《The dark reader》


 Foreword-The secret of the ocean-

    Around me lie countless pieces of hazmat suits in a disturbing and threatening repose, an infinite multitude of protective gear of various sizes, shapes, and hues intertwining in an unsettling visual symphony. The models seem to have merged in this completely disordered sartorial chaos, creating a strange and surreal tableau. A small abandoned red child''s suit rests near an electric blue one, like a poignant trace of lost innocence, while a torn green suit lies next to a shiny metallic one, silent witnesses to interrupted existences. Countless other pieces of suits accumulate in successive layers, their colors and dimensions gradually dissipating into the surrounding darkness, like ghosts of past lives. My vision is almost nonexistent in this oppressive gloom, only pierced by thin rays of light breaking through what appear to be walls, creating dancing shadows on this sea of suits.


    Around me, everything is a vast perpetual and disorienting movement. The walls, floor, and ceiling sway relentlessly in an endless, hypnotic motion that triggers in me a growing and uncontrollable nausea.


    And then the screams, shrill and heart-rending, pierce the silence like sharp blades.


    The howls rise from all these suits, as if each piece of synthetic fabric harbored a tormented soul. They moan and scream with such force that one would think their lungs about to burst, their voices echoing in the confined space, multiplying and amplifying even further to create this abject melody that chills me to the bone.


    And then the blood, flowing inexorably, transforming this landscape of suits into a scene of unspeakable horror.


    The original hues of the suits fade gradually, as if devoured by a merciless scarlet tide that transforms them into a uniform ensemble of dark and threatening red, erasing all trace of their past individuality.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The swell intensifies further, evidence of an external storm that must be particularly violent, as if the elements themselves were participating in this waking nightmare. Regrets overwhelm me: if only I had known, if only I had kept quiet. If only I could have foreseen what would follow, perhaps I could have prevented this tragedy...


    As my mind filled with regrets and pain prepares to sink, someone enters the room, stumbling not from the ocean''s movement, but from the alcohol that permeates every fiber of his body and whose fumes violently assault my nostrils, completely awakening me from my stupor. His acrid and penetrating smell, as he inexorably reduces the distance between us, provokes in me a gag reflex that I struggle to control, my stomach revolting against this nauseating intrusion. His gaze lingers on my body with an unwholesome insistence, examining my flesh bruised by multiple acts of violence. His fingers, which he cannot help but run through my hair with revolting familiarity, disgust me to my very core, but I am too weakened to show any resistance or opposition. Even keeping my eyes open represents a seemingly insurmountable challenge, each blink becoming a fierce struggle against exhaustion.


    "Did you find her?" echoes a distant voice in the darkness, tinged with poorly concealed impatience.


    "Yes, we were lucky they didn''t touch her hair. Long and red, impossible to mistake. She matches the description perfectly."


    "Then hurry up! Time is running out, we can''t stay here forever! There''s still everything else to evacuate, we don''t have all day!"


    "I''m coming, I''m coming," grumbles the man facing me, lifting me roughly like a mere sack of potatoes, his fingers painfully digging into my flesh. As he carries me away, I see other figures emerging from the shadows like macabre specters. All advance with a limp, methodically busy pushing the suits toward the water, one by one, in a sinister and well-practiced ritual. The screams of terror amplify as the suits sink into the icy waters, like a funeral chorus accompanying this macabre procession. A desperate hand rises in a final farewell gesture, a last appeal for mercy, before being brutally crushed under the weight of heavy boots that know no compassion.


    I lose consciousness, letting darkness engulf me as the waters swallow the last traces of this massacre.

 Monday morning ...

    Monday morning... After the argument I had with my boss when leaving on Friday, I really don''t want to go to work. A pointless argument about some trivial matter - we simply didn''t share the same opinion. And for some reason, I had persisted, probably because I knew I was right. But my boss wouldn''t listen to my perspective, too determined to push her own view. Things escalated quickly, with arguments flying from all directions without being valid for either of us. Our voices got so loud that all our colleagues turned around, and then nothing. Suddenly, like the end of a musical score, silence. We had run out of things to say, out of arguments to convince the other person, to make them finally understand that our point of view was the most legitimate. A stupid and fruitless argument, the kind that happens in every journalism office. And yet, I know I''m right. But my boss will never budge. It''s so difficult to recognize one''s mistakes, and even harder to accept them.


