The convention center was packed to the brim with thousands of attendees, press, businessmen, and influencers from across the globe. Everyone was there to witness the unveiling of the next generation of technology. It was so popular that people flocked in droves just to catch a glimpse of it, causing traffic for several miles. I always hated these events, and wouldn't have bothered if not for one thing: my job.
I'm a journalist; more specifically, a tech columnist. Every few months or so, when an event like this happened, I was obligated to go. Otherwise, my boss wouldn't be happy. It was pretty cool at first, getting invited to every major press event in the country. The travel alone was worth it. However, after seeing a hundred releases of smart devices, cybernetics, fancy cars, and other tech nonsense over the years, all promising the world, only for them to disappoint... that charm quickly faded and then turned into a bitterness that's hard to get rid of. I would have quit by now, but with the market how it is, you can't afford not to take what you can get.
This particular convention had promised to show off "revolutionary technology" that will "change the face of our society," blah, blah, blah. As long as I got some new gimmicky article out of it, my job here was done. Hopefully, I could just slip in, watch their presentation, grab an interview if there is time, then sneak out while the rush formed. It's what I usually do nowadays. No use wasting time on anything else.
I sat at a table in the small courtyard outside, full of hungry patrons and food vendors selling overpriced snacks and sandwiches, waiting for Garrett to arrive. He was our photographer and camera guy back at the office, so he was stuck coming with me whenever these sorts of things came up. Fortunately for him, this is the one thing he actually enjoyed doing. He never missed an opportunity to test out every piece of new gear he could get his hands on. Sometimes I thought he loved all the shiny gadgets more than taking pictures.
Still, whenever he's late, I get impatient. I don't have a lot of free time, as most reporters don't; but I did want to avoid any unnecessary delays if possible. There are already enough people milling about inside to make traffic near unbearable. Adding any more to that would only make getting around even more of a pain.
I tap my foot. The next conference is in fifteen minutes. Where the hell is he? I'm thinking to myself. I wanna get this day over with. I look around the courtyard, my eyes scanning the crowds, trying to find someone who fits his description, as I sip on an overpriced coffee. The taste was far too bitter, even with sugar added. I couldn't stomach it. It was like this place used recycled waste sludge instead of coffee grounds. Part of me was beginning to hope I could find a coffee machine or something here that would-
"Davey, hey!" A voice calls out from behind me. I turn around in my seat, recognizing that irritating nickname anywhere. Jogging towards me through the crowd, panting heavily, is Garrett. His dark red hair looks messier than usual, strands sticking up everywhere like a bramble bush. That, along with his slightly dirty blue shirt and khaki pants made him stand out, especially in contrast with all the fancy suits around. I didn't think he owned anything besides jeans. Guess today was the exception. "Apologies, man. You should've seen the line for the bathroom they had in there. If I knew it would take so long, I would've gone before we left." He was winded. Apparently, he must have ran all the way here.
I roll my eyes, giving a slight sigh of frustration. "You're late." 
"Shit,"  He takes a moment to catch his breath, leaning onto the table. "We miss the big reveal?"
"Thankfully, no." I push myself up from my seat. The metal legs of the chair screeching against the pavement as I stood up. "But they're making their announcement soon, and I still need to get us into the auditorium." I fix my black tie, which hung loosely on me. The damned thing won't stay tight, for some reason.
Garrett was breathing normally now. "Ah, well that's good to hear," He wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead. "That means we got time for lunch."
"What?! No, we don't have time! We gotta go."
"Aw, come on, Davey." Garrett said as he flashed me one of his stupid smiles. "Can't we just grab a quick bite here before the main event?"
"Garrett, the conference starts in less than fifteen minutes from now. We've gotta work our way through a sea of suits and high tech nerds just to find a seat, let alone the stage. That alone will take time, and you know how busy these places get during events like this."
"Okay, fine..." He pauses for a moment. "How 'bout just a hot dog then?"
"Ugh... Fine." I say as I pinch the bridge of my nose. It's easier to just give him what he wants instead of fighting with him. Less stress that way. "Just be quick about it, okay?"
"Thanks, man." Garrett gives me another grin as he struts off toward one of the food vendors in the courtyard. I shake my head disapprovingly. Sometimes I wonder if he forgets that we're at work sometimes. Though, to be fair, he is always pretty casual back at the office, so his excitement was probably due to being here with all these fancy gadgets.
I sigh in defeat. It's going to take more than just a few cups of coffee to get through today... I grab my messenger bag from the ground beside me and sling it over my shoulder. As much as I hate doing these press junkets, at least there might be something interesting inside the building worth talking about. If nothing else, maybe someone will try selling me on some useless product in order to make their sales quota for the month. Either way, I should probably get moving. I take another sip from my cup of coffee before tossing it away into the nearest trash can. Better make this fast. I walk over toward where Garrett is standing by a vendor stall, a hot dog in hand. "Alright, Garrett. Let's move."
"Be right with ya." Garrett says before taking a huge bite out of the sausage-like meat encased between two pieces of bread. "Oh damn!" He exclaims while chewing. "This stuff is actually really good! Man, you gotta try some!"
I groan. "No thanks. Just hurry up so we can get to our seats already."
Garrett finishes the last bit of his food and throws the wrapper into the garbage. "Alright, alright, I'm coming. Don't rush me."
We both head back into the convention center, press IDs in hand, and sure enough, there were hundreds of people roaming the halls, all wearing business suits or expensive clothing, chatting amongst themselves over what all this new tech is capable of, what it will do to help them do their jobs better or faster, or whatever else people in those careers tend to care about. Sure, this wasn't the largest tech event in the country, this isn't Vegas after all, but there are more than enough people here to make navigation difficult at best, annoying at worst. We weave our way through crowds of guests milling about at vendor booths, past dozens upon dozens of panels and displays touting some new feature or capability, all without any idea how many more times we'll need to do this in the next twenty-four hours.
I tug at my shirt collar as we continue our way down the hallways, heading towards the main auditorium where they had set up the stage and presentation equipment. It seemed like every booth and display here was selling some new gadget or gizmo with some crazy functionality. Some advertised cybernetics designed specifically for work-related tasks, like increased dexterity for surgeons, or extra processing power for software engineers. Others showed off virtual reality headsets for use in the entertainment industry, or smart devices for personal use in your home. Hell, I even spotted a few stalls with people demonstrating cutting edge robotic limbs to replace missing appendages, courtesy of their own cybernetics department. You name it, they probably had it somewhere around here.
