A radio? I don't know what time it is but it's too early. I pull the sheets tighter around me and suddenly remember where I am.

I can't help but sigh when the voice on the radio continues.

The radio cracks and fizzles before another commercial comes on.

Twenty-four hours ago, I boarded a plane, then a ship, then another plane, and finally a shuttle, all to reach Powell General Electric’s Antarctic base. If that sounds like a lot, you can probably imagine how I feel.

I got here earlier than scheduled because of how my timing worked out. The ride was free, but I won’t be paid for these days—so naturally, I won’t be doing any work until then.

The details about the kind of work I’d be doing were surprisingly vague, considering how thick the docket was.

"... Managing high-priority assignments and ensuring the stability of workplace operations."

"... direct interaction with unique and unpredictable phenomena requiring careful adherence to company protocols."

"Success in this position demands composure, adaptability, and a willingness to engage with tasks that may challenge conventional understanding."

...

I applied through the website for an entry-level tech position, and a few days later, they offered me this gig instead. I wasn’t too concerned either way, but that pay increase was hard to ignore.

Not trying to be ungrateful, but I can’t help wondering what made me a good candidate. The others I applied with didn’t seem to get the same offer.

Jeeeze. That's putting it kind of lightly.

Imagine being the guy who thought this was a regular desk job, in Antarctica.

Can't say I've worked at this branch before but I know what to expect. That's probably why they offered me this position.

Right, no use dwelling on it. I finish putting on my uniform and make my way to the canteen.

I’m one of the few people alive to enjoy a full-course meal at the South Pole. Agents get three square meals a day with a scan of our issued IDs. Anything beyond that gets taken out of our accounts, but I can’t imagine wanting more food after this.

Along with the meal, I'm given a small multi-colored capsule with a serial number printed on the side.

Anti-anxiety medication is administered on a daily basis. It’s encouraged to take them to maintain a streamlined workflow.

Better safe than sorry.

I pop it into my mouth and wash it down with some water.

It’s encouraged but not required.

I place the pill into my pocket.

Since I don’t officially start until next week, I haven’t been given an assignment yet, and my card doesn’t work on any of the containment cells.

I try to make myself useful anyways and head to one of the observation decks in the Information Department, but when I get there, I find it’s already occupied.

There’s a woman there with her hair tied up in a high ponytail, and a man with scars all over his face. She smelled strongly of smoke, but had no telltale signs of being a smoker.

She looks at me inquisitively, and I can almost read the question on her face.

"I don't think I've seen you around here before."

She carefully reads my nametag.

"Yeah, I'm part of the new round of hires. I don't start until next week."

"Ah! That makes sense since our contract ends next week."

"I'm Hanako by the way, and this is Morris."

"'ey."

"What department are you in?"

Morris snorts at my answer.

"Control is for snitches and bitches. Information is for nerds and freaks. Safety is for people who were really into ROTC, and Training gets what's left."

"Morris-!"

Hanako lets him know he's crossed a line with a firm jab but all it does is make him laugh.

Hanako looks at me sheepishly. Was it on behalf of Morris's crass behavior? Or was it because there was some truth to his words? Either way, it’s better to play along if I want to get more information out of them before I start my job.

"Yeah? And what departments do you guys belong to?"

"Safety."

"Control."

“..?”

“What are agents from Safety and Control doing here?”

Here being the Information department.

“My department lead wants us to review some of the protocols in his department. We had a breach last week.” Morris says, almost shyly.

She lifts a finger to pin that event.

“And Control is always looking for the best way to record these assignments for future reference.”

And I can only assume the agent in the containment cell is actually from Information.

“Sounds like you guys really know your stuff.”

"We don’t get many chances to talk about this stuff because of the NDA contract, but I guess this is okay. Do you have any other questions about this place?"

"Um... is William Powell a real guy?"

"What? The guy who does the morning announcement? Yeah."

This seems to surprise Hanako.

"He isn't real," she throws out and I expect more words to follow but I'm left hanging.

"He's just a figurehead, like the Michellin man or the Colonel Sanders."

