the doors echo. Emma spotted him then, his bowl cut unmistakable as he slipped into the convenience store that was tucked inside the mess hall. A smile spread across her face, but she quickly schooled her features as a plan formulated in her head. They would bump into each other accidentally, and she would ask him if he would like to join her for dinner. Of course he would, because she was so charming and his only friend in the whole world; he would grab both her hands, exuberantly say yes, and pull out all the homework for the semester. He �had already done it all, of course, and would, hand it to her, and tell her that he was just testing her tenacity earlier, and she gets all A�s forever. Also he hacked into her grades and gave her A�s in every other class too, and would help Nikki because of friends. Yes! Emma tried to hide the skip in her step as the plan solidified in her mind, and brushed against his shoulder in front of the energy drink display. She noted she was a good head shorter than he was, her nose barely reaching the top of his shoulder. He stiffened at the contact and reached out, grabbing a can of her favorite energy drink. �Oh! That�s my favorite too,� she commented as she reached out to grab one, but instead he handed it to her, before grabbing a different one. She narrowed her eyes. Did he just choose a different one to spite her? Did he really want nothing to do with her so much that he�d choose a different drink? She squeezed the cold blue can in her hands and bit her lip. What happened to the plan? What happened to all A�s forever? �Oh, um, thanks, I guess. Did you know that was my favorite?� He gave her a noncommittal hum before turning to the cashier. She noted his feet hit dead center of every tile in the convenience store. How many days had John come here to know exactly where to step? Maybe she was overthinking it again. It was a fault of hers; she always picked up too much detail, and never the important things. She thought back to her useless lecture notes and chastised herself. He had the exact amount ready before the cashier rung him up, and she stepped up to pay for her own drink. The cashier, a bored girl who wore a shirt that was much too big for her, and had pink highlights that were much too bright for her looked up boredly. �It�s already paid.� The cashier�s dull green eyes looked over at John who was exiting the store. �Yeah? I�ll go thank him then.� She shifted the cold can into her other hand and ran to meet with John. �Do-Do-Don�t follow me,� he said as she rounded the corner. His hand was so tight around the black can in his hand that she thought it was going to burst. His knuckles were white, and he did not look back at her. She pretended to be uninterested, but something about his words felt familiar. It washed over her uneasily and she shifted the can, and her weight before she responded. �I wasn�t going to!� Emma realized how stupid it sounded now, because she had followed him. �I was just heading this way, don�t flatter yourself!� He looked back at her now; his eyes caught the last light of day, and �she was sure they glowed. His whole body was tense. His jaw was set. He looked like a dog about to fight. �Good.� She wanted to know why he was so angry at her. She hadn�t done anything wrong by trying to befriend him. Emma took another step forward and he stepped backwards, towards the glass double doors a few feet away. Her breath caught and she felt like this scenario was all too familiar. She didn�t care if he hated her. She didn�t care how he felt at all, because all she wanted was homework help. Tutors didn�t need to like their pupils, right? Emma looked down at the can in her hand, the condensation on the aluminum running down into her fingers, trying to come up with the right set of words to make him like her. She was a likable person, she was sure of it. He just had to like her enough to give her all his homework. �Listen� John.� She looked up to see the glass doors swinging shut, clattering as they met. Emma sighed in frustration. Wasn�t it supposed to be her job to play hard to get? She pushed open the doors angrily and began to follow him back across campus. �Don�t follow me.� She mimicked in a whiny voice �I hate you because you�re nice and pretty and perfect, Emma.� She would show him. Her feet kicked up leaves as the fall afternoon grew colder. She was only wearing a t-shirt and jeans today, and wished she had brought a jacket. She hugged herself, and then winced when she realized she was still holding an ice cold can, letting out a hiss as she yanked it back away from her. There was the squeal of a door hinge and she looked up from her energy drink just in time to see the doors to the Mathematics building slam shut. Nikki told her that Mathematics was a dead major, and the building reflected that. It had fallen into disrepair and disuse. A few professors were there only to prop up other majors that needed their expertise, but without funding for the department, the building suffered. Nikki said that people thought it was haunted and laughed, telling her that it was the ghosts of post-doctoral students. She steeled herself, convinced she wasn�t afraid of some urban undergraduate legends, and yanked open the door a little more forcefully than she should have, noting the crack in the window that was covered with an old exam. There were cracks in every door except two. They all were identical. She wondered if the doors were made this way. The mathematics building really was neglected. She was the only one in the lobby, facing two elevators that she didn�t really trust to still be in service, a slotted screen in front of both of them that looked like they had last been used when her parents went to college. Her footsteps echoed off the walls; every smack of her sneakers on the tile was magnified ten times as she ran her fingers over closed wooden doors of abandoned lecture halls. The first floor of many. She saw him come in here. She just didn�t see where. It was no matter, for she was patient. She would find him, and convince him to help her. Emma closed her eyes as she rounded another corner, the hum of fluorescent lamps broken up by a clicking noise as one of them died. Nothing on the first floor, not even the ghost of a post-doc. She laughed her nerves away; what did she expect? The stairwell was so dark she used her phone�s screen to light the way. Air rushed up past her, howling as it struggled through the cracks in the concrete, blowing her shirt up slightly as she measured her steps. Fear crept in with the wind. What if these stairs didn�t hold? What if the second floor didn�t hold? Each step was harder to take, but she didn�t want to go back now. The second floor was home to one professor, the light coming from underneath his door as he marked exams. He seemed surprised that anyone would be in the building at all, and when she asked if he had seen anyone else, he shook his head. He asked if she was a math major, but she shook her head in response. He frowned and went back to grading papers. �Shut the door on your way out. Don�t waste my time.