Earth.
Theoretically speaking, it was a damned shame what was about to befall it.
Statistically speaking, practically all of its inhabitants already thought its best days were behind it—just for extremely different reasons.
Many suspected something had changed the night, a couple months back, when a bright orange beam was seen shooting into space from the epicenter of a massive power outage.
However, it sparked no flame, despite the amount of gaslight it generated. Change on this world rarely showed up unless it had no other place to be.
Jonathan pulled up to the front of the museum.
He'd done this part a few times now, but he doubted it would ever be comfortable. He'd already done his job to a satisfactory level — he managed to trick two or three people into opening malicious emails, and even convinced one poor elderly employee to give away his password over the phone. Not that he couldn't have guessed the password, but that wasn't part of the assignment.
He didn't feel good about picking on the poor old guy and sincerely hoped that failing so badly didn't jeopardize his employment.
The fact that Jonathan had technically "won" without even leaving his apartment was some comfort. He didn't even need to go in at this point. But they paid for the whole range of service, which included physical testing, so he had to at least try.
Jonathan spent the next 10 minutes, freshly laminated badge in hand, trying not to hyperventilate.
The goal was to get inside and into a restricted area without getting caught by employees. If he was lucky, he could try to get some extra credit points by breaking into a system or two while he was in there. But they did have an armed security guard, and he didn't want to push his luck in case he ran into the rental version of Barney Fife.
Jonathan paid for entry to the museum. He considered charging the museum for the expense, but it was only a few bucks, and with how dead it was on a Saturday he figured they could use as much help as they could get.
He really wondered how a museum could pay for such an intense engagement when they clearly weren't ready for any real attack. Jonathan had seen this before — usually from new security managers who had something to prove, or from nonprofits that just received big grants to shore up their information security programs.
He walked through some of the exhibits, half out of interest, and half out of just building up the nerve to access the "Employees Only" section. He didn't really have a map, and instead just opted to build a feel through leisurely wandering.
The museum itself was somewhat eclectic. It didn't feel like it had an idea as to what it wanted to display.
There was art, newspapers, natural history, even a "kidz zone" — a bunch of "interactive" displays that were likely a super spreader event waiting to happen. The busy boards were missing pieces, and half of the dinosaur sound buttons didn't even work.
Jonathan took pride in being thorough, and testing the buttons definitely counted.
Another finding: there were a serious number of blind spots in their security camera positioning.
He quietly lamented just how long writing up this report was going to take.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
When it was close to time to get on with the assignment, he went to the bathroom to wash the sweat from his hands, and if he was lucky, not vomit.
He stood in front of the mirror, psyching himself up, put a little water in his hair and stroked it back as if going in for a job interview. He figured he probably stood out more now than he did a few minutes ago, but he also knew it wasn't likely to matter — there was no indication of attentiveness from anybody he'd met so far, which was par for the course.
It was clear that none of the employees were trained in any way, shape, or form to recognize an intruder.
Still, a small self-administered pep talk was in order.
"Come on, you can do this. Even if you get caught, it's not the end of the world."
He was overall correct in this statement, as far as he was aware.
There it was. The "Employees Only" door. Right there. He just needed to turn the handle and walk right in.
In a strategic and not-at-all cowardly move, Jonathan waited for somebody else to go in so he could catch a glimpse beyond the dread portal. He saw one or two go in, but by that point it was almost lunch time, so now wasn't a good time either.
Lo and behold, at exactly 12:01 PM, several came out. Now was the time.
Well, maybe not THE time. Some ambitious worker could be wrapping up something just behind the door. And what if one of the employees who left forgot their wallet and had to head back?
Several "times" later, Jonathan finally gathered the courage to get on with it. He began to hold his breath and told himself he would not let go until he was inside.
He went up and twisted the handle.
When the door swung open, the first thing he noticed was a distinct lack of two things: eyeball-level spike traps, and WD-40. He realized he spent way too much effort duplicating a keycard. That was okay though, because he always felt like a super cool spy when he passed his messenger bag close enough to an employee to scan their card, even if the card wasn't necessary.
Beyond the door, the format of the building changed entirely.
He crossed from tastefully decorated museum space to typical corporate hell. The tiled floors, vaulted ceilings and pendulum lights were replaced with "neutral" carpet, drop ceiling panels, and fluorescent rectangles. The air smelled of mildew and cleaning agents locked in a life-or-death struggle, and there were, of course, motivational posters.
Jonathan was trying to figure out just what these employees did back here that required additional motivation.
He passed a couple of empty cubicles, including an old workstation with an office chair missing the padding on one of its armrests. It was running a 15-year-old operating system, apparently with no automatic lock timer, and a browser with a couple dozen shopping and social media tabs open.
Jonathan took one picture to show his coworkers, and another with the browser minimized to show the client in his final report. Jonathan wasn't a tattle-tale.
He did a quick check under the keyboard for sticky notes with passwords on them and found exactly that. Hopefully they'd changed it from "Newhire2023!", but he doubted it.
He quickly plugged a tool into the back of the computer, which would both capture keystrokes and allow him remote access into the system from his apartment later. None of this was necessary, of course — he would be back to do a full "white box" test later, which would include logging into their doubtlessly weak network directly. But the more you find the more "kudos" you get, and Jonathan loved the validation.
Jonathan took a few more discreet pictures of the office, including walking right by the office of his contact. He was extremely tempted to make the ultimate flex and invite himself in, but the contact was on a call, and only bad spies are famous.
He did snap a quick picture of the guy on the phone for even more proof.
On his way out, Jonathan found a utility closet and was finally able to use that key card. There, he found the networking devices for the entire building and installed another tool just to prove he could.
The only way he could have owned this place more thoroughly is if he'd found an open safe with a brick of cash and an actual deed to the building. He didn't find a safe, but if he had, he was sure it'd open with whatever the default combination was for that brand. He was pretty sure most safes didn't have default combinations, but was certain if this museum had one, it would. The thought was academic, of course — breaking into a safe was definitely not in scope and would likely get him fired if he was lucky.
Jonathan found an employee exit and headed for it.
His jitters were completely gone by this point, and he was riding high. This feeling is the reason he got into this field.
With the confidence of a seasoned assassin having just made their hundredth kill — or whatever it is assassins celebrate — he pushed the back door open, stepped outside, and with a deep satisfied breath, was promptly knocked unconscious and thrown into the back of an old van.
