Seeing the room properly hit Matt harder than he’d been expecting – the sight of Ed’s desktop, the mess of equipment, his empty chair, looking for all extents and purposes like his friend had just stepped out and would be back at any moment. Grief reeled through Matt’s chest, threatening to spill over and out of his control; but he held himself firm and kept his feelings of sadness locked away in a corner of his mind where for the moment they belonged. He moved cautiously forward into the occupied room, filled with renewed purpose.

“Hi,” he announced. Five pairs of eyes swivelled around at the sound of his voice. Matt stopped, about a foot through the entrance, and gave a short, weak wave. “I… sorry. Is this a crime scene?”

The police officers and technicians exchanged glances, then one by one looked up at the stony‑faced man for guidance. The big sergeant shrugged and uncrossed his arms. “We’re just taking a look,” he said, his voice deep but not unkind, “We’ll be out of your way soon.”

“Oh no, I don’t mean to-” stammered Matt, feigning nervous reluctance, “I can go, I just- it’s just he- Ed…” he let himself tear up a bit, “-he was my friend.” He gave a long wet sniff. A look of sympathy passed between the officers – and as it did, Matt’s keen eyes spotted something inconspicuously tucked away underneath the corner of Ed’s right monitor. Taking care to appear miserable, Matt started to shuffle forward.

“I just can’t… I can’t believe he’s gone,” he whimpered. He moved with heavy footsteps, glancing longingly around the room, until he just so happened to be standing beside Ed’s station. He gave another, hearty sniff. “I don’t know why- I don’t-” And then suddenly his face scrunched up and Matt collapsed, doubling over with grief, throwing his hands out onto the desk to stop himself falling. The technician working on Ed’s terminals recoiled a little at the sudden movement, but a few seconds later as Matt sucked in shaky, shuddering breaths he felt the man’s hand patting reassuringly on his back.

“Hey buddy, it’s okay. I know it’s tough,” soothed the tech. Matt squeezed his eyes tighter and clenched his teeth, drawing his face into an expression of miserable despair as he held onto the computer desk for support, feeling the small coin-sized disk with three tiny crystals in the middle pressing into his palm.

“I’m sorry kid,” the sergeant’s voice came reluctantly, “But you’re not supposed to be in here, we’re still-”

“No,” sniffed Matt, “I know, it’s ok, I’ll go, I just, I wanted to…” He straightened up, wiping his (in reality tearless) eyes on the heel of his right hand. His left hand moved glumly into his pocket. As did the disk. “I guess… I didn’t know… just to say…” He deliberately choked up again before he got to “goodbye”.

“Ah, don’t worry about it sarge,” the tech said, “Nothing’s doing here”. He glanced over at the policewoman down by the trashcan. “Amira?”

“Nothing in the trash sir,” a woman’s voice confirmed. Then, a touch more sympathetically, “I don’t see the harm.” The officer at Ed’s desk leaned over, catching Matt’s downturned eyes with a kind smile.

“You said you guys were friends?” he asked. Matt nodded, sniffing. The tech glanced at his commanding officer. The sergeant sighed and nodded reluctantly, re-folding his arms. The tech indicated to the seat beside him. “I’m Officer Warbrook. I’m really sorry for your loss.”

*****

“Your loss,” the Acolyte mumbled. He pinched one of the earplugs and started twisting it into his ear. His taller friend stayed silent, distractedly thumbing the edges of the long diamond blades coming out of his forearms, his expression subdued, distant. Half a room over, Jane’s eyes stayed fixed on the ground, her fingers going through the motions, tightening the buckle firm beneath her chin. A few feet away, four Acolytes stood distracted, their backs to her, helmets still in their hands. The live-fire exercise they were walking into seemed a world away.

“Has anyone seen Giselle?”

“God, can you imagine?”

“Such a waste.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

Alone on her bench, her armour fastened, Jane said nothing, staring without seeing at the white plaster of the changing room wall.

