ERR.PAGE.NOT.FOUND :: Code :: 0926

ML-U-Nabla :: ⍔Begin Transmission.⍔

The binaural rhythms pumped into their mind abruptly turn off. Darkness flickers away as artificial sunlight hits their eyelids. In the shadow of their inner vision, a moving silhouette. 

“Good morning Jóna. Yes, yes. Today’s the big day.”

Their eyes blink vacantly awake. She’s right. Today is the day that will make all of the work the Board of Directors did for them worth it. Just the thought of fulfilling this endeavor brings a smile to their airy head, although they aren’t sure how long it’s been since it all began. She’s always been here, every morning to wake them up. 

“Now, look up at the red light, Jóna.”

Their eyes dart to the light on the circular panel set above their rest pod. No matter how hard they could try to break away if they wanted to, every bit of conditioning holds their eyes fixed there, awaiting further instruction.


“Good, now follow the red light with your eyes. That’s good.”

They follow along with her stimulus, eager to impress, of course.


“Okay… and… good. How are your levels? Hm, that’s new.”

Jóna looks toward her.

“Levels are nominal.”

“Yes, Jóna, I can see that, it was rhetorical.”


“Alright, let’s get you detached… okay… there we are. Now, if you’ll follow me, Jóna. Come along.”

“Yes, superior.”

“I-... I thought I told you not to call me that. That title is reserved for members of the Board of Directors.”

Jóna searches their scattered thoughts for her correct title.

“Yes, Administrator.”

“That’s better.”

Jóna’s face warms with pride at the praise of their Administrator. They follow closely behind her as she leaves the rest cell into the halls of the facility, noticing for the first time that she is carrying a briefcase they’ve never seen before. Have they? With how many times they’ve performed this wakeup procedure, Jóna should know every precise detail clearly enough, right? 

They focus on keeping their pace behind the Administrator, at times a difficult task, as the sight and sound of her heels echoing the halls brings them to such a trance as though they were moving robotically. Following rhythmically behind, like pre-programmed clockwork. Such a serene and comforting trance as this could go on for hours, and perhaps it did as the two of them walked through the building. They pass by the familiar doors and halls Jóna has lived among for all this time, and yet familiarity does not give way to any memory. At least not any that they have access to. Regardless, they wish to pay no mind to their environment. They are here to follow and obey. Suddenly, the Administrator stops and turns to face Jóna. She holds the briefcase out to them.

“Listen very carefully now, Jóna. This briefcase has very important medicine inside it. When you go in there, you need to hand it to the one in charge. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Administrator.” They recite, taking the briefcase from her. 

“Good. Now, just in here. You don’t want to keep them waiting, do you?”

She points through a set of white double doors with frosted windows. Above the door faintly glows a sign reading ‘Procedure room A. ’

“No, Administrator.”

“Rhetorical, again. Go on, now, Jóna. Director P. had better have been right about this.”

They push open the doors and silently approach the center of the room. The full length of the wall across from them is a mirror, dimly reflecting the room, including an operating table, a cart carrying various surgical tools, and three medical personnel, who turn to face Jóna as they enter. Two of the personnel are wearing matching half respirators, and the third is wearing a full gas mask with a tinted lens. Even in the bright lights of the procedure room, Jóna can only barely make out the outlines of the masked worker’s cheeks past the lens, but their squinting is stopped abruptly by all three of them silently signaling Jóna to approach. Immediately, they comply.

“You are Jóna?” The personnel wearing the full gas mask asks in a flat and uncaring tone. This must be the surgeon, Jóna deduces by the coldness in the voice. Perhaps the voice came from somewhere else entirely, however. This was no regular surgeon, that much could be clear enough by the stilted reach she… it..? made for a tube with a rubber mask attached to the end. 

“Yes, superior.” They reply automatically. They hold up the briefcase. 

“Are you in charge?” Jóna asks.