� It was on the third floor that she heard it, louder than the clicks of the fluorescent lights dying It sounded like bubble wrap being popped. She paused at the doorway to the stairwell, her hand resting against the cold metal, wondering if she should press forward. An intake of breath, and as she exhaled she pushed the door open. Smoke hit her in the face, the whole floor looked like a dive bar just before closing, the lights were either dimmed or broken, and the stench of something burning made her nose scrunch up and her hand cover her mouth, dropping her can on the floor. �John?� She yelled through her hand, hoping for some response. Was this the floor that he went to? Did he catch something on fire? The thought of him attempting suicide occurred to her briefly, but she tried to forget it. At the end of the hall, underneath one of the few lights that still worked, was a door that was cracked open with smoke billowing out of it. She kicked it open but the door swung back at her, her foot stopping it from slamming shut. There was a moan and she knew the voice--she knew it was John. Something deep inside of her recognized him without seeing him, and she got on her hands and knees, trying to crawl underneath the smoke and get closer to him. Panic made her fingers hurt as she pushed open the door again, slowly, pushing back against the body that was holding it shut. She slipped inside, realizing it was not much more than a broom closet. There was no fire, despite the amount of smoke that the closet was emitting, and she wondered if it truly was some misguided suicide attempt. �John,� she coughed, crawling over to his body. There was no light except for the screens of the laptops that had been set up around the room. Two red dots lit up the far corner, glowing softly in the smoke. He was lying on the floor, his body crumpled in a heap, wrapped around a busted laptop that was connected to something via a black wire that stretched over his hip and into the smoky room. She yanked on it, popping it loose, and immediately and there was the unmistakable whirr of a motor. There were two beeps coming from some machine in the room and her head whipped towards the sound, shaking John to wake him up, but he didn�t move. �Niceness value adjusted.� The woman�s voice was serene if not slightly monotone. Smoke seeped out of the room, and Emma wiped her watery eyes with the back of her hand and looked around the broom closet to try and find out what had spoken. There were a few monitors placed between cleaning supplies. John�s head was only a few inches away from a mop. She pushed him upright in order to get him out of the closet, but his head lolled on her shoulder, and the laptop clattered to the floor. �Wake up! Wake up!� How did she get involved in this? She just wanted a tutor! Was this what he had made at the death con? A robot that killed? �I�m sorry, I do not understand.� The voice came from the darkness and Emma looked up from John. In the far wall of the closet, illuminated by an old LCD that wrote line after line of gibberish without input was a robot of sorts. It was a mess of wires, twisted in some crude representation of the human nervous system, and at the top were two webcams with red lights that glowed in the smoke. It was horrifyingly beautiful. It was an achievement of sorts, awe-inspiring and yet terrifying. She shifted and the door opened enough for her to scoot out into the hallway, trying to get a better view of the mass of machinery in the closet. �What did you do?� She cried, hugging her would-be tutor to her as she tried to get them both away from the smoking machine. There was another pop, the same she heard before. There was a spark in the lower corner that lit up like lightning in a storm cloud. The thing spoke again, its tinny speaker struggled with the volume as it spoke in a calming voice that sounded eerily human. �Niceness value adjusted; adjust another?� �I�m nice!� she insisted, hoping to placate it, hoping to do something to get her out of this situation ��We�re all nice here.� A few more pops sounded and Emma screamed, cowering behind John�s limp body. Her heart beat wildly in her chest; each breath of the smoke burned her throat. Adrenaline pumped through every last nerve ending, and she dug her fingers into John�s skin, pulling him back against her, but she hit a wall. Meanwhile the snapping and popping continued. She looked up to see that the mass of wires was moving, and it was moving towards her. Its fingers were clenched like hers. Its mouth, or what could be considered a mouth, a grotesque imitation of metal, was slack-jawed like hers. �I am not nice. I am not nice. Adjust niceness value?