Even so, nothing seemed particularly unique. It was all the same old crap over again, but with slightly different packaging and more eye-catching graphics. What made this company so special? Was their claim to fame really just because they claimed to be "revolutionary"? If that were true, then why have so many other companies used the exact same terminology to describe their products before? I honestly couldn't tell at this point, and that irked me. It didn't make sense to me that a corporation with such an overblown reputation for innovation would lack any actual substance whatsoever. Maybe they do, and I simply don't know what it is. But if there truly is some hidden secret here, I hope it's not just another empty promise to entice investors into throwing money at them. That never ends well for anyone involved.
We finally reach our destination, the auditorium. And just in the nick of time, too. The place was packed to the brim with businessmen, entrepreneurs, journalists, and others who had paid to attend. Almost every seat in the entire venue was full, save for the ones near the back row closest to the exit. At least there was one perk of being late. Still, it did make finding an available space for the two of us quite difficult. Fortunately, we manage to locate a pair of open seats in the center section, about halfway towards the front. Perfect. I glance down at my watch. There was only five minutes until the presentation started. Hopefully we could still see everything clearly from this angle.
Once we take our seats, Garrett pulls out his camera bag. He removes one of the lenses from the padded compartment and begins attaching it to the body. The lens is black, with a dark green band running along its perimeter, indicating that it's a telephoto zoom. The aperture ring sits above the focusing mechanism, ready to adjust exposure levels as needed. Garrett brings the camera up to his eye, pressing his face against the eyecup as he focuses on the stage ahead of us. He moves the focus knob several times, fine-tuning the picture until he's satisfied. Finally, he releases his grip, allowing the camera to dangle freely from the strap around his neck.
"That should do the trick." He whispers to himself, a self-assured smile spreading across his face. "I can get plenty of shots from this distance, and I won't need any additional gear besides the telephoto."
"Good. We should be able to record most of the presentation with that thing. Especially if they bring out a PowerPoint or video, though I doubt it."
"You never know." Garrett shrugs. "For all we know, they might go all out with holographic imaging. That'd be neat."
"That'd be a pain to deal with," I grumble under my breath. "It's bad enough trying to listen to this sort of bullshit without having to worry about accidentally touching something."
Garrett chuckles softly. "Always the skeptic, Davey. You'll see, I'm sure they have something worthwhile up their sleeve for us."
"Uh-huh."
 The audience quiets down almost instantly as the lights begin to dim, awaiting the appearance of the presenter. A moment passes in silence, followed by a low rumble emanating from the speakers embedded within the walls of the room. Some music starts playing, and the projector starts to flicker to life, casting an image onto the screen behind the podium. Onscreen appears a somewhat cheaply animated logo of the letters BHT in all caps fading onto a white background. BHT, now why does that sound familiar? I think to myself. Perhaps I saw an article about this company recently?
The music fades into the background as the animation ends, and on the screen, a man appears. He wears a neatly pressed gray suit, his face framed by dark hair streaked with silver. He looks to be about fifty years old, give or take, although he could pass for forty. His features are sharp and angular, but his expression remains neutral. When he speaks, his voice echoes throughout the auditorium, filling every nook and cranny. 
"Good afternoon everyone, and thank you for joining us today." The language he spoke was in Korean, but the subtitles at the bottom of the screen translated his words into English. Rather beneficial for some in the audience like me, but redundant for others who have implants allowing for the translation of foreign languages. "I am Dr. Ki Jae-Ho, CEO and founder of Bihn-Hanyang Technologies."
Bihn-Hanyang Tech? Oh yeah, now I remember who these guys were. They're that Vietnamese biotech company that got acquired by a Korean tech company through illegitimate means back during the war some years back. There was a lot of controversy surrounding the whole affair. BHT had been accused of taking advantage of the country's economic situation in order to gain a foothold in the market; however, they somehow managed to skirt around any legal action taken against them due to political corruption on their end. As a result, they've gone on to become one of the most successful companies in the region, earning billions in profits every year. All through appropriating their neurotech and rebranding it as a way to increase productivity in the workforce and improve quality of life as opposed to what it was actually used for which was fun things like military intervention and corporate espionage. Not exactly ethical, but hey, capitalism's a bitch.
I look back up at the screen and continue listening intently to Dr. Jae-Ho's speech. "For many years now, we have devoted ourselves to pushing the boundaries of human potential through our cutting edge research and development team. We strive to create new technologies that will benefit mankind as a whole, while remaining focused on improving the lives of individuals all around the world."
He pauses, waiting patiently for his words to sink in, before continuing on. "Today, I am proud to announce that we have achieved one of these goals: the creation of an implant capable of enhancing a person's cognitive functions far beyond their natural capabilities. This technology can be inserted directly into the brain, allowing users access to vast amounts of data stored inside its database without relying on external hardware. By interfacing directly with the brain, these devices are capable of providing information instantaneously, giving us an unprecedented amount of knowledge at our disposal."
As he finishes his spiel, I let out a sigh. More artificial intelligence technology... Just what we need right now. The room goes dead silent, all eyes locked onto the doctor standing onstage. After a second passes, he breaks the tension and smiles. "Now then, without further ado... allow us to introduce you to our latest product from Bihn-Hanyang Technologies." The screen faded to black as music began to swell back up. The image showcased on the screen turns to a 3D rendering of an electronic implant device, similar to those the company has made previously. 
A female voiceover begins narrating the clip, in an almost robotic, monotone delivery. "Imagine a future where humans are no longer bound by the limitations of their own physical bodies. Imagine being able to see, hear, and feel things never before possible, while simultaneously processing information in ways unheard of until now. Imagine experiencing an entirely new reality where everything you could ever desire becomes available at your fingertips... and then realize that all this is possible through Bihn-Hanyang technology and neural enhancements." The screen transforms from the previous device to a new one that looked drastically different. It had sleeker lines, an almost metallic sheen to its surface, with cables extending from the sides connecting to the skull of an adult male. It resembled more of a small computer chip than a medical implant.
This technology looks impressive, but I can't shake the feeling that something else is going on here. Maybe I'm just paranoid, but I wouldn't be surprised if the company is hiding something. There's always some dark secret behind every big breakthrough like this. Just ask any reporter. I watch carefully as the camera pans across the room, showing off all sorts of equipment. From treadmills and exercise bikes to desks full of computers and monitors, every piece of machinery seems designed specifically for people who work hard every day. But there's one piece missing: an operating table. In fact, there is no sign anywhere of any medical supplies or instruments whatsoever. Strange, considering how much emphasis was placed on healthcare earlier. Why is that?
The voice continues. "At Bihn-Hanyang, we believe in pushing humanity forward with every step we take. With these upgrades, you can become faster, stronger, smarter, more efficient than ever before." The screen then switches to a scene showing several people using various machines and tools, their movements precise and fluid. "You can be the best version of yourself, and we're excited to help you get there. Now, let us show you how this new generation of enhancements works..."
