Chapter 16 - The FurnaceThe underground server farm was designed to operate at a brisk fifty-five degrees. With the massive industrial cooling fans suddenly dead, the ambient heat generated by thousands of processing cores spiked instantly. Within five minutes, the room temperature hit a hundred degrees. Within ten, it would be fatal.
Owen dropped Mr. Hops, his mind racing faster than the overheating servers surrounding them. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes.
"Marcus, we need to break the glass!" Owen shouted, gesturing wildly toward the reinforced observation window of the security booth where Elena had been broadcasting from.
Marcus picked up his empty Glock by the barrel and slammed the heavy steel grip against the glass with all his might. Crack. A tiny spiderweb fracture appeared, but the glass held. It was bulletproof polycarbonate.
"It's no use!" Marcus coughed, the air growing dangerously thin and suffocatingly hot. The servers began to emit high-pitched warning beeps as their internal thermometers redlined. "We're going to bake in here, Owen!"
"No, we're not," Owen said, a dangerous, desperate idea forming in his mind. "The magnetic locks on the blast doors are tied to the building's main power grid. They have a fail-safe. If the servers detect a catastrophic, localized fire, the halon gas deploys and the doors unlock to allow emergency crews inside."
"So start a fire!" Marcus yelled, wiping sweat from his eyes.
"It's an oxygen-deprived environment, nothing will burn fast enough," Owen panted, running to the nearest massive server rack. He grabbed the heavy steel crowbar he had tucked in his belt. "We don't need a fire. We just need the sensors to think there's a fire. We need a massive electrical short."
Owen jammed the crowbar into the exposed wiring chassis of the main distribution frame.
"Get back!" Owen screamed.
He ripped the crowbar sideways, severing the thick, high-voltage power cables. A blinding arc of blue electricity exploded from the rack, showering Owen in sparks. The massive surge cascaded through the localized grid. The heat sensors directly above them instantly melted, registering a catastrophic thermal event.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP.
The computerized voice of the building's AI echoed through the roasting room. "Catastrophic thermal event detected. Halon gas deploying in ten seconds. Evacuate immediately. Blast doors disengaged."
With a heavy, metallic thunk, the magnetic locks on the exit doors died.
May you like
Marcus shoved the heavy steel doors open just as the hissing white cloud of oxygen-killing halon gas began to spray from the ceiling. They tumbled out into the cool, concrete parking garage, gasping for breath, coughing violently.
Owen scrambled to his feet, snatching up the stuffed rabbit. He wasn't dead. But the nightmare was far from over.
Related Stories
