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After finding the key, Carson left the cafeteria immediately. The excitement of his discovery overrode any desire for eating. On his way back to his cube, he spotted Ruben walking down the hall and he managed to duck around a corner before Ruben noticed him. The sight of Ruben reminded him of the configuration plan he was supposed to write. He only had a few days left.
As soon as he arrived back at his cube, he checked his email, but there was no new note from the mysterious ‘scmsilo' account. The riddle said nothing about what to do with the key, so he replied to the mysterious sender explaining that he possessed the key and needed further instructions.
Carson heard heavy breathing behind him and turned around. A tall figure stood behind him wearing a welding mask.
"Luke! I am your father!" said the voice, and continued making heavy breathing noises.
"What the heck are you doing, Jason?" asked Carson.
Jason removed the mask. "What do you think? Pretty cool, huh? Reminds me of shop class; did you ever take shop class?"
"No, I never did. The school I went to knew better than to let teenagers play with open flame."
"Too bad; fire is fun," said Jason, as he tucked the mask under his desk.
"When are you going to help me with the configuration management plan for the Dreadnaught project?" asked Carson, holding out his hands. "I have to get it done before the weekend."
"No problem," said Jason, "We can do it now." He sat down at the computer and made a few mouse clicks. "All we do is make a copy of the plan from the Santa Maria project, replace all text that says ‘Santa Maria' with the text ‘Dreadnaught', change the date, and we are done."
"That will never work. Won't Ruben notice it's the same plan?"
Jason looked at him sideways, squinting one eye. "Dude, you don't think anyone actually reads these things, do you? Trust me; even if Ruben did read it, assuming he knows how to read, he wouldn't have a clue."
Carson leaned on the desk and shook his head. "This place never ceases to amaze me."
"Don't worry. You'll eventually learn how to play the game." Jason winked.
Just then Jason's pager went off. "Uh-oh! Medusa's in the area. I've gotta run!" He held the pager out in front of him to monitor the beeping and bolted out of the cube.
Less than a minute later, Chandra appeared in the cube. "Hi Carson. Where's that loafing cube mate of yours?"
"You just missed him," replied Carson, shrugging.
Chandra's body stiffened and her face darkened. "Man that guy pisses me off! I just want to wrap my hands around his thick neck and squeeeeze!" She held her hands out in front of her, choking an invisible figure.
"Is there something I could help you with?" asked Carson in a chipper voice.
Chandra's head snapped in Carson's direction. He cringed as her flaming stare bore into him. Sensing his discomfort, she softened her demeanor and smoothed out her blouse with her hands.
"Sorry about that," she said, fixing her hair. "That man makes me crazy."
"I feel your pain," said Carson, breathing easier.
"By the way," said Chandra, her face brightening. "That herbal supplement you gave me the other day is really working! I can't remember the last time I felt this energized!"
"Oh really?" asked Carson through a fake smile.
"Do you think you get could get me some more?"
"Uh... yeah, I could do that," said Carson as he nodded. "I don't have any now, but its effects should last several days."
"Really? That's great!" She breathed in deeply through her nose. "I'd like to buy a whole bottle of the stuff if I could."
"A whole bottle?" said Carson, covering his mouth with his fingers. "I'll see what I can do."
"Oh, and I need another software build right away. Is that something you can do for me?" she asked in a sing-song voice.
"Sure, just send me an email with the details."
Chandra put her hand on his shoulder. "Thanks Carson! You're the best."
"Don't mention it; it's my job," he blushed.
She smiled at him. "Your helpful attitude is refreshing." With that, she threw her head back and left the cube. Carson marveled at how quickly she moved, in heels nonetheless.
Carson turned back to the computer to check his email. His heart raced when he saw a new response had arrived from the ‘scmsilo' account. He wasted no time in opening it and frowned when he saw the text was once again formatted in stanzas. He slapped his forehead. Not another riddle! The note contained the following:
Excellent job on finding the key!
You've proven yourself quite valuable to me
But that was the easy part of the task
I'm sorry to say, I have much more to ask
This next mission will test your resolve
And it won't involve any riddles to solve
You may think I'm mad, to request such a sting
But you must believe me; it is the right thing
There sits a small safe in Gruber's cube
When he's not there, he locks it, the boob
But when he is in, the door stands wide open
This is the time you will need to be scoping
Inside the safe you'll find a black, locked box
There are CD's inside that don't belong to that ox
The key that you have will open the top
Remove the CD's, close it, but don't stop
Return the case to the safe before you run
Then Gruber will not know what has been done
Next deliver the CD's to the Buddha
He'll have something important to give ya
I realize what I ask is a crime on its own
This type of behavior I wouldn't normally condone
But if you knew the much bigger scope
You would jump at this chance, at least I would hope
Carson couldn't believe what he had just read. This guy truly is a nut bag. Does he really think I'm going to risk my job for him?
Just then the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Is Jason Braun there?" asked a high pitched, nasal voice.
"No, he just left."
"This is Mildred from the Tempr agency. Is Carson Lucky there?"
"Hi Mildred. Yes, this is Carson."
"Oh, perfect! How's the job working out?"
"Ah... it's very interesting, to say the least."
"Oh that's great! Listen, I need a huge favor."
Carson closed his eyes and rested his brow on his fist. "What is it?"
"We need someone to make an appearance on WSHT's morning talk show. They're doing a new segment on odd jobs that no one's ever heard of. We booked a parasitologist, but he came down with a nasty case of head lice at the last minute. We thought you or Jason would be our next best choice. We still aren't sure what it is you do."
"Yeah, you and me both," he mumbled.
"What's that?"
"Nothing. Sure, I can help you out. Why not?"
"Great! Listen, I'm sorry this is so last minute, but the show's tomorrow morning. You have to be at the station by five AM. You should have plenty of time to get to work. I trust that won't be a problem?"
Carson groaned. "No, I can handle it. How do I get there?"
"I'll send you the details in an email."
"Okay," sighed Carson.
"Wonderful! Hey, thanks for helping out at the last minute like this. I think it will be a lot of fun."
"Yeah, sounds like a blast." Carson hung up the phone and put his head down in his arms. He was relieved that he now had a configuration management plan to give Ruben, but the latest email from the Riddler troubled him, and now he had to appear on some stupid morning radio show. He had developed a better understanding of his job, but not quite enough to explain it to others, especially while being broadcast over the air to God only knew how many people. He just wanted to crawl into a fetal position and disappear.
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