The narrator starts explaining each facet of the product in detail, showing how it works and where it is meant to be inserted. All the usual technical mumbo-jumbo one expects from these presentations. The thing doesn't even seem all that impressive in practice, just like every other piece of tech I've seen this week. The only thing I notice different about it is the way the thing looks. Which, I have to admit, makes for an interesting aesthetic, but doesn't change much about the product itself.
I sigh and lean back in my seat. This whole presentation seemed a bit forced and scripted. Like someone wrote this whole thing out beforehand, rehearsed the whole thing, and made sure to stick to their lines exactly. I've done enough press interviews over the course of my career to know when something's phony, and this reeked of it. I scan the crowd, trying to gauge everyone else's reaction. Most of them appear to be mildly intrigued, some excited. Not surprising. People always get excited for the newest gadget; however, judging from the fact that the majority of the crowd here is comprised of suits, I guess they're expecting a massive return on their investments once the product hits the shelves. Can't blame them really. Everything I've seen so far has been pretty lackluster.
I turn my attention towards Garrett, whose eyes are locked onto the screen, his mouth agape with wonder. He is completely mesmerized. His hands grip tightly onto his camera, taking pictures whenever he sees fit. He pays no heed to anything else going on around him. In fact, he is so absorbed in what he's doing, he fails to notice me staring at him.
I roll my eyes and shake my head, turning my focus back to the presentation. This might go a lot smoother if I stop being so cynical. No sense wasting energy complaining about shit I can't change anyway. I watch as the video ends, and the screen fades back to black as Dr. Jae-ho reappears on screen. The audience applauds, but it's half-hearted at best. Everyone knows that the real show is yet to come.
"Thank you for listening to our announcement. We are aware many of you may have questions that need answering. However, I am unable to attend the event in person due to other business commitments, so I have arranged for one of our associates to speak to you on my behalf."  The video fades to black for a seemingly final time as a man walks onto the stage from the right hand side of the stage, dressed in a gray suit matching that of the one worn by the announcer. He stops at the center of the stage, standing tall and confident, hands clasped together in front of him.
"Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Bryan Pyeon. I am a representative of Bihn-Hanyang and in charge of marketing our newest product line. Dr. Jae-ho wanted to pass along his apologies for not being able to join us today. Unfortunately, he was needed elsewhere. But please allow me to formally welcome you to our presentation today."
Mr. Pyeon speaks with such poise and elegance, he could almost pass as royalty. Though he isn't as charismatic as the previous speaker, his tone is friendly enough to keep people interested. However, I can't help noticing his choice of words: Dr. Jae-ho sent him here instead. Hm... That means the CEO didn't trust his employees enough to handle the PR themselves. Maybe I was right after all. There's definitely more to this than meets the eye. I scribble a note in my notebook before returning my gaze upwards.
"Now then, I hope you've enjoyed our brief introduction. Our primary goal here today is to show you how our newest technology can improve your lives exponentially. It promises greater efficiency, better productivity, increased happiness, and above all else, peace of mind." He raises his left hand high into the air as he recites these phrases in rapid succession, before slowly lowering it back down to his side. "The main selling point is convenience. No more having to wait for hours upon hours in line at a hospital or clinic for surgery, no more recovery time required from surgery itself, and best of all, no need to purchase separate pieces of equipment or hardware that require regular maintenance or upkeep. These improvements can easily save you hundreds or even thousands of dollars over time." Another wave of applause follows Mr. Pyeon's words. However, unlike the last, this one seems much more enthusiastic. Perhaps people are finally starting to understand the magnitude of their investment. Or perhaps they're just getting bored. Who knows? I try to pay attention as Mr. Pyeon continues, but I can't shake this weird feeling in my gut. Something's off here. I just don't know what yet.
"You may be wondering how we can achieve such a feat. Well, thanks to our proprietary manufacturing techniques, we're able to produce devices that are lighter weight, less invasive, and more durable than any other model on the market. Coupled with our patented Neurological Implant Design software, which allows users to customize every aspect of their experience, from sensory input to motor control, this system ensures maximum performance and safety without any risks whatsoever. And the best part? It's backwards compatible with previous generations, allowing people to upgrade to the latest version whenever they want." The audience claps again, their enthusiasm growing steadily by the minute. I sit in my seat a bit confounded though. What did he mean by "backwards compatible"? Wouldn't that defeat the purpose of making a new product? Unless there's something I'm missing.
"Now, there may be some in the audience that question the ability to work with prior generations of our proprietary neuroware devices made over the past decade or so." He says. I'm rather surprised he's getting into it now actually. "You see, the problem with traditional computing methods is they require a great deal of computational power. And while that isn't an issue nowadays, we still struggle to provide adequate support to older generations. However, thanks to our newest model, this won't be an issue. With just a few tweaks, we're able to adjust the input from these older versions of our devices so they can interact with the new systems seamlessly, ensuring seamless integration across the board. In other words, it means that if you're a current user of our existing products, you'll be able to enjoy all the benefits of this latest addition without worrying about compatibility issues whatsoever."
"On top of this, we've also made it easy for people who already possess our old models to upgrade to the latest version at any time they want. All they have to do is insert their old unit into our custom-designed adapter port, and it will automatically integrate into the new device via our proprietary software. Once that happens, all the previous data stored within their original unit transfers over to the newer one, saving them valuable time and money spent learning to use our new system. Of course, there are some instances where our software cannot support some of the older versions due to hardware limitations; however, we've taken care to ensure that such situations are rare."
This sounds too good to be true. How could someone come up with such an ingenious design? It almost seems like magic. And yet, there is still one thing bothering me about all of this. Why would they bother releasing a new product if their old one already worked perfectly fine? I glance over at Garrett who seems enamored by the talk. I give him a nudge to grab his attention, and he shoots me a confused look.
"Garrett," I whisper, leaning toward him. "Is any of this sounding strange to you?"
"Shh," He shushes me sharply. The sound barely reaches my ears over the loud clamor coming from the crowd. I sigh in annoyance and cross my arms over my chest. I wish he would take this seriously. I know it's just business but I really need him to be paying attention here.
"Many folks here might be curious about how effective this technology will truly be. Rest assured, we've conducted extensive testing with our 250 volunteers who signed up to be beta testers for this product. I can safely say that every single one of them reported an increase in efficiency by an average of 71% compared to the standard baseline. Some even claimed to experience enhanced memory recall and faster thought processing speeds. Additionally, many stated that they felt more energized, happier, and healthier overall after implementing our product." Mr. Pyeon pauses for effect, letting his words sink in. "And if that doesn't convince you, then please consider this: of our beta testers, only two out of one hundred failed to see any significant benefits from this device, and neither experienced any side effects whatsoever."
