#Door Access Control Systems Door Control System

[catamount-collections]

(Just going to preface this by saying that the story above is really good! It just sparked an interest in writing a...different take on the world shown.)

It was quiet in the dorms. Not terribly late, but curfew for 'optimal REM sleep' had come and gone, the lights automatically turned off. Most of the humans were asleep or resting.

In a bunk near the door, one young woman waits and listens to the sounds of breathing. The sound used to annoy her only occasionally, but now? Now it's both reassuring and sets her teeth on edge. The robots don't breathe. They're too refined for exhaust or fans either. The sound of breathing reminds her that there is still life here.

And yet. And yet-

The sound makes the rage in her heart burn hotter, makes her want to scream and wail and demand. These people, who call themselves cyborgs proudly or with humor, who appreciate their robotic overseers...they make her sick with fury.

But she learned a long time ago how to refine her anger, and she has a plan. It won't win her any friends here.

---

The hand-wound pocket watch she snuck in ticks against her breastbone where she hides it in her shirt. It's an antique, and little more than scrap in the ocular cameras of the robots. She claimed it was enrichment, so she was allowed to keep it.

When it ticks over to midnight, she creeps carefully from her bunk, pocket watch on a chain around her throat and pilfered mechanic's kit strapped around her waist. She moves on silent feet to a maintenance panel, inputting the override code she dug out of encrypted data weeks ago.

The wall panel opens silently, without even the subtle hiss of hydraulics. It makes her teeth clench, but she slips into the maintenance shaft anyway.

It's tight, claustrophobic, and dark. The robots don't need lights, not really, and human mechanics aren't meant to have access to the facility's innards like this.

She skulks along the familiar path to the central server, emerging into a triangular room lit only by the indicator lights of the deceptively small server box. She glares at it, just because, then crosses over to it.

A part of her wants to just smash it. To destroy the lifeless heart of this place. But she knows something more controlled is necessary, if she wants this to matter.

It's a matter of only a few minutes for her to connect her stolen holo-tablet to the server core, using the backdoor she spent months coding into it. And with that connection, she has control. Total, complete control of every process and connected function.

One might call it hubris, that the robots had such a poorly protected weak point. That they had no guards there, no physical protections. But the robots are incapable of such pride - she checked. They have no code for emotion, or sentiment. They have protocols and nothing more.

Her plan is simple: a virus. Relatively weak, targeting the extraneous systems. But it will be enough to put the facility into lockdown, isolating it from the others. No communications in or out. And then she shuts it all down from here.

She feels a brief flicker of discomfort. Shutting down the systems here so completely will affect the people who are dependent on them. The 'cyborgs'. And as furious as she is, she doesn't lack empathy for them. They'll be hurt. Some will die. And it'll be on her hands

But that empathy does nothing to quiet the grief that whispers words of venom, poisoning her heart. She was spared by the 'bots on a technicality - glasses, and a bit of metal in her skull from an old surgery. The people who had been with her weren't so lucky.

So she stifles the pang of regret, and sets into motion the vengeance she's spent months crafting.

---

Back in the dorm, the lights flick on and a robotic voice sounds from hidden speakers.

"Attention all organic residents," It says as people begin to stir, "This facility is now in isolation mode. Do not panic. Normal operations will resume momentarily. This message will now-"

The voice cuts off abruptly, and in the same moment the dorm is plunged into darkness.

Tension rises as the residents begin to speak, friends and bunk neighbors questioning each other.

But true panic sets in when another voice speaks over the intercom.

"Attention residents," The young woman's voice - few recognize it, since she's so cold and closed off - says, "Tonight, you make a choice. All robots in this facility have been deactivated. I understand if you are upset. They've treated you well, better than the old society. They made you feel like one of them. But if you stand with them, you will meet their same fate. I have no interest in preserving the lives of those who would placidly accept the rule of those who would execute children. You have an hour to make your allegiances known."

There's something like a click, or a crackle, as the intercom shuts off. Emergency lighting casts panicked, terrified faces in a dull red glow.

And in the small, hidden core of the facility, the last, lonely survivor of an extended family that once numbered over a dozen watches chaos set in.

And, for the first time in a year, she feels the weight of grief lift from her chest.

The Robot Apocalypse came. Cities are empty, you stayed since you’re almost out of insulin and will die soon anyway. The robots find you and while processing you one of them sees your insulin pump and asks if you want to apply for dual citizenship, since the pump technically makes you a cyborg.

[justafewberries]

Beetee's failed attempt to hack the capitol coms leading to punishment with Ampert is either evidence that the attack served a greater rebel organization

Or

Beetee wanted to do a mega attack that would create that rebel organization from the network of cells.

If it's the latter then a possible rebel tendency towards mega propo attacks(blowing up arenas) could be established.

