Snippet #1487215

Three floors down from Freya Mortix's office sat a room that measured no more than fifteen feet squared. Unfortunately the edges were so cluttered with computers, machines of varying functions, dials, clocks, buttons, flashing lights and a seemingly endless number of tiny screens that the floor space measured no more than eight foot by twelve. At the front of the room was an automated door made of thick and heavy metal with no apparent keypad or lock. It was unmarked on the outside save for a small sign hung halfway up. It was a bleak, faded white with stark, orange lettering that read simply "Have Faith." Opening this door was only for the man who resided most of the time inside and the head of MortixCorp. Other than her personal voice scan the only key was the mind of Myrias Wesper.

An approaching visitor would see door open and they would smell before they saw the contents of the room. A stale, acrid odour seeped out; the combination of constant human (If he could still be called such) habitation and endlessly running machinery. The heat too was intense, though it was not a product of poor ventilation. It seemed the longer he lived the more he resembled the corpse he should be, requiring outstanding amounts of heat to keep warm and giving off the tangy, sweet aroma of decay.

Then the view. Possibly the most complicated system of computers set up in the whole of MortixCorp. Digital products of a dead age met the cutting edge of technology in a sprawl around the edges. And dead ahead, a twisted wedding aisle where the only guests were robotic eyes and the groom was locking into wedding vowes with artificial constructs. So much of his time was spent crawling through 'The System' that some people genuinely believed his very heart and soul was encased in the intricate wiring and that when he finally gave up his unnatural grip on life the programmes would keep running. To see him work would offer some evidence for that argument.


The room is dark, there is no need of light for The Enigma. The greatest puzzle for most is how a blind man crippled by age could possibly scoot from one workplace to the other and never miss a key as he typed and flicked screens furiously, endlessly, never growing tired of it. But then, not everyone knew he was super. It was also his job and Myrias was never one to let hardship get in the way of passion. His bony, black fingers skittered around and his mind went out into the very core of his machine, searching. Searching for the insurrection. Every trace of them, every mention, every possible lead was followed up and categorised. The categories were reviewed and analysed and theories made. But each only ever led to the same conclusions: Misinformation, deliberate bending of the truth or impersonators.

Despite every hour of daylight being spent inside tapping away The Enigma felt no anger at getting no closer to his goal. "Have Faith". They would destroy the heathens in time, She would make sure of it. She who was sent to the mortal world to reign in His place. As long as She gave the orders he would follow relentlessly. And the order was simple: Find them. No matter what the cost.

And he thought he was getting closer. He knew he was getting closer. He could feel it. "Have Faith".