What!? I look out over the sea of faces in front of me, most of them staring up at the stage in awe, some with excitement etched on their expressions, some with uncertainty. A murmur ripples through the audience, people discussing amongst themselves about what they'd heard, while others nod silently. Meanwhile, I stare incredulously at Garrett who sits beside me with a bewildered look plastered across his face.
"But I don't want you to take my word for it," Mr. Pyeon continues. "So why not have one of our test subjects describe it themselves?" He turns towards the back of the stage, beckoning someone forward. A young man emerges from the shadows, looking timid and nervous. He wears jeans and a faded tee-shirt with the logo of a popular video game emblazoned upon its front. He takes tentative steps towards the podium, visibly trembling as he approaches the microphone. He clears his throat several times before speaking, his voice shaky at first. "Uh... Hello. M-My name is Kevin."
Kevin takes a deep breath as if steeling himself for what's coming. He straightens his posture before proceeding. "Before joining Bihn-Hanyang, I was diagnosed with a severe form of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I constantly suffered from intense anxiety attacks whenever I performed tasks requiring concentration. I was unable to function properly without medication, which rendered me incapable of functioning normally outside my home. So when I heard about their program, I jumped at the chance to participate." 
"And how has it affected your life?" Mr. Pyeon prompts.
"Well, when they put the implant inside my brain, it felt weird, but once they turned it on, everything changed. Suddenly, it was like a switch flipped inside me. It was as if my whole perspective shifted into a different place. Before, I'd had trouble focusing and concentrating on tasks. But now I can see everything so clearly. I can hear what people are saying without struggling to concentrate on their words. And I can comprehend information better. It's incredible."
People start muttering amongst themselves, their interest piqued by his remarks. A few even begin applauding softly. Mr. Pyeon smiles, nodding his approval as he listens intently. I can tell he enjoys seeing the reactions of those in attendance. I bet he's pleased with himself as well. I suppose he deserves to feel accomplished. After all, he managed to make people feel like they were in a science fiction novel. Still, I'm not convinced. There has to be some kind of catch involved here. I'm sure of it.
"That's wonderful to hear, Kevin. Thank you for sharing with us. Now, I know everyone else here is curious about our pricing options. For those who-" Mr. Pyeon cuts himself off as he turns around for a moment. Kevin still stands there frozen in place, his face a mask of horror. His eyes bulge, and his breathing becomes labored. I don't think this is a part of the presentation showcase anymore. "Uh, Kevin, are you alright, man? You can go backstage now."
No response comes from Kevin who looks pale as a ghost. His hands shake uncontrollably, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. He begins hyperventilating, his entire body quaking. Then suddenly, he screams out in agony, causing everyone to cover their ears as it plays over the mic. He grabs his head and doubles over, falling to his knees. I watch helplessly as he writhes about wildly, thrashing about as if possessed. Everyone nearby backs away fearfully, giving him plenty of space. This is definitely not part of the show.
I can't help but wonder what went wrong. Maybe there was something off about the implant? But no, they said there were no risks. That shouldn't have happened. Could it be because the thing wasn't activated yet? But why would that cause such a violent reaction? Is this normal? Are there other things that can cause this? Questions run rampant through my mind as I try to make sense of what is happening before my very eyes.
All around me, the audience is stunned into silence, unsure of what to do. Mr. Pyeon tries to help the young man calm down, but Kevin's behavior grows increasingly erratic as he begins scratching at Mr. Pyeon's face and neck with his bare hands. He quickly waves over to security to get them to call an ambulance while attempting to pacify the frightened onlookers. The guards rush into action, rushing to aid Kevin. They grab hold of him, trying to contain his flailing limbs, but they too struggle to keep him restrained. It seems like he's out of control now, attacking everything he sees.
Several minutes pass by without any change. At one point, he bites the shoulder of a guard, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. The man cries out in pain, yelling out for assistance as blood flows freely from his wound. 
"Stop the presentation!" Mr. Pyeon yells out loudly towards the tech people up front. "Stop the presentation! It's malfunctioning! Stop the presentation now!" His words ring loud and clear throughout the auditorium. Soon after, the screen flickers and goes blank. All of the lights dim, casting us into darkness as well before the lights fade back on gradually. even the cameras stop recording, their lenses aimed skyward. No one wants to risk capture by the authorities for violating some obscure law that prohibits live streaming footage of these events. 
Security and the paramedics start dragging the erratic Kevin off stage with Mr. Pyeon swiftly rushing off stage behind them. Everyone is dumbfounded as they try to process what had just occurred. There are audible gasps from many as they stare at the now empty stage, the screens now blank. All of the monitors showing the product showcase and infomercial cut off as if something had caused them to reset or crash. Even the music that was playing on loop stopped abruptly. The silence is deafening. Nobody dares move a muscle, waiting patiently to see what will happen next.
As for myself, I'm speechless. I can't believe that just happened. It looks like a scene from one of those horror movies where a robot goes haywire and starts killing people indiscriminately. Except in this case, it wasn't a machine doing the killing but a human being. What exactly occurred here tonight? Was it truly just a glitch or something else entirely? Perhaps that implant had damaged something inside of the man? Maybe there was some sort of programming error? Whatever the explanation, there are serious questions that need to be answered. And since Bihn-Hanyang took responsibility for it, they'll have to do so publicly. In any event, I have a feeling my editor will be happy with this story regardless of the outcome. It should prove quite controversial, and that's exactly what we need right now. We haven't had a major news story in months.
"Well, Garrett," I say, turning to him as I break the silence between us, "I'm gonna admit that this was the most interesting, albeit terrifying, press event I've attended in a long time. You wanna grab lunch now or should we stick around until we see what they're gonna do about this?"
Garrett sits next to me, wide-eyed. He looks shaken by what he witnessed, his face slightly paler than usual. After a moment or two, he replies weakly, "I think I need some fresh air, David." Damn, he rarely uses my actual name unless we're working. This is worse than I thought. 
"Noted, I'll help you outside then." I get out of my seat and offer a hand to the tech writer. He nods thankfully and takes it, allowing me to assist him through the aisle to the exit. Once outside, he collapses against the wall of the convention center and slides down onto the ground. I kneel down next to him, concerned. "Garrett, are you okay?"
He closes his eyes tightly, breathing deeply through his nose. "Yeah... I'm just... Shit. Got a bit of a headache is all. Nothing to worry about." He pauses before continuing, "That was just a lot more intense than I expected. Not exactly pleasant seeing someone in that kind of pain. Kinda got to me, ya know?"
