Federal IT 5: The Night of the Living Dorks
Return from the Cellular Grave

◆ ◆ ◆

It began, as most disasters at DAMN-IT Tower do, with an email.

Not just any email.

An executive email.

Somewhere high above the ordinary chain of command, General Tanya had apparently decided that Commissioner Peter's jurisdiction was no longer sufficient.

The message came down from above.

The government hotspot had to be returned.

Immediately, somewhere over DAMN-IT Tower-

BWAAAAAAAHHHH!

The Dork Signal illuminated the sky.

Batdork stared at the hotspot sitting beside his personal laptop.

This was not merely a hotspot.

This was power.

This was connectivity.

This was the thin electronic thread connecting Batdork's personal command center to the outside world while trapped within the concrete walls of DAMN-IT Tower.

And more importantly...

This was how Batdork talked to Alfredo.

General Tanya's order echoed through the Tower.

The hotspot must be returned.

Batdork looked toward the heavens.

But the Tower... it needs power.

It even rhymed.

General Tanya was unmoved.

No excuses.

Batdork lowered his head.

There was only one thing left to do.

Alfredo...

Yes, sir?

The Dork Signal.

A pause.

Let's go.

The Cellular Graveyard

There was a problem.

Batdork could not simply connect his personal laptop to the government network. Government equipment belonged on government systems. Personal equipment needed its own connection.

The hotspot had provided that separation.

Without it, the personal laptop would become little more than an expensive aluminum paperweight.

And so began the search for a replacement.

Plans were investigated.

Networks were compared.

Data usage was examined.

One hundred gigabytes.

One hundred fifty gigabytes.

Verizon.

AT&T.

T-Mobile.

Cricket.

The investigation eventually pointed toward a promising candidate:

Cricket Simply Data - 150 GB.

There was only one problem.

Batdork needed hardware.

He looked around the office.

Then stopped.

There, scattered throughout the forgotten corners of DAMN-IT Tower, were the remains of another era.

Old cellular hotspots.

Deactivated hotspots.

Retired hotspots.

Devices whose accounts had been terminated long ago.

Electronic corpses.

Alfredo immediately recognized the expression on Batdork's face.

Sir...

Batdork continued staring.

No.

Batdork stood.

Sir, those devices are dead.

Batdork slowly approached the graveyard.

Then we'll bring them back.

And on that Wednesday morning, Batdork ceased being Batdork.

He became...

FRANKENDORK

The laboratory opened.

Hotspots were dragged from their resting places.

USB cables were scavenged.

Charging ports were examined.

Adapters were harvested from the fallen.

The first corpse was placed upon the operating table.

Frankendork entered the IMEI.

Cricket examined the patient.

RED.

CLEAR!

ZZZZAAAAAP!

Nothing.

Another corpse.

Another IMEI.

RED.

Alfredo examined the remains.

Sir, I believe this patient has been dead for several fiscal years.

Frankendork pointed toward the next device.

NEXT!

Another hotspot hit the table.

Another compatibility test.

Then-

GREEN.

Frankendork froze.

Alfredo leaned toward the screen.

Sir...

Another device was tested.

GREEN.

Another.

GREEN.

Frankendork slowly stepped backward.

Alfredo...

Yes, sir?

They're alive.

Thunder rolled somewhere beyond DAMN-IT Tower.

KRAKAAAA-BOOM!

THEY'RE ALL ALIVE!

The Night of the Living Dorks had begun.

The Nighthawk

But there was another.

A more powerful machine.

Not inside DAMN-IT Tower.

At home.

Somewhere inside the Batcave sat another decommissioned cellular device. Its service had died long ago, but the hardware itself might still function.

And then there was the other machine.

The one Batdork already knew.

The Nighthawk.

Even Alfredo had to admit that was a ridiculously appropriate name for something belonging to Batdork.

The Nighthawk's service was dead.

Its SIM was dead.

But perhaps the machine itself could live again.

The plan became clear.

Obtain a Cricket SIM.

Activate the 150-gigabyte data plan.

Insert the SIM.

And bring the Nighthawk back from the cellular grave.

There was only one obstacle.

A tiny piece of plastic.

The Krickler

Batdork contacted the local Cricket establishment.

A mysterious guardian answered.

Her knowledge of the sacred SIM appeared... limited.

Batdork explained what he needed.

A physical BYOD SIM card.

Nothing more.

The Krickler pondered this extraordinary request.

Ummmm...

Batdork waited.

We no have it... let me call back when manager comes back... yes?

Batdork stared into the distance.

Later came the upgraded version.

KRICKLER 2.0.

The manager patch had been installed.

Batdork again explained the mission.

He had a compatible device.

He wanted a physical SIM.

He would create the account himself.

He would activate the service online.

He merely wished to purchase the approximately ten-dollar piece of plastic that Cricket existed, at least partially, to provide.

Krickler 2.0 explained the riddle.