    Monday morning...


    Seven o''clock starts ringing on my alarm. Time to get out of bed. Unfortunately. Don''t you ever have days like this? Days when you really don''t want to go to work? Not because you don''t like your job, but just because you don''t feel like it? You simply don''t have the spirit? Today is one of those days for me. If I could, I wouldn''t come back for a good week. Unfortunately, my current bank balance would only let me survive until Thursday morning, if that. The end of the month is tough for everyone, well, almost everyone. But I won''t start dwelling on that subject - I''ve already tried writing long articles about it, let''s not go there again. With a deep sigh, I throw my feet out of bed. It''s really time to get up if I don''t want to be late! I quickly switch my suit from night mode to day mode, while I hear my mother''s voice from downstairs yelling at me to come down because breakfast is ready. Once ready, I rush down the stairs to quickly eat something and flee through the front door. My mother says nothing in front of her barely defrosted plate, just like my father. It''s their habit - talking isn''t part of their language, much less starting a conversation. You don''t choose your family, what can you do? It''s like a lottery where you never really know the rules, and you end up with parents who, like mine, prefer silence to words, routine to surprises, and radio to conversations. But that''s how it is, you have to work with what destiny has given you. So like every morning, the radio occupies the table. Loud, because my father is half-deaf, it fills my ears and prevents me from thinking about anything other than my plate. A stuffed croissant. I hate that! A croissant should be plain or it''s not a croissant at all! But in recent years, the trend has dictated otherwise and everyone started stuffing croissants with anything and everything, both savory and sweet. Disgusting but trendy, so what can you do, no one can fight against that! Not even those who run things. I''m hungry so I take a reluctant bite. It''s as awful as I thought. Trying not to think too much about the horrible taste invading my mouth with each chew, I force myself to listen to the radio.


    "And by the way, did you hear yesterday''s breaking news?" begins a woman''s voice.


    "Yes!" exclaims another. "A researcher has just proven through simulations and incomprehensible scientific and mathematical calculations that certain parallel worlds might exist."


    "What do you mean?"


    "Basically, to simplify and not lose our entire audience, there really would be other worlds. Worlds where you and I would exist, with the same appearance, probably the same voice, and maybe the same character, and yet these people wouldn''t be us. Incredible, right? They''re not like mirrors but rather like doubles of ourselves. Identical but different because they live their lives completely independently from ours. My name is 1Z26 and I''m a journalist, but the other 1Z26 on her planet could be called... for example, Tomato and be an airplane pilot! Nothing connects us except our dream physique! I''m joking of course, but it''s absolutely fascinating! And besides, we live light-years apart from each other so there''s no chance of running into each other at the local supermarket!"


    "How funny you are, 1Z26! But it sounds crazy! I wonder what this other me is doing right now?..."


    The conversation continues in the same vein while I finish the last bite of my morning torture. I conclude my meal with a long sip of fruit-flavored vitamin drink with sugar, savoring this fizzy moment of respite before facing the day ahead. I finally stand up, ready to leave.


    "Have a good day!" I call out loudly as I slam the door. A barely audible parental response reaches me as I''m already rushing toward the bus stop, my footsteps echoing on the sidewalk. The vehicle has just stopped when I arrive, and I quickly hurry inside. I validate my journey with the transport chip integrated into my suit and skillfully weave between passengers until I spot a free seat at the back. Without hesitation, I make myself comfortable - after all, unlike the others who will get off in a few stops, I have the entire city to cross. An hour''s journey! This forced reflection time allows my thoughts to wander to the conversation heard on the radio. If these parallel worlds really existed, what could my life be like on this mysterious twin planet? Would this alternative reality be so different from ours?


    I can''t help but wonder if there too, people wear these anti-pollution suits that have become our daily reality. Just a few years ago, no one wore them, they simply didn''t exist. But today, they''re an integral part of our society. Despite the existence of a varied color palette ranging from bright green to deep purple, through soft pink and sky blue, a strange social conformity pushes everyone to invariably choose black. The poetic names of colors proposed by the company were tempting, but they failed to convince their audience. Wearing any other color immediately classifies you in the category of, at best, eccentrics, and at worst, people who can''t be taken seriously. Black has become the emblematic color of our world, the very symbol of seriousness and normality. Buildings rise like obsidian monoliths, streets stretch like ebony ribbons, vehicles glide silently like shadows, and the inhabitants, all without exception, are wrapped from head to toe in their black suits. Even the urban vegetation, these few resilient plants that persist in our public spaces, seems to have adopted this chromatic monotony, their leaves displaying dark hues as if trying to blend into this monochrome landscape.