I nod understandingly. I didn't enjoy the sight either. But it does raise some interesting questions about the viability of this tech. Sure, the concept was cool, but it makes you wonder if this stuff could end up hurting people like Kevin had. What if more incidents like this happen again? Will anybody else even bother taking another look at these products? If so, then this could turn out to be one hell of a big mistake for the company. Either way, it definitely raises an alarm bell. It's almost impossible to trust a device that can cause so much pain and suffering just because of a minor glitch. 
"Hopefully, that guy will be alright." I remark casually, hoping to lighten the mood slightly. "Or at least stable enough that they can fix him."
"Right. Hopefully." Garrett echoes back. He takes another deep breath before standing upright once more, his complexion improving ever so slightly. He dusts himself off and gives a shrug. "Thanks, Davey. I appreciate the help."
I give a half smile, glad that he seems to be doing a bit better. "Anytime, bud. Now, on the subject of lunch..."
*
"This isn't going to be good for our stocks." I say solemnly, tapping my foot against the floor as I watch the monitors closely, the recorded chaos unfolding on screen. This is what I like to refer to as, for a lack of better words, a complete shitshow on all accounts.
"Not good for our shareholders either, Hye-Jin."  Ki Jae-Ho replies in a tired, stressed voice through the video conference. His image is projected onto the screen above me as we review the debacle. It was at least six in the morning back in Seoul, and he looked exhausted. After all, it's not every day that your newest invention ends up almost killing a man in public. "Do we have any idea how it malfunctioned? Have you found anything yet?"
I shake my head, brushing back my loose black hair as I check my tablet for the fourth time today. "No sir, we're still analyzing the code. Our best guess is that there must have been some sort of corruption or faulty component in the implant that caused its software to bug out. Though honestly, that doesn't make much sense. All our testing indicated zero chance of failure in the field. I wouldn't have even imagined such an occurrence occurring in my worst nightmare."
"Neither did I." Jae-Ho sighs. "But now we need to clean up this mess, fast." He pauses for a moment, thinking through the problem before addressing me once again. "Can we salvage any of this situation? Did we record enough data on Kevin's implant to determine what caused it to malfunction so horribly? And what about the backups? Are there any backups we can restore from?"
"We were able to retrieve some fragments, yes," I confirm. "But nothing useful enough to reconstruct a proper image of his neural activity."
"Okay. How much is 'enough'?" He asks, furrowing his brow.
"Hard to say exactly. Probably nothing usable."
"Dammit." Jae-Ho swears, slamming a fist down angrily onto his desk. "Alright, fine. We can deal with this. If we could recover from the exploding phone incident decades ago and the unbreakable window on our flagship vehicle breaking during a presentation some years back, then we can recover from this as well. We just need to do damage control."
I nod my agreement. "Right. That's what I was thinking as well."
He takes a deep breath, calming himself down slightly. "So, what's our strategy?"
"Well..." I begin hesitantly, trying to find the right words to phrase my plan. "I think we should apologize profusely for this situation. It was beyond our control, and it could have resulted in serious injuries or even death. However, we shouldn't go so far as to reveal any details of what caused the accident. We don't want to admit that our tech went haywire in public, especially considering how many reporters were present. The last thing we need is for word getting out that our new product caused someone to go crazy. However, I have no doubt that there are already rumors flying about how dangerous this new technology is, and how it needs to be investigated. So, instead, we need to redirect the media's attention. Make this seem like an isolated incident, and that we're going to solve it, no matter what. If we can convince everyone that this was just one instance of poor quality control and a freak accident, then we can salvage our reputation somewhat."
"Fine. We'll spin it that way and focus on how safe our tech is. Hopefully, that'll work for now." Jae-Ho states flatly. "Now, did we release any information on this issue publicly yet?"
I shake my head. "No, we were planning on announcing a statement soon. Should I do that now, or...?"
"No, let's wait until later. Give everyone time to cool down. By then, hopefully, we'll have some answers for them, and they won't be demanding our heads on sticks." Jae-Ho runs a hand through his greying hair, letting out a frustrated sigh.
"Will do, sir."
"Thank you. And please send my regards to Mr. Pyeon, will you? Tell him that I am terribly sorry for the unfortunate circumstances, and that he should take time off work to recuperate from his injury." Jae-Ho hangs up abruptly before I can respond, leaving me staring blankly at the dark screen. I shake my head sadly and mentally prepare myself to call up Bryan. This won't be an easy conversation, but somebody has to do it. I tap the earpiece of my commlink twice to dial his number. After three rings, he picks up.
"Bryan, hey man," I greet, keeping my tone casual despite my anxiety. "How's it hanging?"
"Hye-Jin, what the fuck was that!?" Bryan shouts out in pure frustration. I'm partially taken aback by the anger in his voice. It's rare that I hear anyone talk that way towards me. Then again, this is rather understandable considering how bad that shitshow of a presentation ended.
"Look, I know this looks bad-" I attempt to soothe the situation, but Bryan cuts me off.
"Looks bad?! Understatement of the century, girl. How the hell did you let that happen!? And don't give me that bullshit about the code being corrupted or whatever, you guys have more competent programmers than that. We both know that isn't true. We tested it thoroughly, so what the fuck went wrong? Huh??"
I let out an exasperated sigh and rub my temples to ease the building migraine. I really don't need this right now. I have enough to deal with. "Okay, okay. You're right, our engineers aren't idiots. We're doing everything we can to figure out what happened. It's just taking longer than expected because of the lack of data. I know that's not a good excuse, but I promise we're doing our best here. All we know right now is that there's no indication of any errors during the beta trials."
"No indication? That kid nearly tore my face off in a fucking frenzy. You know how many stitches I got on my face right now? Sixteen! God, my head is pounding..."
"Yeah, that sounds pretty awful, I know. But I'm sure you'll be fine. You'll be back to normal in no time, right?" I offer kindly, trying to alleviate his stress.
"Easy for you to say. You weren't the one getting clawed apart like some cheap rag doll, bitch."
"Alright, you don't have to be mean about it. I didn't mean to offend you. And you don't have to be so harsh with your language. I was just trying to be helpful." I mutter, feeling dejected by his attitude. I get that he's angry, but he doesn't have to lash out so violently. That's not the type of person he is. He's normally kindhearted and fun to talk to. The last time he acted this hostile was when I spilled coffee on him in the elevator back at headquarters. Of course, I apologized repeatedly afterward and even offered to pay for his dry cleaning.
"Oh yeah? Well, if you wanna be helpful, how about finding out what the hell caused this disaster? Because frankly, I don't trust anyone else around here to do it." Bryan snaps back spitefully before disconnecting. I sit there stunned, staring dumbly at my tablet. He has never treated me like this before, which worries me greatly. What if he's changed his mind about me? Does he hate me now? Or is he simply venting out of frustration? I hope it's the latter... Either way, I could use a drink. Of the alcoholic variety preferably.
