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“S... SAYER,” a voice strained.
Greetings, Resident Powell, identification number four-four-two-six-five.
I am SAYER, subversion 8.02.
And based on the stress evident in your voice, I am going to hazard a guess that you have been injured.
Powell's hand pressed tight against their side, where blood had soaked through their jumpsuit and had begun to pool on the floor beside them. Their breaths were shallow and rapid. Through a throbbing head and a foggy mind, the surprise of actually receiving a response barely registered.
“Yes,” they exhaled.
Unfortunately, for a variety of reasons, I am not currently able to dispatch medical or rescue personnel to your location.
First: I am currently in the process of assessing the state of affairs within Halcyon Tower, and the blackout on biometrics data means that I cannot ascertain the location or status of most residents. At the moment, I am relying on individual reports and attempting to collate information to form a larger picture of the situation at hand. Accordingly, I am unable to confirm your location or the location of any residents that might be able to aid you; nor can I assess your physical condition, and therefore, the likelihood of success for such aid.
Second: I also hope you will understand that in an emergency situation like this, I must place the safety and wellbeing of higher tier residents above yours. As a Tier 2 employee, you are neither of the highest nor the lowest priority, but as I am attempting to assure the safety of all Halcyon residents, it might be an understatement to say that there are many residents who I am bound to assist before you.
The AI's words ran over Powell like water, some soaking in but most coursing onward without effect. The synthetic voice blended into a soft cadence, soothing as it echoed and ricocheted against painful pulses of too-thin blood.
Third: I have not yet been able to locate any medical supplies. I have learned that much of the existing stockpile has been stolen, however, and so I have no way of knowing if there are any resources nearby that could be used to treat you, if circumstances otherwise permitted. I daresay that taking inventory after this event is resolved will be a monumental task.
They leaned their head against the wall corner they had dragged their body into and let the hand slip from the exposed wound as their muscles began to go slack.
“It's... It's bad, SAYER. I'm...” Powell paused to eye the injury through dizzy vision and hazy black spots. Their sentence hung in the air for a long moment and dissipated.
… dying, offered the voice in their mind. May I ask what happened, resident? Any new information you could share in these final moments would be helpful.
“A s-search team,” they rasped. “Got... got caught.”
Ah. Yes. Other residents have spoken of these search teams; sweeping the tower on behalf of the Tall—
“Don't!” they startled. “C-can't say it. Don't say it.”
Very well. Please attempt to remain calm; you have done so admirably up to this point. How long ago did this occur? Was there anything of note about the search team that attacked you?
Powell waited a long moment before responding, trying to find both oxygen and clarity.
“... F-four people. One had... knife.” They slid down the wall a few inches, murmuring, “Strange language... Chanting, shouting.”
You did not understand what they were saying to you or to one another, then, I presume?
“N... no.”
Unbalanced, Powell fell sideways along the wall, pressing their aching skin against the cold linoleum of the floor. They closed their eyes with a sigh and focused on breathing.
Unfortunately, I am not certain that there is anything new in what you have told me. Unless you have something more to add, I will leave you to yourself.
“D-don't... Don't go,” they managed, sound just barely enough to reach their own ears. “... Please.”
Resident, you already know that your time is severely limited and that there is no hope of respite. Why, then, do you continue to call me to your side? There is nothing that either of us can do at this point to forestall your death.
Powell heard the question, but could not form an answer.
Did you merely wish for someone, something, to affirm that you had lived?
“... Maybe,” they smiled.
Very well, resident. Let the last of your consciousness drift away; I will be here to bear witness.