Though most d12 rebel action besides posters is based on escaping d12 or sabatoging mine production(in CF we see more examples of this in other districts).

I don't think Beetee was trying to communicate through the system:

“It’s because I’m being punished for coming up with a plan to sabotage the Capitol’s communication system. I’m too valuable to kill, but my son is disposable.”

He was trying to sabotage it. He was trying to prohibit something from being communicated, or just take the systems down entirely. However, we do not know when he tried to sabotage them. It could have been years prior. Ampert was 12, so it was the first year he could have been reaped. This opens the door to the sabotage plan being developed before the period between the 49-50th Games.

He did not know he was caught until they reaped Ampert:

“But it is. Entirely. I took a risk. I didn’t suspect that I’d been found out until the reaping. The timing was calculated. If I had known, I could have killed myself, and Ampert would be safe at home. That is how Snow works.”

This doesn't necessarily mean he developed the plan recently, but I think makes it more likely.

There are a few reasons he may have taken up against the communication system specifically (other than the fact he's the comms guy in mockingjay):

Prevent development of the arena:

He stated he got to look over the plans over a year ago:

“My point is that, for at least a few weeks, the arena has to be capable of sustaining the tributes and supporting the set pieces. I haven’t seen the plan for the actual arena, but over a year ago, they had me look over the Sub-A design."

So he has insider knowledge. Perhaps he was planning to meddle with the communication systems for the construction of the arena. Although, I don't think this hold water, as he did not implement the plans, and the arena would have to have been built by then.

"Oh yes, Well, they've been in the works for years, of course. Arenas aren't built in a day." (Catching Fire, Plutarch)

So, at best, he would be meddling with the construction of a future arena.

Trying to overwrite Capitol propaganda

People in the Capitol love their TV's. Maybe it's literally just him trying to do what he does in Mockingjay, although, I'm not sure what he would break in with, but that could be why it's a plan he didn't implement. They needed propos in Mockingjay before they could do any kind of breaking in.

Game communications/operations

Perhaps he was trying to sabotage the trackers (but that really wouldn't accomplish much on its own), or the operations of the Games in a Bluetooth/control from a remote location kind of way. I'd buy this if Sub-A didn't exist and the Games were as automated as they were in the 74th Games.

There are a few smaller things that could have to do with "Capitol communications", like moving Peacekeeper squadrons from areas to allow access to restricted areas, too, but I don't know if that would be sabotaging so much as interfering/controlling, maybe he just planned to leave a security gap in them for later?

I think the distinction of "sabotage" is why I'm not sure if it had anything to do with the rebels or not.

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[reddevilmcnt]

Slade recognized the very moment Harper's voice changed; only, he had no idea where the sudden strain of emotion was coming from, as though a nervous lump had formed in his throat. Followed by more of his looking down and away at anything that wasn't Slade------------ more tiny traces of visibly rattled behavior that cut away at the illusion of Harper's typical mask of poise and sensual charisma. Now, Slade had already known that Harper was more... complicated than he usually let on, and it was why, initially, Slade had no interest in dipping into Harper's world. The boy was clearly surrounded by individuals who provoked a lot of negative or fake behaviors out of him; they weren't good for him but it also wasn't Slade's place to tell him that.

Nonetheless... it makes sense why a lot of that falls apart when he's in Slade's presence, and he becomes a real boy with real wants, needs, and fears-------------- because Slade's very much a real man who doesn't require, or even desire, any of the shallow pretenses. But watching Harp start to express his feelings was always a bit of a shock to Slade's system, as he took in Harper awkwardly trying and glancing away and slightly fumbling. He wants Slade to take care of him?

"Baby, I-------------" I'm trying to.

Something within Slade wanted to understand, yet he remembered again that it was just the treacherous impulses of his heart again. The very useless thing that would have him longing for someone who was never going to actually love him back, and he shouldn't be letting that bedroom passion keep leaking into everything else they did together.

He's taken off guard by Harper standing with him, falling back into his seduction that will never not work on Slade, but that also wasn't totally necessary. With a roguish, irresistible soft smile that trickled tenderness up to his entire gaze, Slade merely reached up to scrub his thumb along Harper's cheekbone. A moment goes by as he tilts his head, tries to read Harper a bit more.

"I need you, too. So let's clean up and get ready for bed, yeah?" It's his gentle way of encouraging Harper along, because where Harper was physically spent, Slade was emotionally drained and ready to just hold Harp in his arms for the rest of the night. Soft affection that he didn't seek out very often, though he craved it now, and maybe, just maybe, that was some of where Harper's clinginess was coming from, too. A clingy Harper wasn't necessarily one he didn't like; it was new and refreshing and, deep down, Slade suspected that he could spend the rest of his lifetime wanting Harper's touch and never grow tired of it.

