Testament

Chapter 1

THE TASK

The climate control system hummed, a monotonous pulse echoing the ceaseless activity within the vast, open expanse of Testament X’s analytics division. Josper felt submerged in the sterile white light, the cool, recycled air carrying the faintest metallic tang of machinery. Hundreds of identical cubicles sprawled in meticulous rows, each occupied by figures hunched over a tri-screen setup reminiscent of his own. Data streams danced across Josper’s screens, intricate charts aligning into orderly columns as he updated the logistics projections with a precision born of years of practice. A single misplaced digit could disrupt the delicately balanced flow of resources across the Hub, a ripple effect Testament X could ill afford. Once, this meticulous process held a fascination for him, but as weeks bled into months, a suffocating sense of sameness had begun to creep in.

“Josper, got a minute?” His supervisor, Talisa, leaned against the edge of his cubicle, her sleek dark hair a sharp contrast against the sterile walls. Her eyes always held a hint of amusement that sparked an inexplicable prickle of unease down Josper’s spine, a constant reminder of his own lack of seniority.

“Of course, Talisa.” He straightened, minimizing screens with the practiced speed ingrained from day one. Efficiency was paramount, even for a casual interruption, a principle drilled into him with every performance review. Still, there was no denying the way the monotony fractured at her words.

“Straight to the point then,” she said, handing him a datapad. “Exec summons. Room 214. Ten minutes ago, actually.” A wry smile tugged at her lips. “Don’t they just love keeping us on our toes? Can’t have us getting too comfortable, can they?” Her casual humor felt more pointed than playful, a silent echo of the same restless dissatisfaction that had begun to plague Josper himself.

A jolt of adrenaline pierced the humdrum, the first true break in the day’s steady rhythm. Executive summons weren’t entirely unheard of, but for a low-level analyst like himself, they existed in a realm outside his usual routine. “Thank you,” he managed, forcing his voice into a semblance of steadiness despite the pulse-quickening beneath his carefully pressed uniform.

He turned, prepared to make the brisk walk towards the elevators that would carry him to the upper levels of Testament X’s towering headquarters when Talisa’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Hold on a second, Josper.”

He paused, turning back to see her expression shift, amusement replaced by a frown. “You can’t go up there dressed like that.”

A flicker of confusion must have crossed his face because she elaborated, “Exec summons are one thing, but 2–1–4? That’s Dawn’s office…” Her voice trailed off, carrying unspoken implications. Mathias Dawn, Testament X’s enigmatic CEO, was revered throughout the Hub. His vision, his ambition, were whispered about with a mixture of awe and just a touch of apprehension.

“You need to change,” Talisa said with an air of finality. “Your formal attire — the grey tunic. Find something with a collar, for Maker’s sake. Look the part, Josper. This could be…” she paused, searching for the right word, “…important.”

The sudden emphasis on attire sent a ripple of unease through him. “What kind of task would require a meeting with Dawn himself?” He’d only seen the imposing figure of Testament X’s CEO from afar — during company-wide addresses, his image projected on massive screens, or the rare occasion when he graced the lower levels with his presence. Those fleeting glimpses fueled the stories, the legends that surrounded the man.

“I’ll…I’ll be right back,” Josper stammered, a blush creeping up his neck at the unexpected delay.

He hurried back to his cubicle, a knot forming in his stomach. This wasn’t just a task anymore, it was an audience. His fingers fumbled as he bypassed the usual attire, opting for the crisp grey tunic reserved for those infrequent presentations or client meetings. It felt overly formal, the collar stiff against his skin, but Talisa’s words echoed in his mind — look the part. This could be important.

Important, or perhaps the opposite. A flicker of doubt pricked at him. The rumors, the hushed whispers about supply shortages, the unease that lingered just beneath the surface of their seemingly perfect world… what if those whispers held truth? What if this wasn’t a promotion, but an inquisition?

His heart hammered against his ribs as he returned to Talisa, who offered a small nod of approval. His heart thudded against his ribs as he returned to Talisa, her nod of approval doing little to soothe his nerves. Each step towards the elevator felt weighted, a prelude to an unknown judgment. The sleek metal doors slid shut, sealing him into a space far too confined for his racing thoughts. With each soft whoosh, the floor numbers on the display changed, a cruel countdown to a confrontation he couldn’t fully decipher. Was this an opportunity or something far more ominous? The knot in his stomach twisted tighter, fueled by a mix of excitement and a dread he’d never before experienced within these familiar corporate halls. He blinked, trying to focus on the rhythmic hum of the elevator instead of the frantic pulse in his ears.

The doors slid open, revealing a scene in stark contrast to the ordered calm of the lower levels. Floor 214 was a whirlwind of activity. Sleekly dressed aides crisscrossed the polished marble, datapads clutched in their hands. Each bore a different corporate insignia: the bold sunburst of Apollo Corp, the sleek interlocking rings of Ultran Dynamics, even the stylized helix of Tremis — a rival corporation Josper rarely interacted with. Dignitaries in tailored suits — their attire subtly showcasing their corporate affiliation — huddled in intense conversations, punctuated by sharp bursts of laughter and the occasional frown. The air practically thrummed with an energy that was both thrilling and unnerving.

As he stepped out, a pair of armed security personnel in crisp, charcoal uniforms flanked the corridor. “Credentials, please,” one of them requested, her tone clipped and professional. Josper fumbled slightly, suddenly aware of how out of place he must look among the movers and shakers of the Hubs. He produced his datapad, the familiar Testament X logo flashing on the screen as it was scanned. A brief nod and he was waved through, a sense of unease mingling with the rush of adrenaline.

For the first time, those gnawing whispers of unrest, of something shifting within the balance of the Hub, felt uncomfortably real. He spotted a cluster of Pulsar5 executives, their uniforms a stark obsidian, engaged in what appeared to be a heated negotiation. That familiar knot of anxiety tightened, followed by a wave of defiance. Why on earth would Dawn, of all people, summon him amidst this?

A flicker of relief washed over him. This was likely just another request, another task requiring his specific analytic skills — demographic projections, perhaps logistics optimization across several Hubs. The sort of complex, multi-corporate data only someone in his position would be trusted to compile. He could handle this. With renewed determination, he straightened his tunic, taking his first confident strides deeper into this unfamiliar realm, a world far larger than he’d ever imagined.