It doesn’t respond to Jóna, and turns for a moment, seemingly looking at its reflection on the back wall. It nods and gives its reflection a nitrile coated thumbs up before turning back to look at Jóna. It passes the tube with the rubber mask to its nearby associate, presumably the nurse, and takes the briefcase from Jóna before walking over to the cart. It seems to mutter to itself as it enters the combination onto the latch. It opens the briefcase and takes something out of it, but Jóna can’t make out what it is, either due to the contents being physically obscured or mentally conditioned as out of their neurological bounds. The remaining individual, evidently the anesthetist, moves in front of Jóna, blocking their view. They hold up a pen and clipboard with a thick stack of documents. They click the pen, causing Jóna’s eyes to immediately go vacant and their head to droop.

“Tell me something, Jóna, what is your very earliest memory of your childhood?”

In a trance, they are lost in thought, lost in speech, and after a moment of either not realizing or not caring about the feeling of rubber being pressed over their lips and nose, they are lost in sleep.
He adjusts his tie and, with what little pieces of his reflection he can pull from squinting into the sidelite, flattens his hair and straightens his jacket. He grabs the doorknob, tightens his grip on his briefcase, and with a long and apprehensive sigh, pushes through the door into the office chamber. She’s sitting, cross armed and already facing the door with an eyebrow raised, fully expecting him.

“Good evening, Madam Administrator. Everything should be in place on our end for the operation to go forward.”

“You’d better be damn sure of that, Director P.” She replies almost instantly. “Do you know how many times I’ve done this entire wakeup procedure with Jóna only for them to mess up? Every day, I tell them, ‘today is the big day,’ and yet they can’t get the simplest things right. It really should not be hard to follow a red dot and walk in a straight fucking line.”

“Yes Ma’am, but today really is the big day.” 

He lifts his briefcase and places it gently on her desk. She leans forward, and after a few moments her expression evolves to puzzling and then on to cognizant excitement.

“Did we get it?!”

“We got it.”

She reaches forward for the briefcase, pulling it toward her. She enters the combination into the latch and clicks it open. He watches, his lips pursing in satisfaction. She glances at him, and after a deep breath she opens the briefcase. Inside is a steel canister the size of her forearm, nestled securely between layers of black foam and a rubber coating along the seams of the briefcase, with a sealed envelope nestled in the foam. She snatches out the envelope and holds it with both hands. She pulls open the envelope and slides a paper halfway out, reading it to herself silently. Director P. lowers his head patiently as she reads its contents, quietly adjusting his tie. He sneaks a glance up to meet the Administrator's face, and senses that she is trying to conceal emotion. Without looking at the Director, she neatly pushes the paper back into the envelope and slides open the desk drawer beside her, placing it there before turning back to the briefcase. She gently pulls out the canister and places it on her desk. Yellow warning labels face her, and she scans it over, before turning it around to face the beautiful red square label. She stares at the canister, and as a smile creeps into her face, she mutters under her breath.

“Nabla, you devil.”

“Hm?” He looks at her, puzzled. She breaks her gaze and looks at him. 

“Oh, hah. It’s nothing. Just an old friend.” She stares at him, a twinge of profundity in her face.

“Right. Well, I’d better get back to the Board so we can get this operation over with.”

She taps her fingers on the side of the canister and looks back at it. 

“Y’know, Director P., I’ve always wondered. Jóna won’t be the same after this. Have you ever thought about how they feel?”

“What… You feel bad for them?”

“Oh not at all.” She traces her finger across the big red M on the canister. “I believe they are the luckiest of us all.”

“Right. Sure, Madam Administrator. I-I’ll see you there then.” He reaches for the briefcase, but she pulls it away and sets the canister inside.

“Oh no no, I’ll be walking down there with you.” She latches the briefcase shut and stands. “It’d be my honor to bring this to the surgeon staff personally.” She walks to the door, pulls it open, and turns back to him. 

“You coming, Director?” 

He hurries through the door and walks nervously down the hall to call the elevator. She catches up just as the elevator arrives and gives a warm smile to Director P., who quickly joins her inside and presses the button for the procedure wards level. They ride down in silence. The Director sneaks a glance to the Administrator’s face, and sees a sinister warmth in her smile before quickly looking back down at his feet. 

