As much as Rashad is capable of alarm, he is alarmed. It would be more accurate to state that he is experiencing a heightened state of urgency as he observes ROMAC rapidly falling into disorder all around him. It began with a general alarm -- that is, alarm in the audible sense, klaxons blaring as the offices and cubicles were plunged into as much darkness as they could be on a sunny day -- and a sudden failure on the part of his computerized work station. What might have been a mere technological malfunction is more, though; everywhere he turns there is something else or someone else not functioning as intended, orderly systems of data and behavior disintegrating around him. No one with authority knows what is happening, much less what is to be done about it. Fring is absent, no, missing when he is needed most, and Rashad does not know how to fix this but fix it he will.
There is nothing he can do for the offices upstairs; he can navigate the computer system well enough to perform his duties but he does not understand its reassuringly orderly not-mind well enough to bring it back from apparent death. The source of the problem is not upstairs, and he knows enough of what is downstairs to intuit that the source may be in the basement, to even guess what who that source might possibly be.
He will venture to the basement, he will find a figure of authority if he can, and he will set things right so that the alarms can be silenced and the building put back to rights. It is easy -- far too easy -- to make his way to the subterranean levels, unimpeded by the locks and guards that formerly demanded stealth and secrecy, and far too easy to walk in and out of the labs and other formerly safe, secret places as he searches for someone or something he can use (or that he can allow to use him) as the tool that will put this broken machine to rights. He pushes open door after door, peering into rooms full of equipment he can barely begin to understand, his exterior calm and cool despite his rapid progression.
no subject
Everything is chaos.
As much as Rashad is capable of alarm, he is alarmed. It would be more accurate to state that he is experiencing a heightened state of urgency as he observes ROMAC rapidly falling into disorder all around him. It began with a general alarm -- that is, alarm in the audible sense, klaxons blaring as the offices and cubicles were plunged into as much darkness as they could be on a sunny day -- and a sudden failure on the part of his computerized work station. What might have been a mere technological malfunction is more, though; everywhere he turns there is something else or someone else not functioning as intended, orderly systems of data and behavior disintegrating around him. No one with authority knows what is happening, much less what is to be done about it. Fring is absent, no, missing when he is needed most, and Rashad does not know how to fix this but fix it he will.
There is nothing he can do for the offices upstairs; he can navigate the computer system well enough to perform his duties but he does not understand its reassuringly orderly not-mind well enough to bring it back from apparent death. The source of the problem is not upstairs, and he knows enough of what is downstairs to intuit that the source may be in the basement, to even guess
whatwho that source might possibly be.He will venture to the basement, he will find a figure of authority if he can, and he will set things right so that the alarms can be silenced and the building put back to rights. It is easy -- far too easy -- to make his way to the subterranean levels, unimpeded by the locks and guards that formerly demanded stealth and secrecy, and far too easy to walk in and out of the labs and other formerly safe, secret places as he searches for someone or something he can use (or that he can allow to use him) as the tool that will put this broken machine to rights. He pushes open door after door, peering into rooms full of equipment he can barely begin to understand, his exterior calm and cool despite his rapid progression.