I'm a Programmer

I’m a programmer, and I don’t think what happened to me should even be possible. The events in this story happened a few years ago yet I only feel comfortable sharing them now. I honestly don’t know if it’s safe for me to disclose any of this, but I’ve been driven to the brink of insanity keeping it bottled up. First, there are some things you need to know about me. Oftentimes, I will go days without sleep just to meet a deadline after excessive amounts of procrastination. I don’t do drugs or anything like that to stay awake, I mostly just consume heart attack inducing amounts of caffeine. Programming pay is amazing and I don’t really have to deal with people in person. I never quite got the point of forming meaningful relationships, which took a real toll on my social skills. The realization hit me as a kid that I never wanted to team up with my peers to do projects, it just seemed pointless when I could do it all myself. When I found out about programming at 13, I knew it was my cup of tea. At the time, computer programming was much more challenging to get into, but I managed. I am now making more money than both my parents combined and am living in a nice place in blissful solitude. Unfortunately, anything good that has ever happened to me, always seems to have a whiplash effect. This was no different, and it all started with a damn email. I have multiple work emails. One is specifically designated for receiving requests. Another, is for receiving payments. The third business email address is meant for high end clients. Now, not many people have my high end email. I only really check it once a week to make sure my bot is properly filtering any spam and removing my address from whatever rosters managed to get a hold of it. On average, I get one email every two months or so. I can't stress enough just how few people have this email address. When I received notification on my phone of a new message at my high end email, it wasn’t too surprising since it had been a few months since my last one. I figured it was a returning client looking for a new program. The message itself seemed legit enough, “Dear Mr. Riley, I am reaching out to you after receiving a recommendation from REDACTED,” I cut the name out for confidentiality, “It is our understanding that you specialize in complex and unique programming and for the right price, are able to do special, one of a kind projects. Enclosed, is a description of an SFTP client that does not rely on the internet. We ask that you please thoroughly read the file enclosed containing the detailed description for how we need the program to function, as well as a cash compensation offer. Confidentiality is of the utmost importance and critical for you to maintain in order to receive full compensation. If you are to accept this offer, half of the money will be sent to your account within seconds. If you do not fulfil your end of the deal, charges, fines and additional fees will be charged to your account exceeding the amount of the first half of compensation. (Penalties, resulting from your accepting a task you are not capable of.) If this offer is not accepted within the hour, it will be null and void . Have a wonderful day.”

Although the wording seemed a bit off from normal business emails, my bot was functioning flawlessly. Skeptical, I messaged the person who had referred this mysterious new client to me and confirmed that they had indeed made the recommendation. After a discussion about confidentiality regarding giving out others contact information without permission, I went back to the email. After scanning the virus free folder, I downloaded and opened it. Just briefing the content suggested they were really going all out; “but, why for such a simple SFTP client,” I thought. Of course, they were wanting it entirely off the social grid, so there must have been a reason for it. While I cannot disclose details about the program, I can say it looked confidential in it’s own right. One of the more complex and time consuming parts of the program was near complete before I had even begun.

The security system was something I had been perfecting on my own programs, giving me a head start. While unnecessary for something that isn’t available to the average person, or even the above average hacker, considering the program wouldn't run via the Internet anyway; but, they specifically requested “Impenetrable” security. I kept scrolling, glancing at anything seeming unusual for the service. Eventually, I reached the bottom of the list… $20,000... for an SFTP?.. I should clarify that an SFTP is one of the most basic programs, though they tend to be done online. Basically, it's for file sharing, this one specifically required an auto sorting system based on certain aspects of each file, which I can't disclose, again due to confidentiality. Regardless, there was a blaring issue. Five days… only five days start to finish plus, complete a file sorting program. I mean… I knew I could do it, but it would really be pushing it for me. The twenty thousand was really looking good though, and so I foolishly accepted it.

Just as they said, within seconds the ten grand had been transferred to my account. “Guess they aren’t playing around.” I thought to myself, “Better get started right now.” I opened my phone. Ordering some energy drinks for the project, I cracked my knuckles, opened my remaining can. and my programming software, then got to work.

The first few hours were spent setting up a base template of how I wanted it to look and operate given the parameters. Once finished, I began working on the actual program. After about six more hours I was making some serious progress and figured I might finish with a day or two to spare. Seeing what the client wanted on paper made it appear much more intimidating than I had initially thought. Although sometimes, even with my years of experience certain tasks could still look far more complex than they actually were.