After they got out together, the big man focused on gathering up his dirty clothes, wallet, and keys, then slipped into something clean----------- a snug v-neck shirt and loose-fitting athletic pants that he must've forgotten over here a long time ago thanks to another desperate tryst. He did wonder, in the back of his mind, how many of his hoodies had Harper stolen too, but he wasn't going to press him to give anything back. That Harper wanted any lingering memories of Slade at all was... interesting.

He wandered out of the room and into the kitchen while Harp was still fixing up the bed, just to see about grabbing some water and food, when he'd tugged open the fridge to see not very much packed inside. Okay, not terribly surprising; Harper lived alone and might not be concerned with always keeping the place stocked up for other people. But it did make Slade want to cook something for him, and just ensure that he had access to properly nutritious food in general. ...Not trying to control Harper, but it was in Slade's culture to make sure that loved ones were eating.

Loved ones.

Shaking off the thought, Slade goes to slip on his shoes by the door, and heads out to the night market around the block. They were a bit far from Slade's own house, as he preferred living in the outskirts of the city, but he knew this neighborhood thanks to all of his, uh... late night travels over. He spends about thirty minutes getting there and back, reentering the unlocked apartment by shouldering open the door with a grocery bag in each hand. Thinks he'll make maybe a couple of beef and veggie bowls and...

"Hey," smiles stunningly in Harp's direction as he makes it back into the kitchen, "I felt like cooking so I went out to the store really quick." But then------------- he turns to Harper, shortly realizing that he'd probably thought the worst about him. ...Not that Slade believed it was too big of a deal, or that Harp cared that much, but he still reached out for him, sweetly grasping for Harp's chin to steer the boy towards looking him in the eyes again. "Aw. Thought I disappeared on ya?"

Harper was surprised at just how good the man was at massaging his feet. He relaxed back and let out an eager groan as he was touched by the man. Those hands which had left him bruised and unable to move now were taking care of him and helping him relax and recoup. How Slade could manage to be both so brutal and so kind confused Harper, but at this moment he was just enjoying it. All that he wanted was to feel safe and comfortable and Slade was doing all the right things to keep him properly subdued. Harper felt calm and lazy like he could rest in this moment for hours without being disrupted. It was a sense of safety he wasn't entirely used to.

"All the credit? Wow. Someone's pretty cocky." Of course, the other wasn't wrong. It had been the feeling of being broken down so completely that had him feeling relaxed in this moment. He gently sank deeper into the tub, letting the water come up past his chin as he soaked himself completely, clouds of bubbles surrounding him and obscuring the coy smirk on his lips.

Are you going to be okay getting out by yourself?

It's an innocuous question, innocent and purely just Slade checking in on him. But Harper's mind, ever anxious and self-destructive, can't help but hear some hidden meaning. Did Harper think Slade was about to stand up and leave this instant? No. Did his brain start to panic at the thought alone? Almost instantly. He does his best to stay cool, focusing on the massage to his feet instead of his racing thoughts. Slade said he didn't have to leave until morning. Harper didn't need to worry. But then again, what if Slade's anger came back? What if he left for good this time? What if, no matter what he did, Harper wasn't enough?

Dipping beneath the water for just a moment, Harper took a moment, desperately trying to calm his mind down. He sat back up, using water from the faucet to clean his face of any soap before he finally opened his eyes back up, looking at Slade with a hard to decipher stare.

"No."

There was a tightness to his response like he was choking it out. It was a lie, the warm bath and kind hands having helped Harper regain his senses and control over his legs. He wasn't even sure what the point of the lie was. To force Slade into helping him? To guilt him into staying longer? There was only a few moments before he followed himself up. "Or, yes but--" He looked to the side, unsure what he was even doing at this point. "I want you to take care of me." He couldn't look at Slade as he made his confession. It was nothing in the grand scheme of things, but the pure act of trying to be honest was out of character for Harper.

Noticing how the other was looking around, Harper easily guessed what the man was looking for. "There are extra towels under the sink. I have some clothes you left in my closet." He shrugged, acting like it was casual and meant nothing that he kept the other's clothes and had them cleaned and put away. Maybe it did mean nothing. Who knew why Harper did half the things that he did.

Finally looking back towards the other, Harper tilted his head. Was that true? Part of him wanted to ask, but he decided to bite back the question. Why bother asking a question when he couldn't handle the answer? He took a moment before slowly standing up himself. Despite his admission, he couldn't sit still any longer. He removed the plug from the drain, the water in his bath quickly emptying. "I need you right now, daddy." It was a dangerous game to play, his body was already pushed to its limit. But this was the one way he knew to make sure Slade kept wanting him and, in his insecurity, he was willing to do anything it took to prove to himself that this wasn't going to suddenly be over when the sun rose and Slade came to his senses.

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