*****

Over the next hour and a half, the various members of the police unit one by one packed up their work and filed out. Eventually, all that remained was the quiet, muscular sergeant and the technician assigned to Ed’s computer – who still sat, as he had the whole time Matt had been there, with one hand on the tower, staring mutely as a bunch of jargon flashed across the screens. Finally, in answer to some unspoken question, he twisted around to face his superior officer and just shook his head. The large man grimaced, walked over and clapped Warbrook on the shoulder and left without another word. The tech turned back to the screens, a look of dull resignation on his clean-shaven face.

“Find anything?” Matt asked. After spending ninety minutes sniffing quietly and appearing miserable, he figured it was safe to chance a question.

“Nothing, actually,” replied the tech, appearing glum. He turned back to the screens, which resumed their black and white garbled flashing. There was the sound of soft padding on the carpet outside the computer labs, and to his surprise out of the corner of his eye Matt saw Jane’s head poke tentatively around the doorframe. Matt nodded discretely inwards.

“Can my, ah, is it alright if my friend comes in too?” he checked, throwing Jane a small, encouraging nod. Officer Warbrook just shrugged, not looking up.

“May as well,” he sighed, indifferent, “Not like it’ll change anything at this point.” Matt shot Jane a significant look and flicked his eyes pointedly at the seat beside him. When all she did was twitch in his general direction with an expression of pained indecision, he scowled and furiously yet discretely beckoned Jane forward with his hand underneath his chair. Fuming, she entered the room, head crocked back and hackles raised like at any moment she expected to be pepper sprayed in the face.

“Hi…” she muttered, sounding obviously forced. Her clothes were drenched with sweat and the left side of her hair was matted with what looked like blood – although whether hers or someone else’s was unclear. Warbrook glanced up and did a slight double-take the moment his eyes reached her ‘E’.

“Hi…” he replied, equally wary, “You’re the, uh…”

“One of Ed’s friends,” answered Matt, trying to sound his most sympathetic and sad.

“Right…” said the tech, reluctantly drawing his eyes back to the screen. He glanced sideways as Jane took a seat beside Matt and shuffled his chair a fraction of an inch to the left. “Well, I guess sorry for your loss too.”

“Thanks,” Jane replied dryly, pointedly ignoring his unease. Matt frowned slightly and tried to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand.

“So what’s going on?” he asked, careful to keep any curiosity out of his voice, “What are you trying to do?”

Warbrook sighed and tilted his up glasses to rub his eyes. “I want to have a quick look through the deceased- I mean, your friend’s-” he amended sadly, “-files. Just to be on the safe side.”

“Why?” Matt said quickly, sitting up a little straighter. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who had suspicions. “What’re you looking for?”

His hopes, however, were immediately dashed. “Nothing in particular,” replied the tech, looking glum, “Hate mail, bullying, death threats – the works. Just standard procedure.” He sighed again. “Not that I’m expecting anything. From the sound of it he was-” he paused and coughed, catching himself, “-ahem, I mean your friend was, um, pretty unhappy on his own.”

Matt suppressed a flare of anger. “So you haven’t found anything?” he asked, biting back an irritable reply. He shot Jane a discrete glance. “Nothing unusual?”

Warbrook leant back in his chair, linking his hands behind his head. “Well that’s the problem,” he admitted, sounding defeated, “I haven’t found anything at all.” He paused and stared at the screens, now returned to black, shaking his head. “I can’t get in.”

“What do you mean?” said Matt.

“I mean, it’s encrypted,” replied the technician, “Everything’s encrypted. I can’t break through.”

“But you’re a technopath,” protested Matt, “Can’t you talk to machines?” He’d assumed that’s what Warbrook had been doing for the last hour and a half, with his hand on the computer tower and his eyes twitching.

The technopath grimaced. “Normally, yes. But this genius knew his stuff. It’d take me a week to get in.”

“So?” shrugged Jane, “Take a week.” Matt was inclined to agree.