Yes, they possessed SIM cards.

No, Batdork could not simply buy one.

To obtain the SIM card from them, he would first have to open the account inside the store, purchase the first month of service, and pay an additional activation fee.

Batdork processed this information.

So... you have the SIM card.

Yes.

And I want the SIM card.

Yes.

And I want to give you money for the SIM card.

Yes.

So sell me the SIM card.

No.

Alfredo quietly opened Amazon.

The sacred object appeared.

Cricket Wireless BYOD SIM Card Kit.

$8.49.

Delivery tomorrow.

Batdork stared at the screen.

Alfredo.

Yes, sir?

Buy the fucking thing.

CLICK.

Order confirmed.

The great Maryland SIM-card scavenger hunt was over.

Meanwhile... Back at DAMN-IT Tower

The cellular crisis wasn't the only encounter with the dead.

Two laptops had reached the end.

Their final destination:

The Void.

Batdork had prepared the box, expecting that eventually he would have to carry the remains to UPS himself.

Then, as if summoned by forces beyond human understanding...

Darryl appeared.

The UPS guy.

Right on cue.

Batdork handed Darryl the box containing two laptop corpses.

Darryl mentioned that a first-floor door was locked.

Batdork immediately understood.

Hmmm.

He looked at the small package Darryl was carrying.

I know what this means.

Darryl handed Batdork the package.

Batdork handed Darryl two dead laptops.

No further explanation was required.

Darryl departed.

Minutes later, Batdork looked outside.

The UPS truck was already gone.

Two corpses had departed DAMN-IT Tower.

One package remained.

The balance had been maintained.

SIDE QUEST ACQUIRED.

Deliver package to coworker.

Reward:

+5 XP

Meanwhile... at the Gym

Before the cellular dead began walking, another creature had already entered the developing Federal IT universe.

Meow Girl.

Her identity remained unknown.

Her backstory remained undeveloped.

But one characteristic had become impossible to ignore.

Everywhere she went...

Gym rats.

One appeared.

Then another.

Then another.

A.

B.

C.

D.

All the way through the fucking alphabet.

Meow Girl stood among them.

A cat...

surrounded by rats.

Batdork observed from a safe distance.

Alfredo took notes.

Neither man knew exactly where this character belonged yet.

But the joke was too stupid to waste.

Meow Girl had officially entered development.

The Waiting Game

By afternoon, the emergency had mostly evaporated.

The executive email had initially triggered panic because there was a ticket associated with the hotspot return.

But Batdork discovered something important.

The ticket wasn't his.

Somebody else owned that particular side quest.

Batdork still intended to return the government hotspot.

He simply wasn't going to voluntarily destroy his own Internet connection before establishing a replacement unless specifically ordered otherwise.

The Cricket SIM was coming tomorrow.

The Nighthawk awaited testing.

Several cellular zombies had already received green lights.

And somewhere inside the apartment was apparently another forgotten 5G hotspot that Batdork vaguely remembered owning but could no longer remember where the hell he put it.

Alfredo received this revelation with the appropriate level of concern.

There's another?

Yeah.

Where?

I don't fucking know.

Alfredo lowered his coffee.

Of course.

The graveyard was apparently larger than previously believed.

The Prophecy

One possibility remained.

A terrible possibility.

Tomorrow morning, Batdork might arrive at DAMN-IT Tower before the replacement Cricket SIM had reached the Batcave.

He would sit at his desk.

Place the personal laptop before him.

Open the lid.

The screen would illuminate.

Chrome would launch.

And then-

NO INTERNET CONNECTION

Google Drive:

SYNC PAUSED

OneDrive:

OFFLINE

Jarvis:

...

Silence.

Batdork's eyes would widen.

TOP-DOWN CAMERA.

The camera begins rotating.

Slowly at first.

Then faster.

Faster.

Faster.

Batdork raises both arms toward the fluorescent heavens of DAMN-IT Tower.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Cut to Commissioner Peter.

Batdork appears before him.

Commissioner.

What?

Requesting emergency telework.

Why?

Batdork lowers his voice.

Critical infrastructure failure.

Commissioner Peter looks concerned.

What infrastructure?

Batdork looks directly into his eyes.

Jarvis.

Silence.

Meanwhile... back at the apartment:

AMAZON: 8 STOPS AWAY

And thus ended another perfectly ordinary day at DAMN-IT Tower.

Two laptops had been sent into the Void.

Several cellular corpses had shown signs of life.

A Nighthawk waited in darkness.

A Krickler had successfully prevented a customer from purchasing the product he was actively attempting to purchase.

Darryl had completed an unsolicited prisoner exchange.

Meow Girl had acquired an army of gym rats.

General Tanya had activated the Dork Signal.

And somewhere between all of it, Frankendork had learned the most important lesson of the day:

Sometimes the dead aren't really dead.

Sometimes...

they just need a new SIM card.