Chapter 60:  02:30– REFLECTIONS WHITE AND BLACK AND BLUE [9:30pm]

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< REFLECTION:WHITE >

Time log, Seungho Age 23
3 years prior

He stood by Seunghoon’s bed, methodically clenching and unclenching his hands in time to the incessant beeping of the monitor that had been hastily erected at the foot of his little brother’s bed.  

The sound was supposed to reassure him, every beep a little voice saying “your little brother is still alive” over and over again. But in his mind all Seungho could hear was it whispering “fault, fault, all your fault”. His shoulders would jerk a half beat after each sound as if a live wire was prickling his skin, not enough to shock him but just enough to startle and he would think like a curse that none of this would have happened if he hadn’t gone looking. Only by gripping and un-gripping his hands could he maintain a semblance of control. Shaky control, but control all the same. He could not worry his parents. They had enough to worry about as it was.

A solid click from Seunghoon’s bedroom door caught all of their attentions. In stepped a man dressed smartly in black and blue, his face a picture of collected cool, his eyes dark as the fine beard he sported.

“Songsaengnim!” the words tumbled out of his mother’s mouth. She moved to stand up, her hands immediately going to her knee-length skirt and smoothening down the wrinkles where her hands had been twisting just minutes ago. Desperation was clear on his mother’s face but she still moved and spoke with the age-old courtesies ingrained deep into her veins.

“Please sit,” his teacher said courteously and his mother half sank back into her chair, her hand returning to its guard position about Seunghoon’s limp one. His father placed one hand to her shoulder reassuringly.

“My son,” she whispered harshly, looking down at Seunghoon’s prone form. He looked pale and washed out under the bright lights and white sheets that they had brought in to ensure the room remain sterile. It was not like they had hospitals in the Peaks so temporary measures had had to be fashioned instead. “Please, what is wrong with him?”

His teacher swept the long tails of his jacket behind him and adopted a grave expression. “What your son has, ma’am, is I am afraid something no one has ever seen before.”

He saw his mother’s mouth quiver. “W-what does that mean for Seunghoon.”

His teacher gave a heavy sigh, the kind that old cars gave when they wheezed their final breath. “It means that at the moment we have no cure for your son.”

A gasp issued from his mother’s mouth. His father’s grip on her shoulder tightened.

“But you’ll find one, won’t you?” his father spoke, voice deep and throaty with barely contained fear.

“We are trying. At moment we’ve assigned four research facilities to focus on finding a way to reverse the process. Security is tracking down the origin of this…virus. And we of the administrative board are doing our best to keep this incident under wraps.”

“Under wraps?” his father frowned.

His teacher frowned, the first sign of emotion out of his careful calm that Seungho always knew him to wear. Almost reluctantly, he said, “your son is not the only case.”

“N-not the only case?” Seungho echoed, his silence finally broken. His teacher swung his lamp like gaze around to fix on him. 

“Your brother is but one of hundred or so that have been infected so far. And the number is growing by the hour.”

Seungho stared. His insides felt hollow; his mouth sticky. He wanted all of this to be a really bad nightmare.

“What do we know about it?” his father stepped forwards to ask. Always the pragmatic one.

“The virus – as we call it because that is how it is acting – seems to spread from monitor to monitor with no sign as to who next might be targeted. Those who interact with infected monitors contract the virus and enter a coma like state, as evident by your son.”

“But is it really a coma?” his mother whispered, her fingers brushing over Seunghoon’s hand again. “I mean he’s not even breathing.”

His teacher gave a grave shake of his head. “No it isn’t. But that is the closest thing we can medically match it to. Your son appears to not be breathing but I assure you he is alive. Perhaps crysostatis would be a better example. Completely lifeless but most definitely still alive.”

Seungho saw as hope reemerged in his mother’s eyes. “So there is still a chance he will wake up.”

“Of course,” his teacher replied smoothly. Seungho chose not to comment of the dark flicker in his eyes as he spoke. It vanished as quickly as it appeared. “We have the best in the fields working on it. For now I suggest you all get some rest. We will update you if we learn anything new about the Christmas virus.”

“Christmas virus?” Seungho echoed.

“Correct,” his teacher said, turning his gaze once again to Seungho. “We’re tentatively calling it that because of the message left behind on the screens of infected monitors.”

Christmas comes every year, it had said. Only this gift had not been a desirable one.

“Who would have done this?” his mother despaired, tears coming to her eyes again.

For a brief moment a flash of brown hair and determined eyes came to mind. Seungho paused. Was it possible for that kid to do it? And if it was, why? Revenge? Surely he wasn’t that vindictive of a child…

“We have no idea as of the moment,” his teacher said, and it was then that Seungho realized how truly tired his teacher sounded. He was only in his late forties but the lines on his face and the exhaustion made him look decades older. As a member of the administrative board he was tasked with more responsibilities than names in his title and Seungho knew that in such a large scale incident as this, his teacher would be all over it.

“I promise though if we find anything you will be the first to know,” he continued to say. “Meanwhile please do not worry about Seunghoon. Leave it up to the government. But if there are any changes, update me.”