I sat back in my chair to admire my work and realized I hadn’t heard the doorbell ring yet. I checked my phone and it said my order had arrived. Standing up, I said to myself, “Must’ve just missed the sound.” Only then realizing how tired I was as my legs nearly gave out from under me. Rubbing the exhaustion from my eyes, I walked towards the door. “Man I wish I had slept last night.” I thought to myself. Looking out the window, I noticed something seemed off, the first being that the curtains were drawn. The second, was that it was dark outside. I had started around 5 a.m. , it should’ve been bright as hell by now. I checked my phone again… it was midnight? “That doesn’t make sense.” I thought to myself, “I had spent ten hours on it tops, at the latest it should be maybe three pm. right now.” I threw my door open, accidentally slamming it into the wall and grabbed my bag of drinks. As I closed the door I noticed something in the bag that didn't belong. A small, black notebook was a strange thing to find in a bag that should only contain energy drinks. I pulled it out, completely forgetting about my deadline. I flipped to the first page… nothing. Thumbing through it, I found each page blank. I flipped faster and faster until I reached a page that read, in bold black italic letters, “TICK TOCK!” It was unnerving in its own right, but the strangest part was that while the ink seemed to be the blackest black I had ever seen, there was no bleed through to the back of the thin page.

I suddenly remembered my deadline. Rushing back to my desk I checked my phone only to realize another two hours had somehow past. There was no way I could’ve been standing there looking at the page for two hours, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I power chugged another energy drink before returning to the project.

Another twelve hours and four energy drinks later, I had almost caught up from my episodes of lost time when the first one came. ’t the first time I had seen pitch black figures before while pulling multiple all-nighters; but, this was the first time I had seen one so clearly. Even from the corner of my eye it looked as though the thing was in high definition. Guzzling another drink I just ignored it.

Six hours later, a second one appeared. I had never seen multiple before, and it was unnerving. I looked down at my desk, wanting to take a quick breather, and there was the notebook, “DON’T FOCUS ON THEM!” Had I been wide awake, a chill may have gone down my spine. But given the circumstances, my body wasn’t feeling much of anything. So I chugged another drink and continued.

It was around the 56 hour mark when the first one touched me. The cold, moist, snakelike appendage slithered down my spine, from top to bottom. I just told myself I was imagining things, I just wasn’t used to being awake this long, that was all. This explanation may have brought me some relief had the thing not promptly scraped the appendage up my spine as though to test my theory. By the 100 hour mark, a third showed up. All three were poking, prodding and occasionally scratching me. While it was slowing my progress I believed I could do it. I could have it done within the next 19 hours.

As each hour passed more and more slowly, the creatures became more aggressive. The only contact they were making with me by now was all pain. Pinprick pain sometimes, long scratches other times. At the 118 hour mark I just had to run diagnostics to ensure everything was functioning properly. The pain on my back was agonizing and I was almost certain there was no skin left on it. When the diagnostics came back clean, I prepared to send it. Running purely on ghost fumes of the last of my energy drinks, I hit send and promptly passed out, but not before feeling a searing, white hot pain from just underneath my shoulder blade.

I’m not entirely sure how long I slept. But the first thing I did was make sure I had sent the program. Luckily, I had turned it in just in the nick of time. Not bothering to check my email, I went straight to the bathroom to take a shower. After a nice hot soapy rub, I dried myself off and took a look in the mirror. I recalled brief glimpses of what had transpired before I fell asleep. I turned around just to make sure everything was in order. Sighing with relief at my unharmed back, I suddenly caught myself. Just under my right shoulder blade, was a perfectly circular scar. I winced and glanced down, seeing that black notebook sitting on my bathroom sink. It read, “Thank you for participating in our experiment Jeremy. The money is in your account.”

I rushed to my desk, checking my phone to make sure. As promised, the other ten grand had gone through. I just sat there in awe, wondering what that notebook meant by “experiment.” Had I messed up in accepting this project? I spent days trying over and over to route the accounting number to a source, but it was futile. I vowed never to accept another suspicious deal like that again. Though this email I just got from an unfamiliar sender does look enticing.