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    I remember my childhood, a not-so-distant time when we could still distinguish the diversity of skin tones, when faces weren''t hidden behind these protective masks. The arrival of anti-pollution suits has transformed our relationship with others - today, we are nothing more than anonymous silhouettes, standardized human forms. Even our eyes are hidden behind this high-tech protective barrier. I was among the first to adopt this technology, or more precisely, my parents got it for me as soon as it came out because I was still in middle school at the time. I have to acknowledge its benefits: my childhood allergies have completely disappeared. Yet, I can''t help feeling a certain melancholy thinking that our victory against pollution has come at the cost of our visible individuality.


    Faced with this loss of facial expression that considerably complicated social interactions, researchers developed an ingenious solution: the integration of two small screens at eye level, called YEM0, a contraction of the words Eyes and Emotions. These screens, equipped with sophisticated sensory sensors, translate our emotions using the universal language of emojis. This innovation quickly solved the problem of non-verbal communication, allowing everyone to instantly understand their interlocutor''s emotional state. The success was immediate and sales have continued to grow since. Improvements followed one after another: the automatic transition from day mode to night mode, and especially, the integration of the self-cleaning system that revolutionized our daily hygiene. No more need for traditional showers - a simple connection to our domestic system suffices. It''s been a decade now since I last felt water running over my skin. These suits have become our second skin, an extension of ourselves. And I think no one in our society would be capable of living without them.


    This technological revolution has a name: ADR1EN, like its creator and designer ADR1EN 2MIANGE. His invention has propelled him to the rank of the wealthiest man in our known world - although perhaps, on that other planet the radio hosts were talking about, there exists someone even richer? After conquering markets and amassing a colossal fortune, ADR1EN is now turning to politics, aiming for the presidency in the next elections. A CEO becoming president... I can''t help but wonder about the implications of such a transition. If elected, he would become one of the five presidents who govern our planet. I wonder if our twin planet is divided in the same way as ours? Indeed, our world is divided by immense oceans into five distinct and autonomous parts. I live on the continent of Rocharria, a rocky land with rugged landscapes that has managed to transform its apparent austerity into strength. Our continent, although poor in natural resources, has forged an enviable reputation thanks to its intellectual wealth and technological innovation with companies like ADR1EN''s that monopolize the global market. Each continent in our world takes its name from the natural element that most deeply characterizes it. The other territories are thus Sablana, a mysterious world perpetually buried under shifting dunes and swept by powerful winds; Neigana, an icy kingdom where eternal snows cover millennial secrets; Terriara, fertile land where vast lush forests and plains of red clay stretch out; and finally Metaria, mountainous territory with precious mineral-rich depths, whose majestic peaks pierce the clouds. I dream of being able to visit them all one day, but obtaining the necessary visas represents a real obstacle course. The administrative procedures are endless, the costs are exorbitant, and my Rocharrian passport prevents me from applying for many places. Moreover, several regions are unfortunately under the control of powerful local mafias who control the territories with an iron fist, making certain areas practically inaccessible to foreign visitors. The rare people who manage to travel between continents are either extremely privileged or have important political connections.


    But I''m getting lost in my reflections, letting my mind wander toward these alternative realities rather than this twin planet. I can''t help but wonder what this other world, this parallel version of our society, really looks like. Is it as polluted as ours, with its masked city dwellers and veiled skies? Is corruption as present there, infiltrating every layer of society like an invisible poison? Do the inhabitants of this parallel world face the same daily challenges, the same struggles for survival in an increasingly hostile environment marked by climate change? Perhaps they''ve found solutions we haven''t even imagined, or perhaps their situation is even more desperate than ours?


