The filing cabinet stood anachronously in the clean room of the Think Station. Most of the room was taken up by the banks of servers that controlled every controllable aspect of the City. It was, to Phil’s mind, a waste of a precious resource to ever print things onto paper and file them away.
The argument was that it was the most secure method for the most sensitive documents. Unhackable and in the most secure room aboard.
The fact that Phil was retrieving something from the cabinet meant something important was happening.
Outside the room were two heavily armed and armoured Security Officers with a very heavy duty case, waiting for the file.
His lunchbreak had been interrupted by a series of verification procedures that ended with him speaking directly to the Captain. Only the Captain could order files to be retrieved from the cabinet and that was exactly what he had told Phil to do.
Phil handed the file over and watched with interest as the series of locking mechanisms closed the case securely.
“Any clue as to what’s up?”
One guard turned his blank full face helmet to face him and raised his gun enough that Phil would notice. “Do you really care?”
Phil gulped back a throat of fear bile and shook his head.
The guards nodded and left.
Phil might have told them he didn’t care.
And he hadn’t.
But after the hinted threat of violence for curiosity, the lack of knowledge was a maddening itch he would likely never be able to scratch.
What had he given then?
Why did they want it?
© Robert Spalding 2011