Ville closed the door to his apartment. Home at last. His space was left exactly as he liked, refreshingly cold and dark. He leaned against the door for a moment before proceeding to his room. Sauna, shower, eat. That was the plan. Unfortunately, as he executed his plan, he couldn't help but reflect on the drudgery of work. It was only Tuesday and the week was going peculiarly poorly. He hoped his luck would revert to its standard mundanity.

His employer, Kari Karamelli (often shortened to Kari, the late founders' surname), was a candy manufacturer. It had a long and vibrant history dating back to 1960s South Ostrobothnia. It at first was not well known even within Finland, with only one local store producing hand made caramel. But, their products were tasty enough that business grew and the founding family was able to expand and purchase a factory. They branched out from caramel to produce a wide variety of treats and shortly after that, Kari Karamelli became a national name. Now, it was steadily becoming a world name.

One would be surprised at the level of subterfuge, intrigue, and backstabbing in the confectionery business. Disgruntled chemists may leak patented formulas, rival companies may try to send spies on factory tours, desperate enemies like ecoterrorists may try to vandalize properties, and compounding it all was the usual noise of random bad actors wanting to steal customer payment information.

In the factory where Ville worked, security was doubly paramount because it hid laboratories where chemists concocted Kari's next supernormal substances, and it was a factory outlet, open to the public. Cameras were everywhere: in the storefront, the fluorescent corridors, the production floor, even the break room. It was, in Ville's opinion, a disaster waiting to happen. The building should have housed either a laboratory or an outlet, not both. So, Ville, disallowed to work from home, operated as one of Kari's best cybersecurity engineers. He managed employee's badges and credentials and tested the integrity of the company's staff and computer systems.

Most of his days were filled with paperwork. Monitoring the movements of employees from the production floor up to another department, inductions of new employees into the system and removals of those who left, records of how many fools in this or that department had failed the phishing probes he sent out via email. Sometimes he got to run a DDoS attack on their systems, sometimes he planned other types of cyberattacks. At intervals, he reviewed the company's current security practices. Rarely, he was called upon to fix hardware. Such is the bittersweet curse of talent and ability.

The majority of his weeks were blissfully uneventful. This week was an anomaly. On Monday, yesterday, some imbecile thought it a great idea to suggest purchasing new computer monitors with USB ports in them. Ville discovered this and immediately advised against it. He had to argue unreasonably hard. It was obvious to him why this was a bad idea; no one else guessed that an attacker could easily distract the associates in the front lobby and plug a malicious drive into the accessible port.

While Monday's business was certainly frustrating, the worst event so far had happened today. For some unexpected reason, no other technician was available when a CCTV camera broke in the storefront. Other, typically reliable, engineers were called upon first before Ville, yet the curse of talent and ability had named him. He was the unhappy soul who had to go stand on a ladder, in full, conspicuous and attention grabbing view of customers, under obscenely bright lights meant to make the candy look shinier, and stretch for the camera in the corner while his tucked in button-up shirt threatened to come untucked and ruin his professionalism. The ordeal reopened Ville's height insecurities. He felt he had to stretch annoyingly far to reach the camera, impacting the speed with which he completed the repair. Fortunately, the issue was something trivial.

Hours after the distress, one of the people in marketing or sales or some other bullshit position had the nerve to pull him aside and tell him that he had "scared the customers with his scowl." Because Ville's humanity was not allowed at Kari Karamelli. Heaven forbid he even think of having a bad day.

Ville was still bothered by that comment now. He supposed it was due to his cloudy reputation among most of his coworkers and decisively rejected it. Not everyone at Kari was a slanderer but enough people had crude opinions of him that it was noticeable. He took his job seriously, which somehow meant to them that he thought they were idiots, even if he didn't interact with them directly. Their assumption was only halfway true. Some people he respected. Everyone else was an idiot, according to Ville. A few were, in sad actuality, not very smart.

Ville also had a tendency to stare intently at people while speaking with them, and sometimes when not speaking with them, which was apparently all it took for those feeble minded to assume he was rotten. Furthermore, he found himself routinely admonishing a select few morons for their poor security practices. What was he supposed to do, be friendly about that? As a result, he was deemed "creepy" and "intimidating." But, Ville was not surprised by these reactions. No matter where he was in life, past or present, he had received the same treatment; people at various institutions had the same complaints about him. Whatever. He knew he was smart and thus he'd always assumed the conduct he received was born from jealousy.

All that being said, Ville did not necessarily dislike his job. He got by in spite of his coworkers. He even had a few work "friends." He also appreciated the many opportunities to snag some free candy, though there were times he wished he didn't work so closely with his vice. He had not aimed for daily temptation in his work life, it was a sardonic fate. In this way, Kari Karamelli was a workplace like any other and even the drama of this week, comparatively, was not egregious; it was simply the reality of the working world. Periodically, he wished the routine was more exciting. Periodically, he was relieved to get a break from his own self-inflicted excitement.

Ville thought about his own recent excitement. This time, it was an unorchestrated event beyond his wildest obsessions. Apparently he had a sort of twin. He was by this point fairly convinced that she was genetically related to him. There was yet so much more to uncover. He was still taking a break from thinking about the situation, it was too bizarre. But, now that work was being quarrelsome, he felt ready to confront Vilja again. Soon. Not tonight, but soon.

He finished his meal and, ironically, poured himself a bowl of Kari chocolate covered hazelnuts to snack on. He sat down at his computer desk, crisscrossed. He didn't have the energy to do much tonight, so he opted to play a soothing puzzle game. He wondered if Vilja was doing anything similar and if she had a bad day at work, too. Somehow, he knew she did.

He completed a level in the puzzle game and again pondered his sour reputation at work. Maybe he could gather some information on a particular number of his coworkers. He wasn't sure if he'd ever use it, but, having it would be thrilling. He didn't have the stamina to search for it now, though. "Well," he thought, "amusingly, though they have no way of knowing about my life, perhaps they are not wrong to fear me. I do have my habits..." He smirked as he directed his digital file browser to a collection of other's personal, private information. Information he shouldn't have. "Hah, that's why I'm so good at my job. It's no wonder no one else thinks like I do. I'm what they are battling. I AM the threat. I AM the adversary. I don't call myself 'Virus' for nothing." He snickered quietly. Oh, what fun.

Hm. If what he was doing was wrong, then why was it so fun?

---


By Adaline Guerra