“Thank you songsaengnim,” his father said hollowly, stepping forwards to shake his hand.

He took the hand. “It’s no problem. It is my duty after all, as a member of the government administration team. For now though I am afraid I am extremely busy. I’ll be taking my leave.”

“Of course,” his father said with a bow that his teacher returned.

Then his teacher turned to look at him. “A word Seungho. Outside.”

Seungho gave a terse nod. “Of course songsaengnim.”

“Very well then,” his teacher said to his parents with a curt nod and moved towards the door.

They closed Seunghoon’s bedroom door to the sounds of his mother quietly sobbing, whether with relief or despair Seungho could not tell. His teacher led him down the hallway to his own study that was still a mess: the monitor disconnected to prevent further infections, his chair knocked over, sheets draped over his objects where the technicians had come in to photograph all evidence and take away the necessary items.  Since finding Seunghoon that morning he had not had a moment to himself, let alone the time to clean up.

His teacher closed the door behind them. Evidently the mess didn’t bother him too much. “Tell me Seungho,” he said hoarsely. “What do you know about this incident?”

Seungho swallowed guilty. Was he referring to Seungho’s more… illicit adventures? Or was it something far more simple? “What do you mean songsaengnim?” he asked in hopes of further clarification.

His teacher’s eyes narrowed, displeasure evident. “Your brother was found collapsed in your room. By you. Why?”

“He likes sneaking in to see what I’ve been up to. I was out – for work – when he did so.”

“That much has been noted by the System,” his teacher said with a nod. “So it was mere coincidence that it was he who became infected and not you?”

Seungho nodded, but slowly. Was it mere coincidence?

His teacher spoke before he could. “I’m sorry Seungho for treating you like this, but this is an incident we have never encountered before. A virus that seems to infect computers at random. And those who interact with it are then placed into a coma for no such obvious reason. We have no idea whose done it or how to reverse it. The government is, for lack of better words, in a complete uproar over it right now.”

Seungho straightened himself up. “What do you want me to do?”

“Good,” his teacher nodded, “I need you to monitor your little brother. Make reports, send them to me daily. Any changes, small or not, alert me immediately. And take care of your parents. I’m sure they are distraught over this.”

“And about finding a cure? The culprit?”

“You leave that to the professionals.”

“But-“

A hand swept in front of him, cutting him off. “I understand your desperation Seungho, but understand that you are not trained in those areas. You would be nothing but a hindrance.”

Seungho had to hold his tongue. He couldn’t tell his teacher that he had secretly learnt what he could and whilst he may not have been an expert in the areas, he knew he could hold his own.

“Understood…” he said reluctantly.

His teacher noted that. “Listen Seungho, I know you want to do something but there are times when we must restrain ourselves. Our society functions by each doing their own part and nothing more. If we do then we lose balance and order; some people do too much and other too little. It results in fights and arguments and those are the catalysts for things to fall apart.

“It may be that the purpose of this culprit is to instill disorder within us. Or maybe that is a far cry from the truth. Either way there is disorder and it is my job to regain that order. And to help – to truly help – I need you to do your part, and no more. Okay Seungho?”

Seungho gave a hesitant nod. “Okay songsaengnim.”

“Good,” his teacher said as he opened the door to leave. “I’ll be expecting those reports.”

“Of course,” Seungho replied hollowly.

As his teacher left, he slowly began to put the room back together: uprighting the chair, tidying away the loose leafs of paper, trying, and really trying not think about it but he couldn’t help it.

You could do more, his inner self was whispering tauntingly. You could do so much more.

“Shush,” he scolded himself. He wasn’t going to do anything. The last time he had tried all he had been able to do was watch a child run for his life. It was as his teacher said: he was not trained and he should not attempt anything.

His body craved action but his orders were clear.  Do you part and no more.

And that was exactly what Seungho was going to do.

< / REFLECTION:WHITE >

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< REFLECTION:BLACK >

Time log, Mir Age 20
3 year prior

How? How? How had it all gone wrong?

The program was not meant to do this? Freeze and hold people captive. It wasn’t meant to reach upwards the Mid-levels or the Peaks. It was meant to slip into the Factories and free the people trapped there but for some reason that Cheolyong couldn’t understand, it wasn’t doing that!

He tapped wildly at the keys, feeling his fingers protest from the abuse they had been sustaining for the past few hours or so since Cheolyong had rolled awake from his nap and found to his horror the prone bodies and fear frozen eyes.  

It was clear there had been some sort of hack, that much he had been able to discern by breaking down the new program that was circulating the System. Who had done it remained a mystery and Cheolyong didn’t exactly have the time to go backtracking to find him. He had to find a way to stop the program before it infected more people, and then he had to find a way to reverse the process.

But how?

He tried shutting down the program, tried rewriting it, tried creating a new program to counteract it, but nothing. All he got were errors and failures and it was frustrating him to no end. 