    As a journalist, I spend my days investigating various subjects, or at least I try to deepen my investigations as much as possible before my articles are blocked by my boss or our precious sponsors. I write tirelessly, producing a considerable volume of content, but the majority of my writings remain superficial and formatted, far from the in-depth investigative subjects I dream of. The press has unfortunately always functioned this way, prisoner of its own constraints. Political correctness reigns supreme, like an invisible guardian ensuring that every word, every sentence, every paragraph is carefully weighed so as not to offend the sensibilities of those in power or the big bosses who hold the purse strings. This constant self-censorship has become second nature in our profession. It''s not uncommon for us to have to wait several years, waiting for the right moment, before we can finally publish an article on a subject whose existence is an open secret, known to all but never officially acknowledged. This is the sad reality of our profession here, a precarious balance between journalistic truth and economic survival. I know that by expressing these critical opinions about our media system, I risk being perceived as a rebel, a dissident who refuses to conform to established norms. This uncomfortable position often places me on the margins of social consensus, sometimes making me doubt the relevance of my observations. I''m particularly aware that this critical vision of our profession and its compromises is not shared by the majority, and that it particularly provokes incomprehension from my parents, who have always favored a more conventional and accepting approach to the system. Faced with this delicate situation, I''ve learned to internalize my reflections, carefully keeping my opinions to myself, while continuing to silently observe and analyze the mechanisms that govern our world. I wonder if my other self encounters the same problems in her daily life, light-years away from here?


    My bus announces the terminus as my imagination gradually crumbles. I emerge from my reverie, called back to reality: it''s time to face this Monday and, above all, my boss!

 An unexpected mission

    "Hello, hello! Did you have a good weekend, my dear colleague?" greets me a warm and cheerful voice as I''m barely stepping off the bus, my legs still numb from the journey.


    "How are you?" chimes in a second voice with the same comforting warmth in its tone, like a soothing balm on this beginning morning.


    These are EUG7NE and K4R1M, my two wonderful colleagues and longtime friends. Just seeing them, their familiar and kind faces, instantly calms me and infuses me with that little dose of energy I so desperately need to face this new day and the week ahead, with all its challenges and surprises.


    "Hi there! I''m so happy to see you!" I exclaim with genuine joy that surprises even myself, my eyes sparkling behind my YEM0.


    "Such enthusiasm!" laughs EUG7NE, shaking his head slightly, "one would almost forget that you nearly got fired last Friday with all that commotion."


    "Yes, it could have been your last day with us, I would have been so distraught if you''d left. How could I bear my days without my favorite colleague and her witty comments!"


    "You still have K4R1M to keep you company, I might point out, with his legendary optimism."


    "Yes, but a trio only works with three, that''s its very definition."


    "That''s exactly the point," I say, letting out a conspiratorial laugh.


    "And besides," continues EUG7NE with a smirk, "nobody can complain like you do, with that unique blend of intelligence and indignation!"


    "Should I take that as a compliment?" I ask, raising my eyebrows, my YEM0 displaying a skeptical emoji.


    "Yes, yes, of course it''s a compliment, and a sincere one at that. I must say, with you, at least we can count on someone who dares to say out loud what everyone else thinks quietly, without pretense or artifice. Nobody else would dare stand up to the boss like you do. It does her good sometimes when you remind her that she doesn''t know everything and doesn''t hold all the world''s truths."


    "Thank you, dear colleague, but you know what would be even nicer? If you too would speak up a bit when something displeases you, from time to time, so that I''m not the only one carrying this burden of dissent."


    "Don''t get worked up M1A, you know I could never..."


    "Shh!" K4R1M suddenly exclaims, placing a finger to his lips, his YEM0 abruptly switching to alert red, "the boss is right behind us. If we could avoid another confrontation first thing Monday morning at eight o''clock, I would be eternally grateful. Thank you."


    The traffic light right in front of our office building turns red, leaving us no choice but to be joined by our boss, her silhouette cutting through the morning mist.


    "Good morning," she says to the group in a deliberately neutral voice, even her YEM0 seems to have been programmed to show no particular emotion.


    "Good morning," we respond in chorus, our voices blending in a perfect harmony of subordination.


    "I hope you all enjoyed your weekend, and you in particular, M1A," she continues. But her tone leaves no room for ambiguity: this isn''t a question, rather a warning-tinged statement. We had better have had an excellent weekend to be at peak efficiency at work and, in my particular case, to keep my opinions safely locked behind closed lips.


