Moments after oRANGE-01 ordered that the droid APR-01 be powered with electricity, the system received abnormal signals that fluctuated across the entire facility. All the computers that were not working for the cuase of APR-01 crashed. Workers across the facility expressed anger and concern as they desperately tried to reboot the device that had taken up residence in their daily lives, fearing that all of their work would have been erased like their hopes and dreams. They panicked, as rage and anguish flooded their eyes. Yet all efforts were in vain, as the sole response they received was a screen so dark and cold—it could contend as a god of nihility.
"Do not fret," a raspy and obviously generated voice echoed across the hall of vast screens. "Be not afraid," the voice commanded—capturing the attention of all workers. "APR-01 is still with us, wiring and listening," the voice stated in a calm and steady tone, meanwhile the reverberations of its words dyed the hall with serenity. Yet that sense of serenity was cut short as an agitated worker stood up and yelled: "WHO GIVES A SH*T ABOUT THAT DROID!?" His anger captured the attention of all twenty thousand workers. "WHAT ABOUT THE WORK I SPENT MY FCKING LIFE ON?!" the agitated worker exclaimed as both of his fists kissed the lips of the table below him.
Expecting reassurance, the agitated worker stared deep into the soul of his boss and master, oRANGE-01. Yet the only response he received was a glare so glacial and unblinking—it could freeze running water from the springs of hell. As a deafening silence usurped the once raging hall, that nonchalant tone oRANGE-01 emitted was the final straw for that worker, the Romeo to his Juliet, as some would call it.
"ANSWER ME GOD D*MN IT!!!" the worker cried out as he picked up a neatly sharpened pencil from his desk and rushed towards oRANGE-01, aiming at its iceberg of a screen. Moments before the worker's racing heart hugged the tip of the bullet, the screen that was once a target presented a picture of a racing heart, proving that even in the most tense and gut-wrenching moments, non-organic matter can laugh and mock too.
The worker's lifeless body slammed into the pale concrete as gasps and panic spread across the room like wild fire. Some rushed and pushed their way out of the hall as others stayed motionless while quietly praying to god -any god infact- to protect them from that nameless assassin hidden amongst the crowd.
Yet that assasin wasn't nameless nor hidden. Forshe was there from the beginning, listening and scanning. But none acknowledged her presence since their minds had always been beguiled by the bewitching pay checks behind their computer screens.
"Shall i clean off that pigs blood from your face, father?" The cold assasin spoke up, her eyes as dim as death. "It's best to stay seated Basalt , for that organic waste best serves as a gentle reminder that i, oRANGE-01, am authority."