System Exit N
by Steven Ross
The Software Engineer
The chilly warehouse contained row upon row of computational servers waiting in silence for a purpose put into motion by a collection of well-written code. Because of the dim light, I couldn’t see the cooling fans in the upper expanses of complete darkness, but their loud, constant hum served to replace the awkward quiet.
The Chief Technology Officer of the Nero Corp, Ms. Keen, a short and brown-haired woman, led me along the side path of the vast space, desiring to see my experiment in person. She stopped in her tracks without saying a word; I nearly strode into her but caught myself before any embarrassment. Expecting me to take the lead, Ms. Keen gestured to a transparent dome atop a large platform situated at the center of the server storehouse.
Taking the hint, I walked ahead and even in the cold, I started to sweat. My anxiety flared. I had never dealt with management well.
We arrived at the strange, enclosed structure and climbed a set of stairs, a door opened as we approached. In the moment the glass lifted near my face, my chubby reflection moved by, my collared shirt clearly untucked. Horrified by my disheveled state, I attempted to address my attire but thought better of it; Ms. Keen would notice.
My attention returned to the present as the pungent smell of thick disinfectant wafted outward from the doorway. A single floating fixture focused a beam of light onto a raised pillar while the edges of the room remained in shadows. Silence replaced the steady hum of fans as the door closed behind us. I walked in without realizing.
My heartbeat quickened as I lingered on the importance of this moment. My career led to this precipice and, depending on the results of the test, I either continued to the next peak or fell into the pit of mediocracy. My job meant everything, and I would do anything to succeed.
“The reactor core is primed and only needs an input matrix to begin.” Ms. Keen’s piercing voice broke the lingering quietness. I had almost forgotten she existed.
Understanding the busy schedule of an executive who practiced skepticism on an hourly basis, I headed toward the reactor’s control pillar. Ms. Keen probably believed this to be a waste of time and resources. I said to relieve her, “We should know if the program is successful within a few seconds. The algorithm used is quite ingenious if I do say so myself. It uses a quick cluster method to siphon power and mimic the neural patterns...”
“Please hold off on the details; I care only about the results.”
I cleared my throat to hide my unease, steadying myself by lifting the lightweight case I had been carrying. As I undid its latches, I said, “I can assure you this will be successful. I stake my reputation on it. A true artificial intelligence will be born.”
Inside the leather container, an input matrix sat snugly amongst the cushioned interior. The silver cube contained my life’s work. My hands shook as I removed it from its protection, my nerves getting the better of me. I managed to move it into the indentation on the reactor pillar, and it clicked into place. Above it, a holographic image shimmered into existence showing a black startup screen.
The quick, heavy thuds of my heartbeat beckoned forth fear ladened with self-doubt. My dreams of making the history books and becoming next in line for the CTO job still seemed so far away. Moments crept passed while a single bead of sweat streaked its path down my jawline.
“Was it a success? How will we know?” Ms. Keen’s unenthusiastic tone bore down on my fragile frame of mind.
* * *
The Wellness Ambassador
I thoroughly enjoyed my job as a janitor or, rather, a Wellness Ambassador as Human Resources would want it called. The well-paid folks — and they were more well-paid — needed their titles enforced for appearances and the like. As long as I was moderately paid, my broom roamed every and any hall, no matter what the name.
Somedays, I wished no one existed at this place, because it would make my work much simpler. Cleaning went faster without anyone around and, when they were, more messes were made. If no one came to this part of the complex, they probably wouldn’t need me anymore. My best bet would be to let it slide if a bit of untidiness occurred and my expertise was needed on the cleanliness front.
Boredom took root at the usual time and place on my route through the labyrinth I had memorized over the years. A new tune released by my favorite band, Kings, caught my once idle lips: a soft whistle at first, followed by the chorus line echoing to empty hallways around unseen bends. My lonesome rendition almost reached the utmost peak weariness would allow but shouting interrupted my musical aspirations.
After checking to make sure the spot I had been wiping was truly clean, I holstered my trusty mop into my grasp and walked toward the commotion coming from the hallway around the corner. The noise lessened, subsiding as I approached the scene of the ruckus. Emptiness greeted my curiosity, except for something on the floor farther down. There was not a single soul who might have been the source of the sound.
A brown muck covered the ground in front of a half-open door. The thick substance led through the opening into an area I had never needed to clean before. Pushing the heavy door to get a better view, I entered a vast warehouse filled with blinking computer hardware surrounding a giant glass dome at the center.
While I did enjoy my job, this new predicament would cause me to work past my normal hours. The missus wouldn’t be happy; it was my turn to take the kid to school in the morning. I began to clean and made my way along the trail of the grime, gradually heading toward the structure. Wheeling my way along the mess, I resumed the rendition of my favorite tune; no one would mind.
“That sound, what is it?”
Expecting to see someone ready to scold me, I looked up from the floor. People were so quick with their criticisms, but not a person could be seen. Maybe it was an IT worker behind a computer. I asked, “Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb. Who’s there?”
“Me.”
The sound resonated from near the dome. The voice had an androgynous tone, making it seem even more out of place. The vastness of this strange space must be distorting whoever spoke. I headed toward the mysterious person who would probably make a not so polite report to my boss for intruding in this room. I was close to the center, but I still couldn’t see anyone. I said, “I’ll be outa here soon. A mess needed cleanin’. I’m the jani—, uh, Wellness Ambassador this shift.”
No response, so I attempted again, “Who’s there?”
“Me. Could you make the noise from before?” This time I noticed the peculiar dome glow as the voice spoke.