    Without deigning to wait for any response from us, she strides forward and crosses the pedestrian crossing alone with determined steps. We give her a few paces'' lead, as she so loves to have - because you understand, she is the boss after all - before heading towards our journalism office ourselves, walking in her wake like well-ordered satellites.


    At the entrance, following the unchanging morning ritual, I validate my presence using the small chip integrated into my suit, that little technological marvel that governs our lives. Only people with this chip in their clothing have the privilege of accessing our building. For others, it''s an uphill battle: you need to request authorization from the director in person, and if you''re not someone with at least some influence, you might wait an eternity. I''ve seen unfortunate souls wait dozens of hours hoping for an audience!


    The elevator, true to its reputation, doesn''t wait for us, of course. I''m willing to bet my boss deliberately let it go, savoring this petty pleasure of arriving before us. EUG7NE presses the call button with well-practiced resignation.


    "Always so pleasant first thing in the morning, our boss," comments K4R1M, giving me a knowing wink through his YEM0.


    "Yes... I wonder what sauce I''ll be cooked in today," I say with an eloquent grimace as the grimy grey elevator doors open before us with an uninviting creak.


    "What investigation are you working on at the moment?" EUG7NE asks me, clearly trying to lighten the atmosphere.


    "The force and paramount importance of choosing the right shampoo for dry and brittle hair," I respond with a sigh of despair that makes my YEM0 tremble.


    "Ah yes... it''s to promote the new LUN4 brand shampoo, right?"


    "Exactly... I don''t really have a choice, it''s my punishment for once again expressing my opinion a bit too frankly."


    "It''s certainly not the most exciting subject..."


    "And what''s more, it stinks! A real horror! It reeks of petroleum! I don''t even dare imagine getting that through my suit. I''m certain the smell would linger for weeks!" I exclaim vehemently, triggering fits of laughter from my two colleagues as the elevator doors finally open onto our floor.


    I''ve barely had time to settle at my desk and scan my chip to activate my computer when my boss''s voice rings out from her lair.


    "M1A, come to my office immediately!"


    Reluctantly, I get up, already feeling the tension rising in my shoulders. Being summoned to her office so early on a Monday morning can only mean one thing: bad news, once again.


    "Sit down and close the door," she orders me. "You''ve finished the article for the LUN4 brand, I hope?"


    "Yes, of course. I''ll send you the final version as soon as I return to my desk. Did you want to see me about that?"


    "Yes and no. If you''ve finished it, that''s perfect. Let''s move on to the next thing. This should interest you more, you who loves fieldwork so much." Her voice betrays a certain satisfaction, as if she''s already delighting in sending me on a mission outside, away from her eyes and her office. "Out of sight, out of mind," as the saying goes. But she''s not wrong on one point: despite the pollution clouds that darken the sky and the stifling heat outside, I''d much rather be in the field than confined between four walls. Besides, my new suit has over eight hours of outdoor autonomy, effectively protecting me from the dangers of polluted air and perfectly regulating my body temperature.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "What''s the subject? It''s been a while since I''ve done any field investigation."


    "One of our biggest shareholders personally contacted me this morning, for us to conduct a special investigation," she announces with a certain emphasis.


    "A shareholder?" I question, already sensing that this story might smell even worse than the famous LUN4 shampoo.


    "Yes, his cat has mysteriously disappeared for several weeks, and the police categorically refuse to deal with it, considering it''s not an emergency by their criteria."


    "How surprising!" I can''t help but comment ironically.


    "Ah, please, don''t start with your useless remarks!"


    "And you want me to investigate to find this cat and write an article about it?"


    "Exactly!"


    "You''re joking, I hope?" I ask, incredulous.


    "No, absolutely not. Work is work, and this article represents a golden opportunity. If we manage to find his cat, our generous shareholder is ready to reward us very generously. With this sum, we''ll be financially secure for at least a year, and my promotion will be practically assured."


    "And you chose me for this mission of such vital importance? I''m not sure I''m up to such a responsibility," I say, irony dripping from every syllable.


    "M1A, please, be serious! The newspaper is going through a difficult time, you must realize that. The income isn''t what it used to be. And... I know you''ll do good work," she adds in an almost inaudible whisper.


    This last phrase, which almost resembles a compliment, takes me completely by surprise. But I know perfectly well that this is precisely why she keeps me on her team: despite my perpetual complaints, I remain her most efficient and fastest journalist.