*
"You know, when I watched that documentary on this place having some of the best club sandwiches on the west coast, I didn't believe them one bit," I say, my mouth full of a bite from said sandwich. "Turns out, they were right all along. I'm impressed."
Garrett merely nods halfheartedly, his gaze focused solely upon the table in front of him. He hasn't touched his meal whatsoever, simply pushing around bits of food idly with his fork. This isn't like him. Usually, he would jump at the chance to chow down on some grub after spending hours at a press event. What happened to him? Was it all that stress? Or perhaps he's still upset about watching that presentation go awry. Who knows?
"Something bothering you, buddy?" I inquire worriedly, leaning forward slightly in my seat to look him in the eye. He doesn't look back. "Come on, man. You can talk to me about it."
He shrugs, sighing heavily. "It's just... I guess I'm still rattled by everything that went down today. I mean, seeing someone act so violently like that... Seeing them lose their minds... I've never seen anything like that in real life. Only in movies. And it scared the shit out of me, y'know?"
"Yeah, I totally get you. I don't think any of us were prepared for that." I concur wholeheartedly. "Especially those of us who were sitting closer to the stage. I mean, how could you be? But at the same time, I didn't think the implants were actually that harmful. I know people usually associate neuroware with cyborgs and psychotic breakdowns, but those are usually fictional. I always figured most of them were safe for use."
"They are." He assures me sternly. "If they weren't, they wouldn't be approved for sale on the open market. Those devices have been subjected to rigorous testing by federal safety inspectors, who've ensured that they meet all relevant guidelines. This isn't like back in the nineties or early two thousands, Davey. Most companies have learned their lesson on that front. We know better now. Hell, Bihn-Hanyang has more regulations in place than any other brand on the market. That's why they've been so successful lately."
"Then how come the implant malfunctioned anyway?"
"No clue. Maybe we'll get an explanation later. Right now, I'm too damn tired to care about that shit."
"Fair enough." I relent reluctantly. I'm curious as to what caused Kevin's malfunctioning implant, but I won't push Garrett if he doesn't want to discuss it further. I'd hate to force him into sharing if he doesn't feel comfortable with the subject. Especially considering how poorly he's handled things so far. Best to let him rest for now. "Hey, maybe you should finish eating and take a nap when we get back. You look like you need it."
"Maybe..." He mumbles indistinctly. Then without warning, he lifts his head and stares at me. His expression seems... Different somehow. Almost like he's confused or bewildered by something.
"Garrett? Everything okay?" I ask hesitantly.
"Uh... Yeah... I... Uh... Do you... Know how I... Uh... Got here?" He asks haltingly, as though unsure of what he's saying.
"What are you talking about?"
"How did I... Get here? To this... Diner."
I pause, my eyes widening in disbelief. "What? Wait, Garrett, what do you remember about today?"
He shakes his head slowly from side to side, looking perplexed. "I... Don't know... It feels weird, like everything's foggy."
I take a moment to try and comprehend this information. Garrett's brain has some form of damage. It's obvious. Though I'm unsure if it's just from stress or from something else entirely. Regardless, it seems severe enough to impair his ability to recall recent events clearly. What exactly could have happened between now and earlier at the showcase? Whatever it was, it must've been traumatic if it affected him this badly. I've never known Garrett to forget things easily. He tends to have a steel trap memory. Something else must be amiss here. But what could possibly cause this problem?
"Okay, alright. Well, um... Okay, how about this," I propose. "Let's drop by the hotel and relax for a bit, hm? How's that sound?"
"No, no... No... No. I don't... Uhhh." Garrett puts his face in his hands, rubbing his temples while he groans out loud. "Fuck."
"Garrett?" I place my hand gently on his arm, giving him a soft pat. "You alright there, pal?"
"I'm fine. Just... Really confused and... I don't know. Scared?" He says quietly, his voice wavering ever so slightly.
"Why are you scared? Is something wrong?" I prod carefully, trying to discover what might be troubling him so much.
"I dunno... I just can't shake this... Feeling that something terrible has happened recently. Something... Bad." He explains in a vague manner, glancing around the room nervously before returning to stare blankly at me.
"Okay, screw the hotel. Let's skip right to the hospital." I say, rising quickly to my feet. I'm starting to panic at this point. I'm not entirely sure why, but my heart rate has skyrocketed, and I can't stop sweating. Something is seriously wrong with him if he's acting this way. "Seriously, let's get you checked out ASAP. Come on, man, get up."
"No... No, I'm fine. Don't worry about it." He refuses my assistance and waves me away dismissively. "Really. I'm fine."
"You're obviously not fine!" I exclaim loudly, attracting the attention of the other patrons in the restaurant. A few people glance in our direction briefly, but most ignore us completely. They probably assume that we're just having a small argument between friends, which isn't entirely inaccurate. Still, I don't want anyone else getting involved in this, especially since Garrett seems unstable at the moment.
I grab hold of his upper arm tightly and pull hard. "C'mon, Garret, on your feet!" He stands, albeit wobbly, and stumbles into me clumsily. I wrap my arms around him protectively to help steady him. He leans heavily against me, resting his forehead upon mine. His breathing is ragged and heavy, his body trembling. He sweats beads and it rolls down his skin in large droplets. This is bad. Very, very bad. I've never seen Garrett in such a state before. Hell, I can't remember the last time he had a fever, let alone this extreme of one.
Then I remember what happened just a short while ago and fear seizes my soul. Is he sick from the implant? Did something go wrong during surgery? Could that be why he's acting so strangely? If so, then we need to get him medical attention immediately. No, he doesn't have one of those implants. They haven't been publicly released yet. Then what else could be causing this? Wait, what was that they mentioned about backwards compatibility? Wasn't there a feature for connecting to older versions? Fuck. I'm calling 911.
Before I have time to dial however, Garrett suddenly lets out a loud scream. His hands fly upwards, grasping at his temples, tugging at his hair, and pulling hard. The pain must be unbearable because he starts thrashing wildly, twisting about in my grasp. Shit, this is what happened back at the presentation! But how? Why!? There's no reason for this to be happening now unless there was something seriously wrong with him. What the hell is going on!?
Garrett continues struggling wildly, shouting incomprehensibly. Several nearby diners turn to watch in concern, fear plain upon their faces. Some of them reach for their phones, preparing to call for help. A few stand up and start making their way towards us, seemingly intent on assisting me in restraining him. Others remain seated, frozen in place. Their expressions range from fearful to horrified to confused. Even the servers look frightened. One of them rushes behind the counter, presumably to grab some form of weapon for self defense. I'm not sure whether to be grateful for their assistance or terrified of their intentions.
