Breached (prose)

Through his reflection in the glass, Johnathon watched the city dwellers scurry to-and-fro far below him. The high-rise office suite at the pinnacle floor of the Sinclair building provided him the opportunity, while its windows stretching from floor to ceiling and all around, gave him his air of superiority. Contentedly he sat in a luxurious leather chair and sipped espresso.

The intercom on his desk made a short high-pitched tone. “Sir?”

He pursed his lips and swallowed. “Yes, Mr. Martin. What is it?”

“Well, sir. You might want to sit for this one.”

“I am sitting, Mr. Martin. What is it?”

“It isn’t good.”

“I realize that!” Enveloping the intercom and speaking directly into it.“Get to the point, Mr. Martin!” said Mr. Sinclair with a fearsome tone.

“We can’t find the quadrant test, sir. We were analyzing sectors when it all disappeared, ‘poof’, just like that! We checked the drives, nothing, no missing clusters… It’s like it was never uploaded… Gone, all 88 terabytes, every last bit! – Literally.”

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