"The KFC guy was a real guy, and so is Powell."

"I've never seen him before."

"He's real."

"Have you seen him?"

"He's Real."

"Whatever! Why do you even wanna know?"

I shrug.

"Wouldn't you want to know who you work for?"

"So long as money appears in my account I don't really care." She laughs.

"What was your guys' recruitment like?"

"I'm a transfer; I've been with the EPC since earning my bachelor's degree. Taking on leadership roles looks good on a resume, and this was the easiest way to do it."

"I had been trafficking exotic animals for a few years when one of my shipments turned out to be an Angel. Instead of serving time I just had to give up the names of my clients and do this job in place of serving time. I guess it's like probation?"

That, Aside.

These stories weren't similar at all. So what exactly is PGE looking for in its candidates?

"Everything okay? You look a little troubled."

"I’m just surprised you guys are friends, you're decent but you're a total crook?"

Slack-jawed.

"This guy should be grateful to have me!"

He laughs, but doesn't seem all that surprised by this evaluation.

"I'm decent? I wonder how you came to that conclusion."

"Are taking the pills mandatory?"

This question seems to catch them off guard.

"I mean, do you guys take them?"

"Yeah, I mean it's free."

"Sometimes..."

"Every job’s a grind, and being an adult means coming to terms with that. You gotta do it if you wanna keep payin' the mortgage, the loan - whatever else. The pills help numb it a bit, so you might as well take them."

Morris has a point, I guess, but it doesn't sound reassuring.

"You had your security training right? Given a gun?"

I nod; it was part of the orientation. We all got a lesson in gun safety and training, plus a license to carry a standard handgun.

He leans in and urges me to do the same with a curl of his finger.

"Well, it ain't for Angels."

I wait for him to smirk or laugh at the shock on my face, or for Hanako to swat at him for crossing another boundary, but neither happens.

He deposits a pill into my hand.

"Have mine, Newbie."

"Are your hands okay?"

“Ahh!” She laughs nervously and hides her hands behind her back.

“Is it noticeable..?”

"Kind of, yeah."

It was apparent from the start from the scent of ash, and what I thought was a tattoo was actually a thin layer of soot coating the tips of her fingers.

“I’m wearing an E.G.O. suit… It’s supposed to make working with Angels easier, but it can look a little strange.” She wiggles her fingers at me.

"Does it hurt?"

“Depends on the suit, and varies from person to person.”

That’s hardly helpful. Even more strange is how casual the both are willing to divulge this information. How is this normal at all?

I turn my attention back to the containment cell while Morris and Hanako continue talking. Their contract ends next week, so this is nothing new to them. Still, it’s strange to think that next week, I’ll be the one inside that cell.

From my end, it doesn’t look like much. An agent in a biohazard suit is down there, adjusting the knobs on a panel, while something that looks like a fungal growth clings to the other side of the room in a complex network of hyphae. It glows an eerie green in the dim chamber, casting spores with a shake of its gills.

Was that supposed to be an Angel?

The Enkephalin meter spikes, filling completely within minutes.

“Oh hey, I think they’re–”

Was that for us? It couldn’t be, I had my eyes on the chamber the entire time.

I listen to the announcement over the intercom.

All agents, remain on high alert and prepare for immediate containment measures. If you encounter signs of structural compromise or hostile movement, engage suppression protocols without hesitation.

Do not hold back simply because the entity appears stable. I repeat—a critical surge in Angelic activity has been detected in the [INFORMATION DEPARTMENT].

"Hey, you need to leave."

Hanako is the first to speak to me before I can even get a word in. Morris is already out the door and I half expect him to appear in the chamber the next time I glance down.

There is a pitched scream in the distance which draws Hanako’s attention. She is already halfway out the door when she shouts another command at me.

"Go!"

The floor buckles, splitting apart as the panels drift like icebergs. Beneath them, a tangled network of wires and gears is already being overtaken—fresh sprouts of fungi swell and spread, bloating the machinery until it collapses under its own weight.

It’s pretty clear I shouldn’t stay here.