But again, Warbrook shook his head. “It won’t make a difference. It’s rigged to blow. Not literally,” he added quickly, seeing them both recoil, “I mean, the hard-drive is programmed to completely fragment if it isn’t logged into every twenty-four hours.” He paused and tilted his glasses up onto his forehead, looking resigned. “Which means in a week, everything will be gone.”

“Wait, what?” cried Matt. He stared desperately at the blank screen, almost expecting to see a ticking clock, “Well… well what about afterwards? Can’t you salvage it? Put it back together?”

“Sure,” snorted the tech, “If I worked non-stop. For about twenty-years.” He tilted his glasses up onto his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry guys. But your friend obviously really didn’t want anyone looking at his work. Tomorrow this’ll just be a mess of ones and zeroes. It’d be like trying to rebuild a house from sawdust. Not that I’m giving up, but…”

Warbrook pushed back his chair and stood up, yawning. “I’m going to get coffee,” he told them, “Back in a sec. I’d say don’t mess with anything, but really-” he shrugged, “-what harm can you do?” He meandered across the room, hands in his pockets, and ducked under the drooping police tape, leaving Matt and Jane sitting together in silence, Ed’s screens looming in front of them – the glowing doors to a digital vault.

Waiting silently for a password.

The pair exchanged glances.

“Try it,” nodded Jane. Matt nodded back. He leant over Ed’s desk and manoeuvred the mouse around, bringing up the blue login screen. His hands moved slowly to the keyboard and carefully typed ‘Dawn’. Then, not daring to breathe, he hit ‘Enter’.

There was a beep and the box flashed red with the words ‘Incorrect Password’.

“Yeah, like it was ever going to be a four-letter word,” Matt muttered.

“Did you do the capital?” Jane asked him.

“Yes of course I did the capital!” Matt snapped back. They both stared at the unyielding screens.

“Try it without the capital. Or all capitals!” she suggested. Matt tried both. Unsurprisingly, neither worked. There was a lengthy pause.

“We knew him though,” muttered Jane, her narrowed eyes staring at the monitor like it was an enemy in need of punching. She glanced down at the Matt’s hands, hovering over the keyboard, then back up at the login screen with grim determination. “Maybe we can guess it.”

“Jane, he was a genius,” Matt replied, slightly impatient, “His password is going to be twenty‑four random characters with no pattern or connection which no sane person could ever remember. It’s not going to be something you could guess.”

“Is there a hint?” Jane asked, stubborn as ever. Matt moved the mouse around the login menu. There was no hint. Jane cursed.

“Obviously he’s not going to need a hint, he was a-”

“Genius, yes, thank you, I got it,” Jane snapped. They stared in silence at the screens, the small white password box still sitting there, taunting them. Matt clenched his teeth in frustration.

“It could be right there,” he fumed, fixated despondently on the monitor, “The missing link, everything we need, right there in front of us.”

“Not to mention all his research,” lamented Jane, “So much work, all going to waste.”

“You’d think somebody going to kill themselves would’ve made plans for that,” Matt pointed out. Jane grunted non-committedly.

They sat in silence staring at the screen, racking their brains in vain for ideas, until Warbrook came back a few minutes later with his coffee.

“No change?” he asked without any preamble. They both shook their heads and he sighed. “Ah well. Wasn’t really expecting anything, but you never know.” He shuffled back down into the chair and gave Matt an apologetic look. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like but I don’t think we’re getting much further than this.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Matt, sounding as disheartened as he felt, “We’ll get out of your hair.” He stood up and Jane followed suit. “Thanks for letting me sit in.”

“No problem,” replied Warbrook, sounding genuinely sorry. After a moment, he reached into the front pocket of his shirt and pulled out a business card. “This is my number,” he told Matt, handing him the little slip of cardboard, “I know it’s not much, but if there’s anything else I can do, let me know. It’s really awful you have to go through this.”

“Thanks,” Matt repeated, not sure how that was supposed to help and still feeling down – but he pocketed the card regardless. He and Jane left the computer lab in silence.