Newspeople attempt to outbreak news without outbreaking DVD-22
As soon as news of the DVD-22 outbreak outbroke, the people behind the outbreaking of the news have been busy. At the newsroom of one The Daily Ektara at Emotionation, newspeople are delivering Outbreaking News around the clock to the masses, risking their own lives.
Their workplace is located in the notorious Poultrygate, a crowded, noisy area of the city, where one is always at risk of getting groped, mugged, and now, infected.
In the wake of the DVD-22 outbreak, newsleaders are concerned about their employees' safety. "From today, fingerprints are cancelled," they circulated an email as saying.
Samusa Musa, an intern at the newspaper's No-biz desk, is deeply disappointed by the news, as he'd just gotten his fingerprints registered, and every time he entered the newsroom after the sensor turned green, it made him feel like an Important Newsperson.
Important newspeople, on the other hand, continue to risk their lives, going out every day to find stories. Newsleaders grow worried: how can they outbreak the news without outbreaking the virus?
And just when Samusa was getting used to the fingerprint thing, a new development threw him aback.
A week later, Samusa found all doors removed. This time the reason was to encourage "open door communication", and upon passing through multiple doorless elevators and rooms, he reachex his desk, only to find all keyboards and mice removed.
"Only the tab key and the number keypad are clean because none of you know how to use them. Every other key is infected," says a newsleader, violently rubbing her hands with alcohol.
"From today, newspeople will report verbally using voice-typing," the newsleaders announced, prompting multiple high-fives from crime reporters. Samusa, whose muscle memory still prompts him to touch the fingerprint sensor and perform elbow acrobatics to open doors, is sure he'd have trouble keeping up with more changes.
"Do I have to voice-edit and voice-proof now, too?" asks a newskeeper.
"Yes, of course. But be sure to have your masks on at all times, newspeople," says the admin, "You don't want to spread nasty germs through all this verbal, open-door communication."
DVD-22 is relentless. It does not stop, it does not judge who to infect. Every day the outbreaking news is revealing new cases, yet Important Newspersons brave the crowds of Poultrygate to collect reports.
Samusa, largely ignored by important newspeople, sits at a corner of the newsroom, repeatedly trying to get the voice-typing software to correct "the deceased was a three-wheeler" to "the deceased was on a three-wheeler." The software refuses to understand his Barishal accent.
While he was fiddling with his accent, wondering why the state hasn't put the entire population on quarantine so he can stop coming to a workplace that is slowly going insane, someone tries to pull his chair from behind.
"Sir, your butt is touching the surface of this chair, and I'm afraid we have to remove all touchable surfaces from this office," say three men in hazmat suits.
"I am Samusa's complete lack of surprise," says a voice inside his head. He gets up calmly and notices a queue with three-feet gaps between each person.
"You will all be given hazmat suits today. From tomorrow, you will come in to work, and you will not touch anything or anyone. The suit has the voice-typing software in-built," say newsleaders, "We believe productivity will shoot up since you will all have to work standing up now."
A week later, Samusa shows up to Poultrygate in his suit, especially decorated to look like Po from Teletubbies. He cannot seem to find The Daily Ektara's office.
Samusa walks around the neighbourhood a few times, unfazed by people's spits and stares, but his office seems to have disappeared.
Just then, he notices Important Newsperson, Commander Warrior, standing outside where The Daily Ektara once was.
"You don't check your e-mail, do you, kid?" Warrior asks, laughing at his confusion.
"Did they shift the office? I have too many email addresses because I keep sending myself backpack invites for the discount…," Samusa replies.
"The Daily Ektara exists inside a void now. To enter, you have to complete a 12-step Korean sanitising routine through here," Xena points to a sealed door on the now empty plot. "The password is three-wheeler."
Samusa waits until Xena leaves to find the day's outbreaking news, then attempts entering the void. He can't face the embarrassment of yet another software failing to recognise his Barishal accent.
It does fail.
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