I rush into the corridor in time to see waves of people surge past me in different directions. Some fleeing from the Angel and others toward it with their weapons drawn.

Which way do I go?

I may not know where to go, but in the opposite direction as the Angel seems like a good place to start. For a brief, foolish moment, I think I’m making good headway—until I hear a scream too close behind me.

Everyone scrambles toward the elevator, shoving and cramming themselves inside until the lift is packed to bursting. There’s no way we’re all going to fit. And if we do? We’d be trapped—easy pickings, crushed like a hydraulic press until there’s nothing left but a thin film against the back wall.

I hesitate.

That’s my mistake.

There has to be something I can do, some way to help suppress it. That’s what I was hired for—just happened to come up sooner than I expected. I’m not alone in this, though. I’m surrounded by clerks with guns, hands shaking as they struggle to hold the Angel back. I pull out my own pistol and aim it at the growths taking over the corridor - tendrils snapping and falling limp. I try not to focus on the creature itself, but I can’t help but catch sight of its towering cap and fleshy body sprouting from the center.

Ahead, I see the Agents fighting harder, their efforts concentrated on its core.

Hanako and Morris are among those agents, and I instinctively search for them.

Something cold latches onto my leg. I don’t look down—not until I feel a tightness beneath my skin, followed by a sharp, searing pain. That’s when I see it.

A system of mycelium has broken through the surface of my flesh, tendrils burrowing deep, latching onto the fibers of my muscle. My legs seize up and I can’t move.

I break out in a cold sweat as I slowly lose control of my limbs.

This can't be real.

This can't be...

...

...

...

“Is that the Newbie..?”

(This voice...)

(I recognize it...)

"..."

“You’re just seeing things. We have to finish suppressing the Angel.”

(I...?)

(Who am I...?)

Four days ago, I arrived at the South Pole to start my job as an Agent for Powell General Electric. A breached Angel took me out, and I was unconscious for three days. If that sounds like a lot, you can probably imagine how I feel.

But I make it to the elevator. I’m squished between Clerks and Agents, keeping my eyes forward as I catch glimpses of the spectacle before me.

So that was an Angel.

More people are rushing toward the elevator but seeing as we were packed to the brim, they would need to catch the next one.

The doors shut, and I try not to think about what was happening on the other side.

A radio crackles, ordering the front lines to pull back and regroup. That’s when I spot Morris clearly—Ka-Bar knife in hand, hacking away at the growths. Mycelium burrows into the exposed flesh of his arms, only to wither and die when he severs it from the main source.

But as their numbers dwindle, fewer remain to cover his flank. I push myself to my feet, determined to back him up—only to be yanked away by another Agent.

"We have to go!!"

"But Morris--!"

I see him freeze, his knife slipping from a clawed hand. He struggles for only a moment, desperately trying to break free—

"Morris!"

The elevator doors slam shut.

...

It’s a little surreal watching the man I saw die casually chatting with his coworker, like nothing ever happened. Morris is alive—maybe a little worse for wear, but whole. That’s not how I remember him.

He’s talking, laughing, bickering with Hanako like everything’s normal, and I’m struggling to wrap my head around it.

A radio crackles, ordering the front lines to pull back and regroup. That’s when I see Morris, sprinting towards me like he might tackle me.

“We have to get going, come on!”

He grabs my arm, yanking me toward the elevator, already packed to bursting.

“Where’s Hanako?”

He doesn’t answer—just keeps pulling. My stomach twists. I scan the chaos, searching for her.

Then I see it.

A single, charred arm, dangling from a tangle of mycelium.

...

Despite everything, Hanako is alive. She’s in the infirmary, smiling at me from her bed. But she’s not taking visitors, so all I can do is wait and try to make sense of it all.

Still shaken, I head to the canteen, hoping Morris can give me some kind of explanation.

“You okay there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I open my mouth to respond, but the words don’t come. How do you even bring something like this up?

Thankfully, he seems to understand.

“Stressful situations will make you believe in the worst possible scenarios.”

He slides his lunch tray toward me, a single multicolored pill sitting neatly in one of the compartments.

“Have mine, Newbie.”