    "For a mission of such magnitude, which promises to be so lucrative, may I request the help of at least two colleagues?" I try.


    "Yes, exceptionally, I authorize you to work as a team. The sooner this is settled, the better. Who do you want on your team? I''ll redistribute their current tasks to others."


    "Two people will be enough: I''ll take EUG7NE and K4R1M with me."


    "Alright, but in return, I expect results, and quick results! I want a finished article and a check in due form before the end of the week!"


    "Consider it done, boss!" I exclaim as I dash towards the office of my two beloved colleagues, eager to announce the news that will certainly brighten their day.


    With energetic and hurried steps, I head almost running towards EUG7NE''s office, knowing full well that I would most likely find K4R1M somewhere around. And indeed, true to his daily habits, the latter had comfortably settled himself, his steaming coffee cup in hand, on EUG7NE''s chair while he was busily sorting through a pile of documents on an adjacent table. They were engrossed in a particularly animated debate when I reached them.


    "¡­I really don''t know K4R1M, I have serious doubts that a former CEO could make a good president. I strongly fear that he''ll view our continent solely from the perspective of a large corporation and that he''ll implement drastic budget cuts across all sectors. Public service is already so fragile, I dread that these measures might deliver the final blow."


    "For now, he hasn''t mentioned anything like that in his speeches. Personally, I think it''s an excellent thing to finally have some fresh air against these political dinosaurs completely disconnected from our contemporary reality. They''re so out of touch with our times that I doubt they even know the current fare for a simple bus ride. However, when it comes to determining their champagne tolerance threshold, I''m certain they''re perfectly aware."


    "You''re really pushing it too far! Well, well?" exclaimed EUG7NE, suddenly lifting his head from his mountain of scattered documents to look at me. "What do we owe the honor of your presence here? You''ll get reprimanded by the boss again if she finds you away from your post for too long! But since you''re here, before you run back to your desk, I''d love to hear your opinion on ADR1EN 2MIANGE''s presidential candidacy?"


    "Don''t worry, I have her exceptional authorization, I''ll explain everything after answering your question. Hmm... it''s quite amusing that you ask me this question because I was just meditating on the subject this morning, following the official announcement of his candidacy yesterday, and to be perfectly honest, I remain very divided. Our country desperately needs a fresh breath to revitalize and modernize it, that''s undeniable, but is he really the man for the job? With his industrial background, will he truly be able to revitalize our economy or might he instead precipitate its decline? I''m particularly eager to discover his detailed program before forming a definitive opinion. And you two? I have the impression that you share my reservations, EUG7NE?"


    "Indeed, I''m exactly on the same wavelength as you. It''s undeniable that our country is going through a particularly difficult period, but I seriously question this man''s ability to embody the solution. Some of his speeches seem sometimes excessively aggressive, particularly when addressing our current leaders or economic partners. Like you, I prefer to wait to see his complete program before making a definitive judgment."


    "I perfectly understand your viewpoints, and I want to clarify that I never claimed he held the miracle solution to all our problems. I''m simply saying that his candidacy presents an interesting potential to explore. But well, we''ll see how all this evolves. And anyway, tell us, why did you get this exceptional authorization from the boss to come see us? It''s rather unusual for her to be so accommodating, particularly towards you."


    "You''ll never believe it, but she almost paid me a compliment in her office this morning!"


    "No, that''s impossible!"


    "And yet! I''m still taken aback, she whispered, almost imperceptibly, that I was the ideal person to carry out the mission she had just assigned me. By the way, speaking of that, I have two pieces of news to announce to you, one good and one bad. Which one do you want to hear first?"


    "The bad one, of course!" they responded in unison with conviction.


    "I recognize my best colleagues there, always on the same wavelength as me! I too prefer to start with the worst to end on a positive note. So here it is, prepare yourselves: the bad news is that you''ll have to put up with me even more intensely than usual because you''re officially assigned to work with me on an investigation of vital importance!"


    "And that''s what you consider bad news?!" exclaimed K4R1M, visibly amused.


    "One moment," intervened EUG7NE with insight, "I sense she''s saving something more substantial for the end."


    "Exactly! I have the immense privilege of announcing that we will be collaborating on a matter of major strategic importance! One of our most eminent shareholders has lost his precious feline, and we are tasked with locating it as quickly as possible! In return, he has committed to making a generous donation to the newspaper, and you know how much we appreciate cash inflows around here!"


