Rosler watched the man leave his workshop, muttering something about arrogant individuals and place. Rosler was only seventeen years and counting along his career as ambitious little human, so he considered the responsibility only for the man. Where else would it go? It had no home here. He looked at the paper in his hand, wondering why the man had not bothered to take it back. Hope, maybe.
The paper was a form asking him to move his workshop somewhere else. It was not an enterprise, true, but it provided Rosler with everything he needed to work on whatever it was he had thought to build. He was an inventor of sorts, receiving income only from specifically requested alterations to various machines with patents that belonged to someone else. He didn't mind keeping his designs to himself, but he was bothered that others could not see why he preferred to innovate. He noticed that the paper also told him he was a potentially valuable military asset, and would enjoy many benefits if he applied. The paper told him they wanted him. He told the paper to tell them he wanted their pictures first. The paper didn't change anything. Neither did he. It was an odd place to put a request.
The following day, two town officials had taken the time to drive over to Roslers' workshop and tell him the man from yesterday had issued a claim on the building. He had a much higher net worth, and an expanding company to enforce the prospect. When Rosler complained to them about the paper the man had given him, three men in body armor had grabbed him from behind and injected him with a sleeper drug. When Rosler woke up, however, he was still in the same spot. There was police tape around the building, and two body bags laid out in a row just under it. The three men who had injected him were gone. He started to get up when a synthetic but soft, staccato beeping noise started ringing in his ears. It had an amazing calmess to it, and it was enough to keep him lying there, right where he was. He was beginning to wonder why nobody had displaced him when he noticed the crowd of police teams behind the tape, pointing guns and binoculars at his workshop. There were no more than five snipers among them, and they were the only ones aiming at him. They were all wearing sophisticated nano-resistant body armor, complete with kinetic blast shields around their waists and neck.
He remained where he was for half a minute, when a small, quiet voice with a confident and powerful quality told him he had not noticed the beeping noise had stopped and he needed to get up and head to the basement as fast as he could.
"Murva? You finished that installation already? The other computers couldn't have connected by now!"
"Relshan, it's been four months. You have to leave now. You're lucky no one came inside."