79
The computer room was once corporate standard white: drywall painted high-gloss white, wooden ceiling tiles painted the same white, porcelain floor tiles a slightly different shade of white but even more glossy.
The dirt shows up like mad.
And the gun-toting technician’s blood, of course.
The pain in my side feels like a weight, dragging down the right side of my body. I try to breathe slow and regular to distract myself from the stabbing sensation, but the gas mask over my mouth and nose makes each breath a little more difficult than usual. There’s no way I’m taking a breath of Nasty Uncle, though.
At the far end, beneath a sputtering ceiling light, three tall cabinets with cracked glass fronts contain pristine stacks of computers. Most of the blinking lights are green. Computers