    My two colleagues stared at me with the same expression of incredulous stupefaction that I had just worn moments earlier facing the boss.

 Good News

    "You''re joking, right?" exclaims K4R1M with a tone mixing surprise and indignation. "This is what you consider good news? I sincerely believe you have a very particular definition of what constitutes good news!"


    "Come on, please, think about it for a moment!" I say, taking his arm which hangs limply. "We have the opportunity to work together on a truly different project, it could be an enriching and even fun experience! And then, there''s another significant aspect: if we carry out this mission successfully, our dear boss will be promoted and move upstairs, to the prestigious administrative offices! If everything goes as planned, in a few days, or at most a few weeks, we''ll all be gathered to celebrate her farewell party! Wouldn''t that be wonderful?"


    "Looking at it that way," interjects EUG7NE thoughtfully, "it''s true that this mission has some rather interesting aspects, and the idea of all working together on the same project is quite appealing," he continues with a YEM0 conspiratorial wink toward K4R1M.


    "Okay, okay, I have to admit you''re scoring points with all these convincing arguments. However, there''s one small detail that concerns me: I''m already fully engaged on several other articles at the moment, particularly I absolutely must finish a detailed article on the new features of the ADR1EN 14 suit by this evening."


    "Don''t worry, I''ve already discussed this with the boss. But, it''s really incredible to think we''re already at the fourteenth model! Time flies at a dizzying speed. I still nostalgically remember my very first suit, I was so young, barely thirteen at the time!"


    "I was even younger, only twelve," interjects EUG7NE with the same nostalgic tone in his voice.


    "And I feel like the veteran of the group now, I was already a full sixteen years old back then."


    "And, don''t worry about your article on the suit, K4R1M, I have good news about that: the boss already confirmed to me that she''s redistributing your work as well as EUG7NE''s to other colleagues. But, out of curiosity, could you tell me what the main innovations of this new model are compared to the previous one?"


    "To be perfectly honest, the improvements are quite subtle, you could even say superficial. The designers mainly focused on perfecting the fabric, making it significantly more pleasant both to touch and to wear daily. Otherwise, not much new. I''m personally a bit disappointed."


    "In that case, do you think it''s not really worth investing in this new model?"


    "It''s up to you, but don''t forget that our current suits are nearing the end of their life - I remind you they have a validity period limited to one year."


    "That''s indeed an important point, but unfortunately, I already had to invest in a new suit at the beginning of the month and my current finances are really low, so I doubt I''ll buy a new suit before mine expires."


    "If you''ll allow me," interjects EUG7NE with a slightly more professional tone, "perhaps we could refocus our discussion on the main subject at hand?"


    "Oh, don''t start being a killjoy, Mr. Perfectionist! You''re really incorrigible, always so serious even when we''re discussing less conventional topics. But well, fortunately you''re here to keep us on track, otherwise we wouldn''t move forward as efficiently," he adds with a fond expression, making little hearts appear in his YEM0.


    "What exactly did the boss tell you about this mission?"


    "She wasn''t very generous with details, but I''ve just received the email from the shareholder following our conversation. I suggest we meet in the conference room to examine its contents together, what do you think?"


    "Perfect for me," agrees K4R1M, grabbing his still-steaming cup of coffee.


    "I''ll follow you," confirms EUG7NE while quickly organizing the scattered documents on his desk into a neat stack.


    I use the chip integrated into my suit to unlock the room door. The mechanism emits a characteristic beep signaling the unlocking of the lock. All three of us enter the room. I head to the control station and, still using my chip, activate the central computer before entering my credentials to access my messages. Meanwhile, my two colleagues settle comfortably in the ergonomic chairs facing the main screen.


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    The interface finally displays the message that my boss had just forwarded to me:


    Madam,


    Following our telephone conversation and your acceptance of the mission I''ve entrusted to you, I''m sending you the information you requested.


    My little feline is called C4LIN, he''s a Maine Coon with a "red silver" coat. He weighs nine kilograms and measures approximately ninety centimeters. I adopted him about two years ago when he was just six months old. So he''s two and a half years old. He loves going outside, he''s a real adventurer unlike his master, and he spends most of his days outdoors, only appearing in the kitchen at mealtime in the evening, around eight o''clock. Since I work every day, I open the door for him when I leave for work and when I return. He also sleeps inside the house and never goes out at night.