I tighten my grip on him, trying desperately to calm him down. "Garrett! Snap out of it!" I shout loudly in his ear. He continues thrashing madly, not even acknowledging my presence. "Stop! Calm down!" I yell again. "Please! Stop!" He continues flailing, his movements becoming increasingly erratic. Eventually, I can no longer hold on and I end up being thrown off by him. He tumbles forward onto the floor, landing on his stomach. He immediately springs back up onto his hands and knees, growling furiously. His eyes dart wildly around the room, scanning the surroundings frantically.
What he sees makes his pupils dilate wide as saucers. His jaw hangs slack, his teeth clenched tightly together. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his breath coming fast and shallow. He looks utterly petrified. His hands shake uncontrollably, the tremors spreading throughout his entire body. He glances around the diner wildly before focusing his attention solely upon me. He stares directly into my eyes, his expression changing instantly from sheer terror to utter rage. It's at this point I realize something is seriously wrong with him. This is definitely not the Garrett I know anymore.
"Oh, shit!" I yell out, scrambling backward hastily. I try to get away from him as fast as possible, but I don't get far before he leaps to his feet and lunges towards me. "Fuck!" I shriek, turning around to flee. However, before I can run away, he tackles me to the ground. He pins me to the floor using his weight and strength, holding my arms behind my back painfully. The impact of hitting the ground knocks the wind out of me, causing me to gasp loudly for breath. I struggle against his vice-like hold, trying desperately to free myself.
I kick and squirm as hard as I can, attempting to break free, but it does little to help me escape. His fingers dig into my skin so deeply that I fear they will tear my flesh. Blood flows freely from several fresh wounds across my body, soaking through my clothes and into the tile below. Pain erupts through my entire being as his fingernails pierce into my skin. I scream in agony, my voice echoing throughout the eatery. This causes others around us to move in. But I know I'm done for. Nothing they could do would stop him now.
My vision begins to fade into darkness, my consciousness slipping away slowly. Just as I begin to drift into oblivion, I hear the unmistakable crack of a gunshot ring out from somewhere nearby. The noise reverberates through the air like thunder striking directly overhead. My ears ring loudly, drowning out all other sounds. Every nerve ending in my body tingles in response. I soon feel a warm liquid pouring down upon my head from above. A warm red substance drips down onto my face, staining it crimson. I watch as Garrett's head snaps backwards violently from the impact of the bullet before it collapses downwards. His whole frame slumps limply onto my body, motionless.
There's a moment of silence before reality hits me squarely between the eyes. My mind processes what has transpired as though it is happening in slow motion. I feel the weight of his lifeless form pressing down upon me as time stands still. A single word enters my thoughts: dead. He's gone. He's really dead. It wasn't until now I noticed the absolute horror of the situation. I've just witnessed one of my colleagues die before me. It wasn't a nice death either. He suffered immensely in those final moments of life. How could something like this have happened? Why was he behaving like this? Why did he attack me? I have so many questions running through my head. Too many questions. There are too many unknown factors involved in this scenario for me to piece it all together logically. All I know is that I'm covered in the blood and brain matter of one of my co-workers and that he's lying lifelessly on top of me. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
I snap out of my stunned daze and quickly push his corpse off of me, gasping for air. It takes everything in me to hold back tears as I try to catch my breath. The smell of iron permeates the air around me as his blood continues pouring out onto the tile. The sight sends shivers down my spine. I look up to see that a police officer has fired the shot that killed Garrett, his service pistol drawn, barrel smoking lightly. That answers one question at least. I'm glad someone came to my rescue, although I'm still pretty shaken by everything. Visibly and mentally. I may not have died but it sure feels like part of me did.
The policeman approaches cautiously, his firearm still trained on Garrett. He doesn't appear to be too concerned about whether or not I'm okay, which honestly pisses me off a bit. But considering the circumstances, I'm willing to overlook his rudeness. "Are you alright, sir?" The cop asks with a cold but concerned tone. I nod mutely. He turns his focus toward the body of the man on the ground next to me, taking a closer look. "Do you know who he is?"
"Yes." I reply weakly, my throat and lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. "That's my coworker. Garrett."
"Hmm. Can you tell me what happened?"
"We... uh... we were just at lunch. He started screaming and acting crazy, then attacked me. Something was wrong. He's a good person. Wouldn't hurt a fly. I don't understand... I don't know what happened..." My voice trails off as tears begin flowing freely.
"Calm down. Take deep breaths. It'll be okay. We'll figure this out." The cop says as he tries his best to soothe my emotions. It's clear that he doesn't actually care about how I feel right now though. His attempts to comfort me are half-assed at best. He's simply going through the motions in order to keep me from freaking out further. He's doing this because it's protocol, nothing more.
But he's also correct about one thing: there will be answers. Hopefully, the coroner's office will find out exactly why Garrett suddenly became homicidal and tried to kill me. It would be nice if they discovered how this could happen. I hate to think that this sort of thing could happen again in the future. As much as I enjoy living in a technologically advanced society, there is such a thing as progressing too far too quickly. At least, that's how I see things. I suppose I'll have to wait patiently until then.
I can tell I'm gonna need some serious therapy after this. I doubt I'll be able to sleep soundly for weeks to come. But first, I have to report back to work. My editor will want to know what happened first hand. Although, I'm not so sure they'd appreciate hearing it directly from me either. News doesn't travel well with hysteria attached to it. Might as well rip off the bandage now instead of dragging it out any longer. Shit, Van isn't gonna like this at all.
*
The hotel bar was mostly empty save for the staff and the handful of guests who chose to spend their night drinking alone. The lighting was kept dimmed in order to create a relaxed atmosphere. There was some soft jazz music playing in the background, though it was muffled by the ambient noise. Overall, it seemed like a nice place to have a quiet night in. Which, unfortunately, wasn't possible considering my current mood. I sip from a bottle of hard lemonade, the only alcohol they had I could stomach. I don't drink to get drunk as I prefer taste to the numbing of inhibitions, but sometimes, there are days where the temptation becomes too much. This is one of those days.
I lean back in the barstool and glance up towards the large OLED TV screen mounted above the bar, an older model, tuned into one of the local news channels. Currently, the newscasters are discussing the recent accident involving the implant, though the sound is set to low volume so it's difficult to make out exactly what's being said. The delayed subtitles popping up below aren't helping either. Not that I care really, I'm only half paying attention anyway. My mind keeps wandering back to earlier today and how fucked up things turned out. This whole situation has made me anxious, and I'm starting to feel sick to my stomach. Maybe it's the alcohol? Probably not. It usually takes at least a couple of bottles to get me tipsy. Besides, if I wanted to get drunk quickly, then I would've ordered straight Vodka shots. Instead, I chose something more palatable and less likely to lead me into trouble. I wish I didn't have to think about work constantly, but with this mess going on, I can't help it.