� Emma didn�t know what kind of monster this was, what kind of death robot he had built, but she did not want to find out. She scrambled to her feet, tripping only slightly as she left the body of John in the hall. There was no way to carry him; the guilt that coursed through her was quickly pushed away because fear ruled her actions, and fear got her body moving down the dim, smoky hallway. She reached the door to the stairwell and turned back, wondering if maybe she could save John, the tutor who knew her favorite energy drink, but the robot was suddenly copying her movements. It stumbled over John�s body and then it swerved, its servo motors making an electrical whir as it bolted down the hallway towards her, its metal feet slapping against the tile. The robot was a mimic, and she didn�t want to be around to see what else it could do. She slammed the door to the dark stairwell behind her, clicking the button to turn on her phone�s screen as her feet hit every last step. Breathing became difficult and she coughed as she hit the second floor landing, but there was no time to catch her breath; she heard the squeak of the door. It was coming for her, just as it came for John. She should have never noticed him in the first place, damn him! Damn him for not cooperating and giving up his homework when they first met! She slipped on the last set of stairs, her phone clattering and her knee catching on the concrete, sending a jolt of pain that made her teeth clench. She could come back for the phone later, when the death machine was gone. Emma practically flew out the front doors of the math department, her fist hitting the glass door and sending a hairline crack snaking down to the corner. She stumbled out into the lawn and saw a campus officer patrolling as the last minutes of daylight slipped out of view. �Officer, pl-please!� She wheezed as she fell to her knees at his feet. �There�s a fire...a robot fire, please! He�s dead!� Her fingers balled into the blue fabric of his uniform and she noted his hands were warm as he grabbed her shoulders. �St-st-steady there girl, wh-wh-what is the-the matter?� Her eyes shot up, bloodshot and watery from the smoke in the building. �Pl-pl-please, you have to-to-to save hi-him!� She wailed, slumping down to her hands and knees on the pavement before him. �Wh-wh-where�s the fi-fi-fi-fire?� He had a stutter just like John did. Just like John had. Guilt and despair rose up as she realized that she had held on to him just after that robot had killed him, or had been ordered to kill him. Was it suicide? Was it murder? His dead body felt so cold in her arms. She had never seen a dead body before; it was seared into her memory. She would never forget that she had let him die in that broom closet. She could have saved him! If only she had bothered him more, or she had delayed him just a bit more in that hallway. If only she had followed him like he had told her not to! Emma exhaled shakily and closed her eyes. How would she explain this to the police? �Mister Edens,� a voice drawled, �late again.� Her eyes snapped open and she looked to see the boy whose corpse she had held walking down the steps in the lecture hall hurriedly, his head bowed as he tried not to draw attention while he found an empty seat. Her heart leapt, and so did her body, hitting her hip on her desk and hissing in pain. �Jo-John!� She called and the whole hall turned towards her, but he didn�t. �Sit down Miss Chartreuse; I will not have unnecessary interruptions in my class.� Her professor drawled as the class snickered, and she quickly was yanked down by Nicole next to her. �What do you think you�re doing?� her best friend hissed. �He�s gonna notice I�m napping and then what? Don�t be stupid.� �Do-Do you kn-know that kid?� Emma asked, and then quickly covered her mouth. What was wrong with her voice? Why was she stuttering? Nikki pulled her hair up into a bun on top of her head, and nestled back down onto her arms before murmuring �Some hacker kid I think, he won something at a con...death con...something.� Her sentence trailed off as she fell back asleep. Panic surged through her. Had she just fallen asleep during the lecture? D�j� vu washed over her like cold water, and she looked down at her notebook. The title of the lecture was the same as it was before; everything was the same as it was before. Her hand shook as she picked up her pen, and begin to copy the entire lecture down, word for word. That eerie feeling that everything was a repeat left her unsettled. She bit it down, swallowing her feelings of discomfort along with the stutter. Her professor shut his book and sighed, a long, disappointed sigh that said he was fed up with the college students. It signaled that the lecture was over, and she was out of the lecture hall like a shot. She had to find John. He had to remember what happened in the mathematics building. Someone had to remember that robot. They had to. John caught her out of the corner of his eye and slipped through the stream of students exiting the lecture hall and then across the lawn away from her. He did remember her; he remembered everything. She pushed some engineering student and broke through the crowd of people, rushing after him. He sped up, trying not to look back at her. �You-you-you-you remember, don�t you?� Gods, but this stutter was so embarrassing now that she had it. Every sentence took concentration. John Edens slowed his gait, his hands clenching into fists and unclenching. �I-I-I don�t know wh-what you�re t-t-t-talking about.� It hurt worse than she expected, maybe because it was confirmation that she was going crazy. She stopped walking, watching him get further and further away from her. She took a few steps and reached out her fingers wrapping around his wrist, stopping him just before the wind, the same wind from before, kicked up leaves that blew across the sidewalk. �T-T-Tell,� her mouth snapped shut as she concentrated on the sentence so that the next words came out measured. �Do you know me?� He looked at her, and an odd expression passed over his features before he looked away. �Em-Emma Chartreuse, Fr-Freshman.� �Eh-ma.� Nikki sounded annoyed, she looked back to see the redhead standing impatiently a few feet behind her. �Lunch or nah?� John used the opportunity to slip away. She felt him leave, their skin losing contact easily, but she wanted more proof that he wasn�t dead. She wanted more proof that he wasn�t lying in her arms in that smoky hallway. His stutter was now hers, like a communicable disease. She waited a second before responding, willing her brain and mouth to work. �Co-Coming!� They didn�t. John Edens took up all her thoughts, there was something different about him today, maybe this wasn�t d�j� vu after all.