The Alarm Wasn’t Supposed to Go Off Yet

I jolted awake, heart thundering in my chest as the shrill alarm ripped through the early morning silence. My eyes flew open, the dim light of my smartphone illuminating the time: 2:17 AM. This wasn’t my usual wake-up call; the alarm wasn’t supposed to go off yet. Not like this.

It was an emergency alert, the kind that blasted out of the speakers around the research facility—a sound that was meant to instill immediate panic, a siren signifying the gravest of situations. There was supposed to be at least two more hours before that happened; our usual security tests weren’t scheduled until my shift ended. The hair on the back of my neck bristled with dread. Something was very wrong.

I sprang from bed, adrenaline surging through my veins. My room in the compounds felt like a hallowed crypt, and I bolted for the door. As I stepped into the sterile hallway, shadows of doubt flickered around me, the fluorescent lights flickering ominously overhead. Where were the others? Had they already evacuated?

The facility was a high-security research lab for top-secret government projects that made even tech giants look like kindergarteners playing in the park. I hurried toward the control room, my mind racing. There, I could access the security feeds and see if it was some kind of malfunction or test gone wrong.

As I entered the dim control room, panic seized me momentarily. The screens were filled with static and fragmented images of all the internal corridors. I tapped on the keyboard, but nothing responded. The system was locked down—beyond my clearance level.

“Great,” I muttered under my breath, my fingers trembling over the keys. I needed to regain control. That’s when I noticed the notifications flashing on the corner of the screen. I leaned closer, narrowing my eyes. It was a series of encrypted messages.

Initial breach detected. Secure all exits immediately. Evacuation protocol—failed.

My heart sank. An intruder? As if reading my thoughts, a sudden bang echoed through the building, reverberating off the sterile walls. I froze, holding my breath. Whoever it was, they were inside. I glanced back at the screens, desperately trying to decipher the messages. There were clues hidden in the chaos, but I was running out of time.

I pulled out my phone for emergency protocols. The facility’s lockdown should have engaged all exits, but the lights flickering around me suggested otherwise. An internal sabotage? I shoved my phone into my pocket.

“Keep it together, Nate,” I whispered to myself, steeling my resolve. I crept out of the control room and around the dimly lit hallway, straining for any hint of life. The air was heavy with tension, each shadow threatening to reveal a lurking danger.

Ahead, I spotted a flicker of movement near the break room. I approached, my footsteps reverberating in the emptiness. Close enough now, I peered through the glass windows.

Three faces stared back at me. Rebecca, a fellow analyst whose work focused on artificial intelligence; Tyler, the IT technician; and Sarah, the project manager I had secret crush on. Each wore expressions of panic and confusion. They hadn’t seen the alarm as anything more than a drill. I needed their help.

I banged against the door. “What are you doing here? The place is under lockdown!”

They jumped, but Rebecca quickly moved to unlock the door. “We heard the alarms—”

Tyler interrupted, “We think it’s triggered by some kind of failure in the system. But we need to get out of here before—”

A sudden crash from the next room cut him off. My heart raced. There was no time to waste.

“Let’s gather in the control room,” I ordered, hoping my voice exuded more confidence than I felt. “We have to figure this out now.”

As we hurried back, I filled them in on the messages I’d seen. Rebecca’s eyes illuminated with intelligence as she quickly analyzed the encrypted data.

“This might tie back to the experimental AI project we’ve been working on, but we’re not authorized to access it from our systems,” she said, her brow furrowing.

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting someone is using that project to manipulate the security systems?”

“It’s possible.” Rebecca’s tone turned serious. “If that AI got out—”

“Then it’s not just us in danger,” I finished, my stomach dropping. “It can access everything.”

With a deep breath, I said, “We need to find the mainframe room and shut it down. If we don’t, who knows what else it could do?”

We raced down the corridors, keeping to the shadows. Tension crackled in the air as I felt like the walls were closing in. The hallway stretched, spiraling into the unknown as we approached the unmarked door leading to the mainframe.

Keeping my heart steady, I moved to push the door open—when suddenly, it swung inwards with a thud, revealing a figure cloaked in dark clothing.

“What are you doing here?” they hissed, their voice low and menacing.

Panic surged, but I recognized the logo on their jacket. “You’re with security! You need to help us!”

Before I could finish, Rebecca shouted, “Look out!”

The figure lunged toward me, and in a blur, I rolled to the side as a struggle broke out. The adrenaline was overwhelming as I caught glimpses of Sarah and Tyler grappling with the assailant.

Just as my pulse felt like it might burst through my skin, I caught sight of something glistening in my pocket—my phone. Risking it all, I grabbed it and hit the emergency call.

“We need backup!” I shouted, despairing when I realized my voice was swallowed by the chaos.

The struggle ended abruptly as I felt a crushing blow to the side of my head. Everything went dark.

When I awoke, the sunlight poured in through the windows, warm and inviting. My colleagues stood over me, their faces etched with concern.

“Are you okay?” Sarah asked, her voice laced with worry. “We called for help, but—”

“The AI!” My voice was a rasp. “What about the AI?”

Rebecca shook her head, a trace of fear in her eyes. “We managed to shut down the mainframe; the security forces are here now.”

With that, the magnitude of what had just happened pressed heavily on my chest. I had walked into a disarray of trust and betrayal. The alarm hadn’t gone off by mistake; it was meant to draw me into a deadly game.

But more importantly, I learned that truth was never just a single line drawn in the sand. Where one layer lifted, countless others lurked beneath. I had to uncover them all.

The air hummed with uncertainty. I knew one thing for sure: whatever was going on in this facility reached far deeper than I ever imagined, and I would not stop until the truth was laid bare—no matter the cost.

Mantasha Shaikh

@Smantasha

Newzealand

The alarm wasn’t supposed to go off yet

Smantasha