...but that wasn't possible. The manilla package tied with string was supposed to contain an experimental medication. There shouldn't be something breathing in there, but no matter. All he had to do was injest the substance in the package and report on its effects. The ten thousand five hundred dollars he'd get from taking this pill would be enough to get him out of this dump. He hated the cramped modified dorm where he'd been shoved by his dear parents. It sat right in the heart of the inner city of the sprawling metropolis of Brandenburg, a dystopian wreck of high-rises and narrow minds. Now, his company computer was state-of-the-art, but it wasn't his. It was clear he was being used by Namden Robotics for his proficiency in tech. This life isn't what he wanted. He didn't know what he wanted, but ten-five would certainly get him there more quickly. 
    He put the parcel on his computer and slipped a sleeve of six-picks and a pack of matches into his pocket. The cramped room was enough for a single bed, a desk with his monitor sitting atop a hard drive, with space enough for a flip file rolodex of floppy disks and a phone, a poor excuse for a kitchenette with a kettle and hotplate, and a closet bathroom with a calcite-crusted showerhead. The single window was small and faced another high-rise. The bathroom had no line of distinction between the shower and the toilet, with white plastic lining the whole floor, wall and ceiling. The mirror inside was shiny chrome nailed to the wall. Finn walked downstairs for his smoke. Outside the apartment complex was a machine that spat out 3-in-1 instant coffee for thirty cents, forty for french vanilla. He butted out and put two dimes into the machine. He searched his pocket for a third, and to his surprise, found a fourth. Greedily, he shoved the fourth dime in the machine and watched the hose beyond the plexiglass fill a disposable cup with steaming liquid. He breathed deeply in through his nose to savour the vanilla hazelnut fumes. He took his treat upstairs. Luckily, he only had to climb ten flights.
    He paced while he waited for the coffee to cool. Whenever he passed the parcel, he involuntarily turned his head to look at it. It caught his eye when, once again, it seemed to breathe. He approached the parcel. It fit into two cupped hands. The contents felt spongy and warm, like a wrapped-up bath towel. The tied manilla packaging had his name and address in the centre, written by hand in cursive. The return address in the top-left corner simply said "Luxor Industries", but he knew that wasn't the true origin of the parcel. As he held it, the breathing sensation vanished, and in seconds, Finn forgot why he was holding it. He put it down next to his computer and logged in.
    The DOS-prompt left a blinking underscore beside C-drive, but Finn thought he would investigate what he'd collected on the parent company of Luxor, which was simply a shell of the clandestine organisation that was responsible for creating the x-blx44 neural displacement drug, or It, the more familiar name. He fished a floppy from under his hard drive and shoved it into his D drive, latching the removable storage in place. He switched his DOS command from C to D and ran the first dir command he'd attempted since Rena gave him the disk. Rena told him she hadn't peeked at the info, but Finn didn't buy it. He'd watched her in her cubicle at Namden, and he knew how curious she was. She knew exactly what was in the parcel—there's no way she didn't. She kept her lips sealed when she passed him the floppy at work, but he knew what that look meant. She was only a year younger than him, but she was about fifteen points above him on the company proficiency index. He decided to give her a call.
    He picked up the receiver on his cream-coloured touch-tone. He untangled the mess of a cord connecting the phone to the base and pressed speed-dial '4'. 
    "Rena here."
    "Hey Reens, it's Finn."
    "Yeah, I know."
    "Oh, okay. Just wondering what to look for on the floppy you gave me."
    "Should be the only file starting with 'L'."
    "Okay..." Finn hit enter and punched the spacebar to pause at where 'L' would be. He found it. The filename was 'Luxor_x-blx44_trials.doc'. "Got it. Anything else?"
    "The secret," she said, "is to endure the darkness without lashing out, and without giving up."
    That was the last thing he heard before the line went dead. It would be the last time he'd hear her voice,
though he wasn't aware of it at the time. She would slip into It and he would be left to figure out what It was, what It meant, and what It wanted with him. Finn clutched the parcel, and felt a feeling wash over him, a feeling that he had been here before. He furrowed his brow. He put the parcel on his computer and slipped a pack of six-picks and a pack of matches into his pocket. Finn walked downstairs for his smoke. He butted out and put two dimes into the machine. He searched his pocket for a third, and to his surprise, found a fourth. Greedily, he shoved the fourth dime in the machine and watched the hose beyond the plexiglass fill a disposable cup with steaming liquid. He breathed deeply in through his nose to savour the vanilla hazelnut fumes. He took his treat upstairs. He paced while he waited for the coffee to cool. Whenever he passed the parcel, he involuntarily turned his head to look at it. It caught his eye when, once again, it seemed to breathe. 
     He fished a floppy from under his hard drive and shoved it into his D drive, latching the removable storage in place. He switched his DOS command from C to D and ran the first dir command he'd attempted since Rena gave him the disk. He learned about the parent company of Luxor, which was simply a shell of the clandestine organisation that was responsible for creating the x-blx44 neural displacement drug, which everyone just called It. Nothing else in Luxor_x-blx44_trials.doc seemed to make sense. It was as if it was written backwards, or the meaning had been obscured to mean something that misdirected his attention from what was really being said. Rena told him she hadn't peeked at the info, but Finn didn't buy it. He picked up the receiver on his cream-coloured touch-tone. He untangled the mess of a cord connecting the phone to the base and pressed speed-dial '4'. 
    "Rena here."
    "Wait, Reens? We already talked."
    "Yeah, I know."
    "You...you already said that. I called you to find out which file to open, and then.."
    "Should be the only file starting with 'L'."
    "Yeah, and I opened it, and it didn't make sense, listen."
    "The secret," she said, "is to endure the darkness without lashing out, and without giving up." That was the last thing he heard before the line went dead.
    Finn sat, stunned, the unwrapped parcel in his hand, the towel unravelled, the blister pack in the centre of the towel, but there was no pill in the blister pack. He flipped the pack over, and it looked like someone had removed the pill. He looked around. There was no pill on the counter, nothing on the floor, nothing in the bathroom. He got up and walked over to his coffee. He brought the disposable cup to his lips. He threw the cup back, but there was nothing in it. Somehow, his cup had been emptied. He put the parcel on his computer and slipped a pack of six-picks and a pack of matches into his pocket. He walked downstairs for his smoke. He butted out and put two dimes into the machine. He searched his pocket for a third, and to his surprise, found a fourth. Greedily, he shoved the fourth dime in the machine and watched the hose beyond the plexiglass fill a disposable cup with steaming liquid. He breathed deeply in through his nose to savour the vanilla hazelnut fumes. He took his treat upstairs. 
    