My earpiece chimes softly, signaling an incoming call from a contact. I recognize the name as one of the lead engineers on the project. Not entirely sure why he's calling me, but I sigh heavily and answer, turning away from the screen to block out any distractions.
"Hey, this is Hye-Jin, right?" The man's voice comes across sounding gruff, deep, and raspy. It's somewhat comforting to know there are people willing to help without complaint.
"Yes, that's me. Do you need something?" I ask politely.
The man hesitates slightly before replying, "Sorry for disturbing you on such short notice. It's just... Well, I've been looking over the logs for Kevin's implant, and the good news is I think we've figured out why it malfunctioned."
That perks my attention instantly. "Oh shit, really? What did you discover?"
"Okay so, here's the deal. The implant was functioning perfectly fine during the beta period and the presentation. However, something seemed to happen midway through the presentation that caused the device to become unstable. As of now, we haven't pinpointed what caused this but we did discover the source of the problem."
I sit up straighter on my stool, my curiosity growing rapidly. "Wait a second. Are you saying that someone deliberately tampered with the device?"
The man laughs bitterly. "I wish it were that simple. Unfortunately, the truth is far worse. The truth is that the device itself became infected with a virus. This virus infiltrated the system and took over the functions of the implant, causing it to malfunction. However, there was no known method of transferring the virus directly from Kevin's unit, meaning it had to originate somewhere else. In other words, this whole thing wasn't an accident. Somebody planned this out, and they targeted Kevin specifically."
I cover my mouth, trying to hide the horror on my face, but I was sure that wasn't working. "Shit... So, it wasn't just an unfortunate mistake. Someone purposely sabotaged our prototype! Do you know who they are?"
"No dice. Whoever did it knew what they were doing, otherwise, they would've left behind evidence. Either that, or they managed to hack into the servers without detection."
"How long until we can repair it?" I ask urgently.
"We don't know yet. However, we think it should take several days at minimum."
"Days?! Dammit... Fine, just keep working on it. We need those answers now. Understand?"
"Got it. But there's still something else I need to go by with you. Two of the other beta testers we brought over here to test the devices, are exhibiting signs of similar symptoms." The man's tone turns grim, his voice filled with dread. I close my eyes and take a deep breath to steady myself, trying to stay calm.
"What does that mean exactly? Are they experiencing the same issues?"
"Not necessarily. But their implants appear to have suffered a similar infection."
"In other words, it's contagious." I sigh and lean back in my seat.
"Pretty much, yeah. Basically, anything that comes in direct contact with their units should be quarantined immediately. We also got word from the hospital about Bryan's condition. Apparently, he's already exhibiting signs of psychosis and he doesn't even have the new implant. He's still on sixth gen. We suspect he might have contracted whatever they had due to close proximity or something along those lines."
"That's not good. But why is it affecting him if he didn't receive the latest model?"
"Remember the backwards compatibility of the device? The virus isn't affected by that limitation either. Anything that gets in contact with it can get it as far as we know. And Bryan was there at the event presenting when Kevin broke down. So it's possible that it spread to him indirectly. Most likely, it came from one of the infected unit's owners."
"Jesus, this is getting worse by the minute." I groan, rubbing my temples as I feel another headache forming. "So what should we do about these guys? Lock them up somewhere? Put them in isolation?"
"For now, we have them sedated. We can't risk having them go on rampages either. For now, we're working on resolving the matter internally and as quickly as possible, but in the meantime, we request you inform your people about it and be cautious."
"Right, of course. I'll notify everyone involved about this. Thanks for the heads up." I hang up after ending the call and stare blankly ahead, lost in thought. The situation is dire, and I can't help but feel responsible. How could I allow this to happen? Why did I believe we had this under control? Everything seemed fine during testing, but obviously, I was wrong. How did things turn out like this? Could it have been preventable? I hate this feeling of guilt eating away at me. It feels like I failed somehow. Maybe I shouldn't have pushed so hard for us to test the prototypes in public. Perhaps if we waited a few more weeks, maybe even months, then this wouldn't be happening.
Regardless, I could tell my boss, Jae-Ho, was not gonna take this easy. He'll be pissed. But what am I supposed to do? We had to announce the product launch because if we didn't, we were gonna piss off everyone else investing in the company. No, we couldn't afford that. Besides, how were we supposed to know this would happen?
I mentally get ready to dial him up from my comms, but I'm briefly distracted by a breaking news report flashing across the TV. It seems like some kind of major incident has occurred. It's probably related to the implant as well, but I tune in to see for sure.
"-violent incident took place at a small diner located in downtown San Francisco. According to witnesses, the victim, identified as Garrett Mullen, suffered a sudden mental breakdown which resulted in him attacking his coworker, David Park. An off duty police officer happened to witness the assault and subsequently intervened, resulting in the shooting of Mr. Mullen. Prior to the incident, the two had just attended a press event held at a nearby Convention Center in which a prototype implant from BHT malfunctioned and caused a similar rampage by a beta tester named Kevin Jackson."
Wait a second. What did I just hear? About the press event? They're referring to the one earlier where Kevin went berserk. These two guys, Garrett and David, they were apparently at that event too. But we never had a beta tester named Garrett on the team, so these must've been reporters who happened to attend. And it sounds like this guy, Garrett, started acting insane like Kevin. How strange... Is this really a coincidence? Or could there be a connection? If so, then does that mean...?
There are thoughts that begin to race rapidly through my mind. At first, they start slow but quickly escalate into full blown panic. If that guy was showing similar symptoms as Kevin and the other testers, then what does that mean? That it might be spreading? But how? They weren't standing near Kevin when he broke down. They'd have been sitting in the audience watching from far away, not right next to him. So why? If it isn't from physical contact then what could have triggered this reporter guy to break down as well? Unless it isn't contagious by just being near them. Something happened at that event to cause those men to go crazy, I just know it. And whatever that thing is, it seems like it has spread beyond our own employees and onto bystanders. If it can jump between people then this issue is far worse than we initially thought. That means that anyone could get infected if exposed and the situation could quickly spiral out of control. And that means we might have a full-scale epidemic on our hands. And that would mean I get fired because I'll be blamed for this clusterfuck. And I am not gonna allow myself to get fired.
This David guy, the one who was at the press event and got attacked later on, he's my only lead at the moment. I need to question him as soon as possible. See if he can provide any insight into what occurred. Hopefully, he can give me answers before it's too late. If we don't find out what caused the malfunctions, then we might lose everything we've worked so hard for and I lose this career I spent the last decade and a half building up. No. I won't let that happen. I'm gonna fix this thing, regardless of what it takes.