Chapter 2: Chapter 2

It was a good thing I didn’t have claustrophobia as my path was occasionally blocked by pipes which required laying face down in the dust, and only moving while breathing out. They were clearly not designed to be passed underneath, creating a sort of wall limiting the reach of any one closest-access-point. In fact, I kinda liked the warm, dark space. I was alone but still aware of people moving around me, walking on the floor above my head or having conversations muted by the ceiling beneath me- all without them knowing I was there. 

 

I would occasionally check the building engineering diagram which I had printed in preparation for this trip, doing my best to orient myself enough to get to my target closet. Due to forgetting any source of light as previously lamented, I had to use the faint glow-in-the dark dial of my watch or random LEDs on things to see it, but it was doable. When I decided to take a break, I estimated I was about halfway there. I didn’t think anyone would notice or pay any attention to the noises I made shuffling along, but I still made sure to stop when I heard someone pass by. As is to be expected from the lure of alcohol, there were scarce few I had to stop as the staff made their way down to the lake.

 

To clarify, I was sure they weren’t stupid enough to have all the staff leave- there was likely disgruntled security and ostracized workers still around- but all the people in the fancy offices should be gone. There was no need to spare any pity from those excluded, everyone here was a textbook example of some sort of superiority complex. On that note, my just-now-created, personal rankings- based on interactions with the groups as a whole- would go something like this, from almost tolerable to murder-worthy: 

1- The Senile Patients. Most of them defaulted to grandparent-adjacent personalities with a touch of holier-than-thou.

2- The Patients Consigned to Death. They tend to be either depressed or incredibly spiteful, depending on if they’ve realized that their actions do not have consequences because they’ll be gone soon anyway.

3- Housekeeping and Janitorial Staff. I had memorized their schedule early on and was conveniently gone when they came around, so I didn’t interact with them all that much. Brought down because they’d “misplace” some of my stuff on occasion.

4- Newer Doctors and Nurses. No one in the treatment part of the facility applies here to be helpful. If that was the case, they’d be working at one of the public hospitals or clinics- and it’s reflected in their personalities. They are kept distinct due to now having realized what they can get away with yet.

5- Administration Staff. All I have to say is: at least I steal replaceable objects and don’t deny I do so.

6- Long-Time Doctors. They are like their newer counterparts, but know the only thing holding them back from their wildest fantasies is the threat of being sued for malpractice.

7- The Head Doctor. He’s the only person I’d actually seriously consider inflicting physical harm upon. I really don’t like seeing people in pain, and get sick whenever I hurt anyone- so that's a big anti-endorsement coming from me.

 

With my justification for stealing shit settled and myself reoriented, I began to crawl along again. It continued to be slow work, but I was making good time. The rest of the trip was uneventful, and when I checked my watch over what I was confident was the access hatch of the office janitorial closet it read 8:36.

 

I made sure to listen for a few minutes before attempting to get in and heard nothing. Like where I came in, the way hatch was unlocked, and the door to the offices was unlockable from the inside. Continuing to hear nothing, I quietly turned the lock and glacially opened the door.

 

As I expected, it was dark. A little light from outside the building was creeping in through the windows, but all the fluorescent and desk lights were off. Despite seemingly being alone, I kept low and slow, checking the corners of the ceiling for cameras- and as I had expected, none were present. It was actually kinda funny: all the expense and interesting things someone could shove into a pocket were in one of the few rooms without surveillance. 

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Going as clockwise as I could through the cubicles, meeting rooms, and private offices, I picked up a few good things. Some people had really nice pens, the type machined from fancy metals and inlaid with gold or copper- I really liked taking pens. They offered the maximum annoyance for the minuscule chance of their owner thinking someone stole it. A few cubicles had interesting desk toys, but those would take up too much space, so I had to leave them. Of particular note, when I checked one desk’s set of drawers, I was surprised to find a few hundred dollars in cash tucked into seemingly random pages of ledgers, stacks of documents, and even a bill wedged into a gap on the underside of the lowest drawer where the siding met the base. No clue if whoever used this desk was untrusting of banks, or getting paid for ‘favors’, but I didn’t really care.

 

Near the end of my spree I came to a private office labeled with the name of the head doctor. It was the only one with a lock- and said lock was one of those new biometric only models rich people put too much trust in. A lock is only going to keep out people who aren’t set on getting in, so there isn’t really a need to go much more advanced than a normal tumbler with security pins. Almost in a cosmic effort to prove the stupidity of high-tech locks, there was a large enough gap between the lock and the wall for me to fit the edge of my flathead screwdriver. With a bit of feeling around, I was dumbfounded when I realized the face of the lock was head on to the mounting with some plastic clips. 

 

I was able to pop the cover off to reveal some mounting screws. At this point I was doubting the lock designers actual security knowledge as this was a massive oversight. Two screws let me take off the lock body and see the wiring. There were three: a positive, a negative, and a ground. I was sure this was the case as they were too thin to be data wires, and were the standard colors for electrical wires. The lock was just a fancy fingerprint reading switch. 

 

After stripping a small section of the positive and negative wires and touching them together, I could hear the bolt retract- letting me carefully open the door. 

 

Just before I entered, I caught a bit of movement out of the corner of my eye- sending my heart into overdrive. I ducked behind the nearest opaque object and sat listening until my heart rate normalized. Nothing. I worked my way around to a place where I could see the door I was just at from another angle, taking each step painfully slow so as to not make any noise. Still nothing. Deciding I was just being overly tense, I entered the head doctor’s office- for real this time.

 

It was a mess to say the least. A few jackets and shirts- both male and female- were strewn on the lounge chair in the corner. Papers were knocked off the desk and looked like they had been stepped on. The desk was not square to the room and had a few drawers fractionally opened as if it had been bumped. And to top it off, it stunk of chemical air fresheners. 

 

The scene of probable debauchery made navigation difficult with the random papers littering the floor and haphazard placement of clothes making putting everything back in its place a headache. On the bright side, all the pretty, shiny things were making my eyes dart around the room in excitement. From a nearby coat rack I snagged a set of keys with a fancy logo, an exorbitant but reasonably small necklace was acquired from the top of a filing cabinet, some cash was retrieved from between a wastepaper bin and the wall, and a USB stick was relieved from desk-watching duty. My previous theory of workplace-inappropriate-behavior was further built upon by the discovery of some lingerie in a previously locked drawer. That was left where it was.

 

Satisfied with the trip, I closed the door, reassembled the lock and made my way back to the closet. After I had closed the door, I was hit by the creeping feeling of being watched and instinctively froze.

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