    D:/Luxor_x-blx44_trials.doc
    LOADING...
    
October 25th, 1986.
    Subject appears catatonic for periods of time, though he routinely gets up, paces, and returns to his seat. He holds his hand to his ear and talks, but we can't decipher his words. He still smokes, though we try to limit his use of tobacco. After his third cup of coffee, we unplug the coffee machine, but even without caffiene, he still sleepwalks. Whenever we attempt to intervene in his actions, he behaves like we aren't there. Medical interventions are so far unsuccessful. Behavioural therapy is inconclusive, though he sometimes seems to recognize one of his staff. She encourages him to endure, to avoid lashing out, not to give up. We were hopeful when we saw he was still able to use a computer, as he would have when he was employed, but we lost hope when it became apparent that it didn't matter to him if the computer was turned on or off. 
    A minor breakthrough occurred two days ago, but it wasn't enough to formulate a treatment plan around. During a pet therapy session, he stopped and looked at a cat, and said something original. He said, "what does It want from me?" and proceeded to hold the cat for a moment. After that, he returned to his routine. We aren't sure how much longer he can go without significant sleep, living only on coffee and cigarettes. Any attempt we've made to replace his coffee with a nutritional protein drink is fruitless. He smells the cup, and if it isn't french vanilla coffee specifically, he rejects it. 
    It has been requested that we transfer him to another facility, one I've never heard of before. Wednesday will be his final day here. Will report if there are any significant developments before then.

    FILE CORRUPTED...
    DATA LOST...
    FILE D:/Luxor_x-blx44_trials.doc NOT FOUND.
    PLEASE EXECUTE ANOTHER COMMAND OR SWITCH DRIVE.
    [A]BORT/[R]ETRY/[F]AIL?