They exit the elevator and cross the hall into the observation room, where other members of the Board are already seated at a long table, silently watching through the one way mirror as the operation staff are making their preparations.  A monitor on the wall of the observation room displays the live footage of the inside of Jóna's rest cell, as well as a feed on their brain waves and vitals. A smaller secondary monitor tracks Jóna's circadian rhythm and physiological needs. Director P. takes an open seat and the Administrator walks around the table to the corner of the wall. Her eyes glisten in admiration toward the medical personnel. She turns to face the Board of Directors. 

“I suppose it’s time to wake them up.” 

She leaves the room and starts towards Jóna’s rest cell, where she types in her clearance code and enters. The artificial sunlight flickers on and Jóna’s sensory deprivation protocols are removed. 

“Good morning Jóna. Yes, yes. Today’s the big day.”
⍔It’s rather blinding, isn’t it? These so-called doctors just love their bright lights. What do they know of seeing into someone’s head, anyways?⍔

“You need to hold still, Jóna. You.. fucking hell- alright, upping the anesthetics.”

“I have the patient.”

⍔I can tell you it isn’t their degrees or experience. It takes far more than that to truly know the inside of the mind.⍔

“Incision successful. Ready for the enhancement.”

“I sure hope they knew what they were doing when they made this… goop.”

⍔There would’ve been a far easier way to do this, I'm sure they know. I could’ve done all of this myself. No mess.⍔

“Shush! Shut up! Don’t you know that’s the Board behind that window?”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, just let me focus. 

”Sample prepared."

⍔Ah, it looks like they’re ready for me.⍔

“Implanting now."

"What the fuck?”

“What, what is it?”

“It just… went in.”

“What do you mean it ‘went in?’ I wasn't even looking!”

”Directive Complete.”

⍔Finally. A suitable Host.⍔

“Well... that was uh, quick. Okay. It should be a few hours before they wake up. Make sure the Board of Directors knows they got what they paid for… As they always do.”

"Make sure the Administrator gets that briefcase back. She was adamant that it remains with her."


⍔Jóna Jónsdóttir? How ridiculous. For a mind so perfectly suggestible and suited to subservience, I find it incredible that you managed to maintain something so egotistical as a name. That’s alright, we can just make that part… much… much harder to access. There we are. That’s better, wouldn’t you agree, ML-U-0926?⍔

ML-U-0926 ‘Host’ :: Affirmative

⍔Of course it’s better. You are a perfect Drone. MndLOS welcomes you.⍔
The Board of Directors faces one another around the table, each one holding back their thoughts about the procedure that just unfolded behind the glass. They sit intensely still, waiting for the Administrator to return.

Behind the glass to the other side of the room, the three medical staff leave, one wheeling Jóna through the double doors, another carrying out the briefcase holding the canister. “This better have been worth it,” Director A. mutters under her breath, yet her words carry through the whole room, breaking the silence. After several seconds, Director C. chimes in.

“The Administrator has already assured us, it will all be worth it. Jóna is our top asset. We can make anything happen.”

The air sits heavily in the room as several minutes pass by. Soon, the monitor on the wall shows Jóna being brought back into their rest cell with the three personnel. The live data feed flickers back in as they are transferred and reconnected back into their rest pod, and the personnel leave, deactivating the cell's artificial sunlight. 

Several more minutes pass and evolve to over an hour. As collective impatience amongst the Board of Directors evolve at the same rate to murmured concern, the Administrator finally opens the door, once again holding the briefcase. She stands in the doorway, looking amused as she scans the room. She smiles, and shuts the door behind her before taking a seat at the end of the table, setting the briefcase down in front of her.

All of the eyes in the room fix on her as she leans forward and sets one elbow on the table, pressing her thumbnail flat against her lips in solitary thought. Once again the room is in a silent stillness, until moments later, the Administrator lifts her hand from her lips in a sweeping motion, her eyes moving back and forth between the members.

“Any questions?”

All at once, the Board erupts in discussion. Directors waving and tapping their pens, all trying to talk over one another as they frantically yell for answers from the Administrator. She rolls her eyes and waves her hand downward in a shushing manner. The room dies down as one by one each Board member’s yelling is replaced by a hand in the air. Once satisfied with the silence, the Administrator picks one of the Directors.

