MF1.0 - 06 - 2am

It was two in the morning again.

Across the room from Stef, three of her fellow code monkeys had created their own little LAN party – taking the night off instead of working on the task at hand. She stared at the screen until it got fuzzy. ‘Code Steffie get up, get coffee,’ she muttered and pushed herself back from the desk. It took a minute for her legs to cooperate, then she stood.

 The coffee pot was empty. It stared at her and beared its lack of liquid life without shame. Grasping it by the handle, she lifted it and hurled it across the room at those that had emptied it.

She swore in binary, and headed down the hall to her room – a lack of coffee was definitely a sign to give up for the day. It wasn’t like she could remember the last time she slept in a bed anyway.

The door to her assigned room was ajar – wishing she hadn’t thrown the coffee pot, she grasped for a small vase on the table next to the door and lifted it.

The intruders weren’t thieves. Nor were they an apparent threat to anyone.

‘Room five is mine,’ she announced to the mid-coitus couple occupying her bed.

It took them a minute to stop. Her expression didn’t change when the top half – Dorian turned to look at her. ‘Er…’

She reached down to his discarded pants and lifted the key chain. ‘I’ll take your room for the night. We will never speak of this.’

‘Can…?’ he began.

‘Yes,’ she said tersely, ‘I’ll lock the damn door.’

‘Thank you Spyder,’ Dorian mumbled as he turned away.

She locked the door, she replaced the vase, and made it five feet down the hall before giggling. There was no blame to be had – all of the rooms were identical, and in the dark, even more so.

Dorian’s room was down the end of a long, lonely hall, lit only by the light coming through the picture windows. The night was quiet, lit by a gibbous moon and a few brave stars that managed to shine through the light pollution. She stopped to watch for a moment – there was a high wind, clouds appeared from nowhere and disappeared almost as quickly.

She turned the key and opened the door to Dorian’s room.

A silk covered boudoir wouldn’t have surprised her. A four poster bed was almost expected. A large portrait hidden under a heavy cloth wouldn’t have been a stretch.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">A dark staircase surprised her a little.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">She sighed, muttered the binary for a question mark and felt for a light switch. Since this secret passage hadn’t skipped the twentieth century, it was lit. A self-mocking laugh escaped her as she ascended the stairs. Things like this were supposed to happen to frail blonde girls in inappropriately see-though nightdresses, not insomniac hackers who were still wearing their sneakers.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">She closed the door and started on the stairs.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">In situations like this, you were supposed to be afraid and say “Oh My” over and over until you ran around and broke your ankle. No wait, not broken, sprained – just enough to be ineffectual.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">You weren’t supposed to climb the secret stair in a crumpled purple top while noting the energy efficient light bulbs and the lingering smell of fresh paint.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">The door at the end of the staircase opened with the same key.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">A monster stared at her as she opened the door.