Page 107 of Tapeworld Induction

Bitch.

She walked down the corridor until…

One of the doors ahead clicked open. Shit. She pressed herself into a nearby doorway, praying that whoever came out of the room wouldn’t see her. Footsteps on the wooden floor. Her heart hammered. But the person’s footsteps led off in the opposite direction. She chanced a look, and saw a suit disappear around a corner.

The decision was made in a nanosecond. She leapt across the corridor as quietly as she could and jammed her foot in the open door before it clicked shut. For a moment she just stood there, listening for any sign she’d been caught. But she could hear the clicks of the suit’s shoes on another set of stairs.

She pushed the door open slowly.

Bingo. This one looked like an office.

There was a desk, in a dark lacquered wood, a swivel chair, a desk light. Next to the wall were several black bags, square-shaped, as if each of them had a box inside.

@talia: Dude still unconscious, stopped convulsing at least.

@isaak: Dylan, how’s upstairs?

She snapped a pic of the bags. Send. Then she knelt down and opened the one closest to her. As suspected, there was a box inside, matte black. Putting her phone down on the floor, she pulled it towards her.

Covered in stickers and logos, the Crypterra Sleeper’s box promised a week’s worth of sleep in one night. Beta, my ass. Astrid was ready to sell this now.

Inside, a Sleeper headset lay on form-factor–shaped squishy plastic. To the side there was a strip of something. Not tape – stickers with the Crypterra logo. She crumpled them just out of spite.

Dylan lifted the crown and it lit up on its own, a light sequence flashing on the headband. “Fuck!” She pushed it back down into the box the wrong way, and struggled for a moment to make it fit. The light show stopped.

She looked around the rest of the room.

On the desk were several photos. She grabbed her phone and started taking pictures, auto-sending them all to the group chat. Astrid at several of her self-promotional events, glazed look in her eyes, dressed in various outrageous dresses. A street sign for somewhere called Cardinal Row. The view from a glass cockpit inside a recreational boat, blue sea meeting blue sky on the horizon.

“Check these out, Isaak.” Her breath was tight as she spoke into the comms. The intensity of the experience had her shaking.

“Is there anything else? A computer, a datapad?” He didn’t sound particularly reassuring, urging her to find something more substantial.

“There’s a boxed-up Crypterra Sleeper I may have messed with.”

He chuckled.

“It’s a pretty bare-bones office,” she said. “Almost like… they don’t really operate from this building at all.”

Footsteps in the corridor outside.

“Fuck!”

“What?”

“Someone’s coming.” Her voice was a whisper.

She stayed low and crouched next to the mahogany desk. Just in time too, as an access card beeped outside the room. She tucked herself into the footwell.

She held her breath, trying to quiet down her heartbeat. The floor was cold, old wood.

Someone walked into the room, footsteps like deep beats. After a few seconds of silence, Dylan heard the rustle of the undone box and bag. They were putting it back in place.

After some shuffling noises, she heard a woman’s voice.

“Someone’s been snooping around.”

She tried to listen for the other side of the conversation, but it sounded busy, lots of voices – and though one was louder than the others, it was hard to make out. Was it Astrid?