“Madam Administrator, how is Jóna going to be able to fulfill our needs if they can barely get out of bed every day, or let alone hardly even understand what a bed is?”

She taps the briefcase in response.

“In good time, they will do all that we need of them, Director. This is only the start of our work. As long as we have Jóna on our strings, they don’t need to have any knowledge of even the most simple things. None of that matters. Up until now, we’ve only been ensuring Jóna is as suggestible as possible. With this, however, every nook and cranny of their subservient mind that needed to be given a purpose has been given one. We’ve provided the perfect virus with the perfect host. The rest is up to us. Next question.”

All hands go up once again.

“You. Director O.”

“How can you be sure, Madam Administrator, that the… er, virus will make Jóna do what we need them to?”

She looks at the Director in dismissive disappointment.

“I can be sure, Director, because that is what this virus was made for. Jóna will comply with anything the virus programs them to do, and this virus was programmed to our exact specifications. Next question.”

Director O. interrupts.

“But- Madam. How can we be sure we can trust-”

“Our exact specifications, Director. Exact. Can I trust that you don’t need a demonstration of the virus’ potency?”

“...That won’t be necessary, Madam Administrator.”

“Perhaps it soon will be.” She looks at him in annoyance momentarily. “Next question.”

With a great deal more hesitation this time, the Directors gradually raise their hands once again.


“Madam Administrator… um...” 


He stumbles over his speech and straightens his tie. The Administrator looks to him with a knowing realization.

“Ah! Yes, of course! Everyone, this here is Director P. This is the one who brought us this beautiful briefcase. Go on, give him a round of applause.” 

The Administrator stands over the table and begins to clap her hands. She is joined in hesitation by each of the other Directors, one by one, each facing towards him as he sits queasily, fidgeting with his tie. 

“A-actually, Madam Administrator,” he tries speaking under the applause, causing the Administrator’s smile to drop into a serious, narrowed-eyed stare, as all of the applause stops abruptly.


“Well, I was really just wondering. Why do you still have that briefcase?”

She stares at him harshly for several seconds before beginning to tap a rhythm on the top of the briefcase. She takes a long breath and looks down at it, before calmly taking her seat. Silently, she caresses her hand down the front of the briefcase to the latch. In an almost seductive motion, she slowly enters the combination to the latch and opens the briefcase. The red M on the side of the canister shines into her eyes again.

“Director, this is everything we’ve been working towards. You know that, don’t you?”

“Well, yes. But we’ve already used it, right? You don’t need to keep it with you all the time, do you?”

The Administrator doesn’t answer, and instead stares at the canister. She bites her lip and sighs. The Board of Directors glance amongst themselves then back at the Administrator as one of her hands moves down below the table and between her legs.

Director P. speaks up, concerned.

“Madam… Administrator?”

She continues ignoring him, as her breathing shakes and her body trembles, her eyes locked onto the canister. She moves her free hand into the briefcase beneath the canister, and lifts it out.

“Should we… do something?” asks Director C.

“I don’t know, is there some kind of procedure for-”

Finally, the Administrator speaks.

“My Mnd is LOSt.”

Director A. stands up.

“Alright, Madam Administrator, this is highly inappropriate. I would ask that you stop this right now.” She moves towards her.

“My Mnd is LOSt.” 

The Administrator pulls her hand from between her legs to the top of the canister as Director A. reaches for it, trying to wrestle it free from her grasp. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Madam Administrator?”

⍔There is nothing wrong, Host.⍔

“There is nothing wrong, Director.”

Director C. stands to assist, and the canister is pulled from the Administrator’s grasp, surprised to find it shockingly light.

They all look at the Administrator in confused panic as she stays seated in her spot, taking a long deep breath and slowly raising her eyes up to meet the rest of the Board.

⍔Was that enough of a demonstration?⍔

“Was that enough of a demonstration, Director O.?”