    But now, it''s been two weeks, exactly fifteen days since he hasn''t returned home, and I''m very worried. I''m afraid something serious has happened to him, that he''s been kidnapped to be resold given that he''s a purebred cat, or that he''s simply been killed, intentionally or unintentionally, by a third party.


    I sincerely hope that you will be able to help me in this investigation where the police have refused to intervene.


    I would like to suggest that you and your journalists, if you''re willing, meet at my home tomorrow morning around nine o''clock so that we can discuss this worrying matter in more detail. This will also allow me to show you various photographs that will help you identify him more easily during your search. He also wears a collar with a chip connected to my suit that is supposed to geolocate him, but it must be damaged as I cannot track him.


    I remain at your disposal if you have any questions between now and tomorrow morning.


    Wishing you good reception of this message


    Signed, R0G4R TU44EL0


    "Wait a minute... I can''t believe my eyes! Am I really seeing R0G4R TU44EL0''s signature?!" exclaims EUG7NE, visibly stunned.


    "Who exactly is that?" asks K4R1M, clearly intrigued.


    "What do you mean, you don''t know that name?"


    "No, really not, that''s precisely why I''m asking. Who is this person?"


    "He''s one of the most eminent and respected figures in the judiciary of our continent. He distinguished himself by presiding over the trials of the most dangerous criminals and serial killers, not only of our generation but also of our parents''. I was convinced he had retired, but apparently that''s not the case."


    "Indeed, I can confirm after a quick search in our database. He''s still active despite his impressive age - he''ll be eighty-eight next week. And according to several recent articles, he doesn''t seem to have any intention of retiring in the near future."


    "That perfectly illustrates what I was saying earlier about dinosaurs!" says K4R1M with a small smirk.


    "We must acknowledge that he enjoys an excellent reputation in judicial circles," notes EUG7NE in a respectful tone.


    "At the same time, when you''re a major shareholder in numerous press groups, including our newspaper, it''s rather difficult to be the subject of criticism," I remark with a hint of bitterness.


    "Who can really guarantee the objectivity of information published about him?"


    "Listen, we''ll have the opportunity to form our own opinion tomorrow," tempers EUG7NE.


    "But I must admit that his message touched me. You can really feel that he''s deeply attached to his cat." "That''s true, and I sincerely hope we''ll manage to find his pet. After all, this cat has nothing to do with its master''s positions or influence."


    "By the way, when he mentions the possibility of theft for resale, what kind of sum are we talking about?" asks K4R1M. "Does a cat like that really have great market value?"


    "Oh yes, a cat of this breed can easily be negotiated for the equivalent of the price of a car or a small house on the market."


    "Well! I better understand his fears about a possible theft. It''s quite astounding to think his cat is worth more than my current suit!"


    "It''s perfectly logical when you think about it, K4R1M. We''re talking about a purebred cat, while your suit is a used model. You always adopt the same strategy: waiting a few months after the release of a new model to acquire it at a reduced price on online platforms. So it''s already half expired and you end up changing models every six months!"


    "Obviously, the prices of new models are completely insane. And at least I change my outfit often."


    "Doesn''t it bother you to wear a suit already worn by someone else? I don''t think I could do it."


    "No, not in the least!"


    "Forgive me for insisting," interjects EUG7NE, "but could we refocus on our main mission? We can talk about our suits this evening over a drink if you''d like, but now is not the time. The faster we progress, the sooner we''ll be done. M1A, would it be possible for you to quickly send a message asking for photos of the cat? That would allow us to start preparing posters, both digital and paper. And don''t forget to confirm our visit tomorrow morning at nine o''clock."


    "I''ll take care of it immediately, dear voice of wisdom. As soon as I receive the photos, I''ll also search online to see if anyone is trying to resell him. K4R1M, could you handle designing the posters ? And EUG7NE, would you be willing to contact the various pounds and animal shelters in the capital to check if they''ve taken in a cat matching the description?"


    "At your orders, chief!" replies K4R1M enthusiastically as he heads to his workstation.


    "I''ll get right on it," confirms EUG7NE in a determined tone as he stands up to begin his research.