“Damn!” he snapped and slammed his hands down on the keys. Nothing was working. The virus was circulating and more people were being infected by the minute and he really had no idea how this had gotten all out of hand. “Dammit…” He wanted to cry, the hot tears burned at the back of his eyes. He let his hands slide down from the keyboard to fist in his lap.

It was a nightmare, all of this. He wanted to curl up and pretend none of this was happening but he couldn’t. This was his fault, his responsibility. He had created the core program and then someone had manipulated it for their own purpose, whatever it was. Cheolyong had tried to outsmart the government and in turn someone else had outsmarted him.

“Damn this…” he whispered to the black screen with endless code that he could not control. All he had wanted to do was help people, to help his sisters. All he could do not was watch as the mutated program activated and consumed. “Damn this all.”

Never more than this moment right now did he wish he could turn back time, but he had wished it before and it hadn’t happened then so it wouldn’t happen now. All he could do now, he thought as he wiped away the wetness on his lashes and placed his fingers back to the keys, was try and try and try. And even if he failed, he’d keep on trying.

< / REFLECTION:BLACK >

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< REFLECTION:BLUE >

Time log, Thunder Age 21
3 years prior

It was just another unassuming house of the Mid-levels, shaky looking with its walls of corrugated iron. Despite that Sanghyun was almost 90% sure that this was it. A tiny metal plate next to the door read 02056ZE2.

He lifted his knuckles to the rusty door and rapped them loudly against the chipped door. “Hello?” he called out. He waited for one whole minute before knocking again. Like before, there was no reply.

The two options were that a) he was not in. More likely was b) he was keeping quiet.

Sanghyun raised his knuckles again to the door. “I’m not with the government,” he said in a low tone that he was 60% certain the person inside would here. “I want to talk.” A pause to let that sink in. “About the virus.”

He heard a shift from inside, a tiny slip, caught and magnified by the mic attached to his ear that enhanced sound in certain locations.

He continued in the same tone, confident now that there was someone inside. “You’re the one who is spreading the virus, aren’t you?”

A half beat of a silence. Then there was another creak from inside, the step of a foot across the tiny space the house provided. The door opened a slight crack, admitting only a glimpse of an eye, sharp and narrowed.

“Who are you?” the man asked, his voice smooth but spiked with intent.

“My name is Park Sanghyun,” Sanghyun replied easily.

“And what do you want?”

“To talk.”

“How do I know you’re not with the government?”

Sanghyun gave a small smile. “Scan me.”

There was a flash of a frown, a pause as Sanghyun assumed he was trying to do so. Suddenly the door was flung open and a hand pulled him in. The door shut harshly behind him and in the shadowed darkness of the room all he could make out was broad shoulders and a silken black suit.

“Who are you?” the man demanded. His voice was sharp but his face was calm and collected, his face furrowed only slightly

Sanghyun gave a polite nod. “Park Sanghyun,” he said with a curved smile.

“Enough,” the man’s eyes flashed angrily. He evidently did not liked to be toyed around. “You don’t have an ID code. You can’t be scanned. Either you are an incredibly good hacker or someone higher up has messed up.”

“How about neither,” Sanghyun replied quietly. He enjoyed seeing the flash of surprise in the man’s eyes. His face was as unexpressive as they got, set into its strict mould of thin lips and narrowed eyes, handsome Sanghyun might say. He was clearly a man from the Peaks. No one around here walked about with that sort of expression or attired. But his eyes, well as they said they were windows to the soul. “I am from outside.”

From the widening of his eyes it was clear he understood.

“But who is left-“ He paused. He knew. Then, “What do you want with me?”

“You’re the one spreading the mutated virus. Originally the virus should have only affected those in the Graveyard, and a few minimal in the Ghettos. So why are there incidents in the Peaks and Mid-Levels?” Sanghyun pointed a finger at his crisp jacket. “I tracked it down to you. You’re spreading the virus about all four levels and I’m interested to know why.”

“And why should I tell you?" he threw back. 

This made Sanghyun smile. “Because I was the one who mutated the virus.”

A suspicious stare. “And why would you do that?”

“Because I couldn’t let the original virus perpetuate. But with the limited time frame I could only twist the virus’ purpose. I intended to change the virus first, then to erase it completely afterwards. But you began to spread the virus before I could do so.”

The man smirked. “I saw an opportunity,” he said. “And I always take opportunities that are handed to me on silver platters.”

“But what do you intend to use it for?”

“There is something I need access to and-"

“The Coliseum,” Sanghyun interrupted.

The man’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that?” he asked tersely. 

Sanghyun smiled wide. “There’s a lot we learn outside of these four levels. You’d be surprised what else I know.”

“Then?” the man said suspiciously. “What do you intend to do with that knowledge?”

“You’re after the Coliseum. So am I. What else could I want but mutual cooperation,” Sanghyun said easily. He held out one hand and raised an eyebrow, “What do you say? Shall we talk, Jung Jihoon-ssi?”

< / REFLECTION:BLUE>

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A/N: it’s short but we’re arriving at the of this level soon. I’ll try to update more often. Please kick me if I don’t.