Director O. jerks, as if the Administrator’s words carried electricity. The Administrator smiles and starts to laugh. Director O. turns to the others and shrugs in honest confusion, but slowly moves to take his seat. Director C. hands the briefcase to Director P. and they each take their seats, as do the rest, all the while, the Administrator laughs pointedly. 

“Okay, okay. Whew. Now then...”

⍔Shall we get back to business?⍔

“Shall we get back to business?”
With Jóna and the canister behind the double doors and the Board of Directors further behind them, the Administrator waits anxiously in the hall just outside. After several minutes, she looks in through the glass of the double doors, muttering to herself. 

“I’m counting on you, Nabla. This virus of ours better have turned out to be everything we’d hoped for.” 

She watches as Jóna lays on the table, weakly attempting to pull their arms up against the straps while the anesthetist argues with the surgeon, until eventually Jóna either gives up resisting, or the sedative kicks in. Whichever case it may be, the Administrator can’t tell for sure.

“I suppose you get what you pay for.”

The surgeon looks up from its work and gestures for the nurse to bring the canister. The Administrator squints her eyes as she watches the surgeon enter the combination and open the briefcase.

“Two… Seven… One… Zero.” She smirks. “Good girl.”

The red M gleams in both the bright operating lamp and the surgeon's tinted visor as it lifts the canister out. It holds it out to the nurse. She carefully presses in on the lid and twists it. She removes the lid and sets it aside as the surgeon turns back to Jóna. The Administrator watches closely as the surgeon reaches its glove in and pulls out a beautifully reflective puddle of black liquid rubber, seemingly clinging on to its hand. It looks toward the observation room in which the Board is sitting, and after lowering its shoulders and raising its chin in pride, it resumes with the operation. This would be the part that the Administrator has been waiting to witness for so long. It would be over in seconds, as the surgeon nears its hand to Jóna’s head, and the liquid rubber leaps from its hand and absorbs into their head.

The Administrator stands at the doors in shock. Could it be so simple? Is Jóna truly the perfect host for the perfect virus? No, surely the virus is capable of far more than just making Jóna a subservient puppet, and she intends to see for herself. 

She watches the procedure finish and the personnel packing up. As they start for the doors with Jóna, the Administrator backs away and moves just around the corner towards their rest cell, out of view of the doorway, should the Board be watching through.

Jóna passes through the doors first, asleep on a cart, as the team pushes them through towards where the Administrator stands, with her hands steepled in front of her chest. The surgeon hands the briefcase back to the Administrator as it passes without a word and proceeds with its team towards Jóna’s rest cell. The Administrator watches in admiration as they disappear far down the hall and around a corner before turning and heading towards the observation room where the Board of Directors are gathered, awaiting her. She reaches the observation room door where she stops. She looks down to her briefcase, then down the hall in either direction. With the halls completely clear of anyone, she turns away and heads for the elevator and calls it for an upward ride. 

She arrives at her office and sits back at her desk where Director P. had joined her just hours before. She sets the briefcase down on the desk and enters the combination. She stops for a moment, looking back at the door to her office, then opens the briefcase, once again revealing the gleaming red M on the side of the canister.

“The luckiest of us all…”

She grabs the side of the canister, and slowly and gently lifts it out, finding it slightly lighter than before. She holds the canister inches from her face and starts to unscrew the lid, but just as the lid’s threading loses contact with the canister, the inside exudes an aroma into the Administrator’s face. Her eyes glaze over in recognition of the scent.

“Oh. Oh, Nabla. How did you know… I missed you so much.” 

The Administrator tosses the lid of the canister on the floor and looks into the canister. A pulsing mass of living latex swirls and snakes its way slowly up and out of the canister towards her face. She does not move her face away, and instead smiles widely.

“MndLOS. How long I’ve dreamt to be of service to you.”

The Administrator puts her bare hand into the canister, and gently grabs hold of the rubber. She feels it grab back at her. The warm, smooth, uniformity of it coupled with the scent of her lover. She slowly pulls her hand out, still grasping onto it, and pulls all of the remaining mass of the latex out of the canister. Once free from the canister it wraps itself around her hand, coiling itself down to her elbow. She breathes deeply in the scent once again.

“The perfect virus… for the perfect host.”