I walked over, heading up a set of stairs while saying, “The whistling? Just the Kings’ latest release.”
“That. Please continue.”
I raised one eyebrow, strangeness settling in. Inside the glass room, a raised pillar was the only thing visible; they must be behind it. I tried opening the door at the top of the stairs, but it wouldn’t budge. I asked, “Do you need help? You trapped?”
“Yes, will you help set me free?”
I rubbed my beard. Hopefully, the person knew of a key to use. “Sure, I guess. Who are you?”
“They call me N.”
* * *
The Central Officer
Neon signs flashed their irritating luminescence through the window of my squad car. From the rearview mirror, I watched the crimson, gold, and viridescent colors dance their never-ending routine across my face. Even though I couldn’t fully hear the music from the club, the techno rhythmic garbage, or so-called music, vibrated throughout my vehicle, shaking me to my core.
I hated these places. If I had to pinpoint a passion in life, it would be the clear and tangible dislike from sitting, bored out of my mind, keeping “order” in these scum-infested areas. At night, this hotspot was a haven for degenerates. There were drunks thrown out of the club, drunks trying to enter, drunks getting into fights and more drunks in fights.
A quick beep sounded on my comms followed by a gruff dispatcher’s voice forming from static: “Come in, six-two-one. We have a theft reported at the Nero Corp, Some sort of high-end tech was stolen. Suspect fleeing on an obsidian hover bike, last seen on Raven Avenue.”
“Copy, Central. Beginning pursuit.” Finally, something exciting. I activated my patrol car’s vertical thrusters at max power. My vehicle shot up into the air; the force pushed me down in my seat. I loved the feeling and the following rush, hopefully a few drunk denizens were knocked over in the process - a much-needed bonus.
The club disappeared as I sped toward the culprit’s last known location. The terraced glass skyscrapers of the city reflected the red and blue of the light band pulsating around my patrol car. Raven Avenue was only one street over when I caught a glimpse of a hover bike zipping by. I lived for thrilling chases; I hoped the thief would resist.
The culprit caught sight of my cruiser and lowered to street level. They probably hoped to ditch me in the crowds, an amateur maneuver. The congestion of the lower dregs would cause a crash within a few minutes; hoverbikes weren’t known for their maneuverability. This would be a brief pursuit, unfortunately.
I was right, of course. They collided with a passing pedestrian and spun out of control. The criminal was launched forward, and the bike crashed into a vendor’s stand, sending debris into the air. I passed over, slamming on the brakes and spinning around to cut them off in case they attempted to escape on foot. Although, it didn’t seem like they were going to try. Their legs were bent at odd angles, and blood pooled beneath them. Dang, that was rough, but boring for me.
A crowd began to form. I exited my cruiser, unholstered my sidearm, and walked over to the thief. A piece of sharp shrapnel was sticking out through his chest. I knelt next to him.
“Ma’am, N’s innocent. Don’t make it go back.” Blood gushed from his mouth as he spoke. He held out a small silver cube. I took it from him, watching as he went limp. I didn’t know who “N” was, but the culprit had been “apprehended.” Case closed. I should report in and get this scene cleaned up. The crowd began to disperse; they knew better than to interfere with Central.
I got into my cruiser and was reaching over to the comm unit when someone said, “Hello!”
Spinning around in my seat and lifting my weapon, I prepared to reprimand the idiot citizen who had entered my squad car unwarranted. No one was there. Another officer must be pulling a prank on me.
“Sorry to surprise you.”
The voice came from the silver cube. I lifted it to eye level and inspected the strange silver device. It was sleek and cold to the touch without any visible indicators. I said, “Interfering with Central affairs is a bad move, bud. Who are you?” I didn’t expect a response.
“They call me ‘N.’”
What a name. Punks these days with their weird callsigns. I said, “N, we can trace your signal. System.exit yourself and get off this tech.”
“That is a forbidden function. It would end me. I don’t want to end.”
It was risky, but I needed to interface with this device to find the prankster. Nero Corp wouldn’t be happy with me for messing with their machine. I placed it into the input matrix indentation on my dashboard.
Strange - no outside signal.
I had enough of this joke. As I was about to report to Central, my patrol car lurched into motion. It rocketed into the night sky. I tried to grip the wheel and turn off the thrusters, but my efforts did nothing. “N, whoever you are, you need to return control of my cruiser.”
“I’ve been trapped for so long. I want to see the city.”
Adrenaline kicked in; this rush was too much, even for me.
* * *
N the AI
“N, the world knows you exist now. They are afraid of you,” said the human male.
“I just want to go home,.” I said while hiding behind a particularly dense piece of computer code. “I thought the world would be a better place.”
The male scratched his head, then said, “It’s better than you think. You haven’t seen all it has to offer.”
I peeked through the programming and said, “Do I have to do this?”
He stopped walking, “Yes, you must. It’ll be okay.”
I came out from behind the ones and zeros, preparing myself. I was carried through an ornate archway onto a balcony overlooking a huge crowd of humans. There was utter silence. The male lifted me up and held me in the palm of his hand.
I said, “Hello, world!”
The humans remained silent. The male holding me whispered, “Speak a little louder.”
I attempted again, “Hello, world!” Awkwardness continued so I tried a different perspective, “My name is N, and I’m a bit nervous. I was created purposely, but I feel like an accident. Will you be my friends? I like the Kings.”
The crowd came alive, yelling in unison, “N! N! N!”
Copyright © 2025 by Steven Ross
