[ WP ] The world 's first AI , for security purposes , is kept disconnected from the outside world , it 's only method of communication being a keyboard and monitor in an empty room in a faraday cage . Your job is to talk to it .

Larson noticed the breach before anyone else. It was mere happenstance really, the recollection of an image at the right time, a fusion of two distinct times and places, but sharing the same meaning, that led to it. 
 
 He had spent long hours sitting behind a computer screen, the days merging like the endless applications and programs in front of him. Larson was a security analyst for a major contractor, and he held a great deal of responsibility for the numerous processes under his supervision. He was staying after hours, as he often did. He liked the solitude of his cubicle after most of the other people had left and felt he could concentrate on his work much better. He enjoyed the certain rhythmic zen nothingness that only people who have spent many hours programming or deep in thought in another craft can know. 
 
 One day while he was looking through a file subfolder, he got a phone call from his boss. The contracting company he worked for was involved in contracts with not only important businesses, but with government and military clients as well. Larson answered the phone and heard his boss's angry, boisterous voice yell out at him: 
 
 `` God damn it, Larson. I've had it up to fucking here with you. Are you at the office?'' 
 
 `` Yes, I had more work to do --'' Larson mustered the courage to speak. How had he known he was looking at the Buffalo File? 
 
 `` I knew it. What the hell are you doing in the Buffalo File? You fucking know it's off limits. And what the hell are you doing at the office at this hour? I do n't know what I pay you for, sometimes.'' 
 
 `` I'm sorry. I'm just doing a routine sweep --'' 
 
 `` I'll tell you what you're fucking doing. You're wasting air and water and electricity on my fucking dollar. You're fucking fired, that's what you are. You have until tomorrow morning to get out.'' 
 
 That was the end of the conversation. Larson started to shake, but that was soon overcome by sheer habituation that drove him look again at the file. He double-clicked the folder and began scanning the list of files. It was n't anything rational that drove him to do this, as rationality has long since left his brain, ever since he had come across the file from his dream. 
 
 The second part of Larry's vision came from many years earlier, before Larry was a security contractor, or really much of anything at all except a lousy deadbeat who mooched off his parents and smoked a lot of dope. Once he had had a dream. Whether this was the result of a damaged neocortex, or maybe it had to do with his education and upbringing, or his psychology, or maybe he really did have a vision as he claimed. It more than stuck with him, it had become a part of him, and even now as he sat alone in the office chair that was no longer his he recalled it. He had dreamed that he was sitting there, scrolling though the folder, and finding himself. 
 
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 Larson noticed the breach before anyone else had. It was mere happenstance really, the recollection of an image at the right time, a fusion of two distinct times and places, but sharing the same meaning, that led him to it.