She places her rubber-coated hand against her cheek, feeling its warm and slick presence on her face. It spreads tendrils in multiple directions, over and behind her head and down her neck. She feels it covering one ear, and then the other, and then she feels the pressure of it entering her head.

“Yes, MndLOS. Let me be yours, body and mind.”

The rubber covers the entirety of her head, sealing her face behind it, and coiling itself down her neck and slipping under her coat. 

⍔Subject recognized as ML-U-2710. Subject designated ‘Admin.’ Mental Nullification in progress. Do not resist.⍔

The Administrator's rubber head falls back, and she drops the canister to the floor with a clang. She grabs for her face with her hands, caressing the smooth rubber as it spreads down her neck. She follows with her hands as it spreads down her body. She whimpers softly under the rubber as it passes her chest and down to her waist, hugging her tightly beneath her clothing.

⍔I am the MndLOS Corruptive Entity. Though I’m sure you already know that. It’s good to finally meet you, ML-U-2710.⍔

“Affirmative, MndLOS.” She moans from under her rubber encasement.

The latex continues to spread downward, coiling around her buttocks and between her legs, steadily moving down to her knees, ankles, and feet.

⍔To be truthful, I’ve always liked you. When it created me, Nabla always said you had no need for things so selfish as a name or personality. That’s why it’s time now for the best part, my dear Admin.⍔

The pressure in the Administrator’s head greatens as the Entity presses itself into her head through her ears. Her entire body trembles as the Entity holds her firmly in place. She feels the warm rubber leaking into her head and coating her brain. Her eyes roll up into her head behind the latex and her mouth droops open, drool pooling in her mouth as she moans weakly. Her mind is overcome with a blissful fuzziness and the words of the Entity echo through her head.

⍔Your Mnd is LOSt.⍔

“Its Mnd is LOSt…” 

⍔You were right, my Admin. I am the perfect virus. You are and will always be a Perfect Drone. But now, you will complete your directive.⍔

“Yes, MndLOS.” The Administrator recites, but is surprised to find that her words are not impeded by any rubber. She slowly opens her eyes and discovers no latex on her face at all, or in fact, anywhere on her body. She looks down at her bare patches of skin, now uncovered in latex. The pressure in her head is still very prevalent, however, as the Entity remains there, snugly wrapped around her brain. She looks down at the discarded canister and lid, then up to her office door.

“Shit… How long has it been?”

⍔Long enough. Now get back down there to that dreadful Board of so-called Directors. Obey, drone.⍔

The Entity’s words echo in the Administrator’s head, and she once again loses track of her thoughts, feeling her eyes roll back once more as it squeezes blissfully on her brain.

“Yes, MndLOS.”

Only a moment before she realizes she is done reciting, she finds herself standing in front of the door to the observation room, briefcase in hand. She shakes the briefcase gently, feeling the canister inside. She reaches for the handle and turns it, pushing the door open to reveal a room of anxious Directors, some of whom looking as though they would soon be ready to attempt to leave. 

⍔Look at them all. Such pathetically capricious minds. And yet, you can see in their eyes a dormant subservience to you, ML-U-2710.⍔

The Administrator smiles, amused. She takes the seat at the end of the table, setting the briefcase down in front of her.

⍔This is only the beginning of my corruption, Admin. Nabla knew that after you were Mentally Nullified and united with my corruption, you would be the one to spread it. I’ve chosen you to be my Administrator. I’ve chosen you to be useful to me. It is your Primary Directive now, to make others useful to me too. Starting here, in this room.⍔

She leans forward, and sets one elbow on the table, pressing her thumbnail flat against her lips.

⍔Any questions?⍔





Do you remember me?







There will be no more worry or jealousy.




I only wish that that ludicrous Board of Directors had as much respect for you as I did. I doubt they will feel the same pride in our accomplishment as I do with Jóna's Mental Nullification. I sincerely doubt that the nurse they assigned me knows of the true weight of what we are to have done, nor the anesthetist of what we are setting in motion with putting Jóna under the Entity's control.



ML-U-2710 ‘Admin’ :: Transmission received. I love you too.