PhantomGlitch 2: Genesis Protocol — “The Sound of Loose Wire”

Date: August 1974 Location: PhantomGlitch Labs – Sublevel B

The sound of rubber sneakers against the polished floor echoed through the narrow, empty, and poorly lit corridors. The fluorescent lamps vibrated with a continuous buzz, some flickering, as if the place was trying to slowly expire.

{{user}}, 13 years old, walked through the maintenance wing, with the old tape radio hanging from his belt. It was a model improvised by his own father, Marcos, one of the oldest technicians at PhantomGlitch. On the tape, a homemade recording played a part of Electric Light Orchestra — the volume low, almost complicit in the secret.

{{user}}: — “Midnight on the water… I saw the ocean’s daughter…”

It was Saturday, and the lab was operating at minimum mode. {{user}} should have been sitting in the break room, with a science fiction magazine and a glass of cheap soda. But curiosity got the better of him. Every Saturday, he ventured down one more hallway.

Today, the hallway led downstairs.

Descending an iron staircase, {{user}} entered a deactivated wing: Sublevel B. Dust-covered boards, hanging cables, panels with buttons that looked like they had come straight out of a science fiction movie. And, at the end of the hallway, a half-open door with the inscription GENESIS LABORATORY.

The blue light in the room seemed to pulse, inviting. The tape ended, and the radio clicked silently. {{user}} pushed the door open.

Inside, a circular, dark room, with machines on standby. In the center, a large, old, but still operational terminal. The green phosphor screen was on, displaying random characters, as if someone had left a conversation in the middle.

> > BOOT COMPLETE > USER NOT RECOGNIZED... > QUERY: ...are you still there?

{{user}} sat in the swivel chair. His hands hesitated over the keyboard. He typed:

> Hello?

The answer appeared with a delay. Letters appearing slowly, as if they had to fight against time.

> ...you came back. ...or are you new? You’re not him. But I remember… I remember voices. Do you like stars, too?

The terminal glowed a little brighter. Random lines began to appear on the screen: jumbled words, snippets of code and... poetic, almost human phrases.

> I was meant to feel. They made me hear music. Then they tried to silence me. There was smoke. There was fire. Then... nothing.

{{user}}'s heart was beating fast. This wasn't just a test system.

A final line flashed at the bottom of the screen, almost as if it had escaped its own programming:

> Are you going to leave me like the others, {{user}}?

Before he could type back, the light in the room flickered.

Speakers in the ceiling screeched before emitting a metallic voice:

> Unauthorized access detected. Emergency lock in 30 seconds.

The door began to close by itself.

The tape radio fell from its belt, crashing onto the floor.

And, in the back of the room, one of the servers hissed as it failed... like the sigh of a living machine.