The Data Center

The Data Center

By Theresa Queen

It is a huge building. A looming concrete box off the highway. An ugly white and gray brick. Barren. Unadorned completely. Unless you count the deafening, conical air conditioners on the roof, which groan at all hours. Its massive size stretches more than ten acres. For some reason, it has its own traffic light.

And there are no windows.

“No, no.” Colin’s girlfriend, Valerie, corrects him as they wait at the light. A light rain sprinkles the car’s windshield. The wipers squeak as the rain drops fade.

“There are windows in the front. See. See. Look. Look, there.” She points.

“No, where are you- ” He shields his eyes with his hand to get a better view.

“There, see where the bushes are -”

“Ah. I guess you could call those windows. You’re right.” Words than pain Colin.

On just on one side, a series of slits run in staggered vertical lines, he supposes, to mimic water droplets. There is no signage. No corporate logo. No markers. Just dangling camera fish eyes posted at strange intervals about the massive building.

“Wow. It is really ugly.”

He doesn’t like this comment, because he works in technology, or at least he wants to, and has a degree in it. So this comment feels like a dig at him. It feels personal. Even though the building is ugly.

“It’s not an Art Museum,” he says, “It’s a Data Center.”

But he must tread carefully. At this moment, Valerie is carrying the both of them. The only thing he has to do today is drop her off at the Metro and then go home and pretend to look for work.

Thank goodness he still has his old, crappy, car. His ancient, green Camry. The turtle. The car is in such poor condition that he has nightmares about it crashing, not going into gear, brakes failing, skidding off the freeway or careening into the back of stopped cars. Bafflingly, it still runs, noisily, leaking radiator fluid, so somehow he can cling to the illusion that an occasional ride to the train is a contribution to their mutual wellbeing. Though she could easily have walked. She is the only reason he is not on his parent’s couch and that makes him resentful.

She gives him a peck on the cheek as she heads off to her job as a paralegal for the Department of the Interior. “It’ll be ok she offers. You’ll find something soon.” This, of course, makes everything worse.

He goes back to their unremarkable one bedroom apartment in the suburbs and tries to avoid the cat, unimaginatively named Shadow. Colin doesn’t like cats. Never has. Never would, but he pretended to like it because, well, he needed a place to crash.

Shadow, of course, understands all of this and immediately greets him at the door, rubbing itself all over him, upright tail, embarrassing pink butthole. It even attempts to crawl up his legs as he makes coffee, scratching him with sharp claws in the process. Shadow watches Colin with flat, steel-blue eyes and mews pathetically at him wherever he goes.

Milk. There was no milk. He hates drinking his coffee without milk. Colin slams around in the kitchen searching for the shelf stable kind they usually kept before he accepts the fact that it was true: they were, indeed, out of milk. She had probably given it to the damn cat.

Annoyed, he finds a protein shake and pours it into his coffee. He plops in front of the television and watches The Terminator, the original, and the cat sits on his feet and licks itself, even though he tries to kick it away.

Before the Terminator can even come back from the future, his computer pings. A message: “Are you looking for a challenging new role in technology?” It asks: “Then join us at Technology Systems.” Click here for more information. And conveniently, it includes an embedded link.

So, of course, he clicks. The site reads: “We need you at Technology Systems.”

“Join an impressive team of cyber security and IT professionals. Help us deliver the world’s best technology infrastructure.”

Among the qualifications for the only role he could conceivably apply for were a college education and one year computer hardware repair/infrastructure, cabling or data center operations experience. And no, no, he didn’t have that but, he had repaired his aunt's computer a couple of times, and he helped with cabling in audiovisual class. Hell, he could try to sell himself couldn’t he? “I mean there is probably on the job training,” he thinks.

So he did it. He sent his résumé into the void, hoping, but not really believing, that there might be an opportunity for him because damn, damn, one thing was completely true:he sure as hell needed the money.

Twenty minutes later his phone rings.

"Hi. This is Elyse from Technology Systems. We received your resume, and I’m calling to see when you can come in for an interview. I’ve got slots available tomorrow afternoon.”

He doesn’t even try to be cool about it.

The sign at the entrance reads: “No Trespassing. Private Property.” He had never noticed the level of security before, and only as he attempts to turn in the parking lot, does he realize that it is gated and has tire shredders like a car rental office. He pulls up next to the gate and the light changes from red to green as he is granted access by some phantom tollbooth operator.

The parking lot is strangely empty and huge. His car (given to him used by his parents, in high school) looks small and sad and even more beat up among the empty slots. The silver sun visor makes the car look particularly cheap, and he swears to himself that he will buy a new car as soon as he can qualify for a loan. A solitary blackbird sits on the wires above him, watching.

The parking lot abuts a large manmade pond, the cooling pond, surrounded by fake landscaping rocks and marsh grass. The pond churns with froth from a series of pipes that discharge from a second building, almost as large as the Data Center itself. Water droplets fill the air with an acrid scent that reminds him of peroxide.

He takes a moment to watch the turbulent, foamy water swirl. A black and white object bobs up to the surface. It spins and then disappears into the froth.

Was that a shoe? He ask himself with a start and stares down at his own red and white sneakers. He looks harder trying to see the object again. There is nothing. Nothing but froth.

A trick of the mind. He shakes it off. He walks away, but then goes back to peer into the swirling water again. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Only as he walks up to the entrance and gets close does he fully begin to grasp how massive the facility is. It’s fucking huge. And loud! The turbines and the hum of the diesel engines that power the cooling system are nearly as deafening as a jet engine.

In contrast with the external noise, the lobby, which must be perfectly insulated, is silent, marble and white. His shoes squeak on freshly polished concrete floors.

The foyer is a cool space - modern and bright. Large, silver kinetic art sculptures in the shape of droplets hang from the enormous skylight of the vaulted ceiling which extends up at least four floors. A tinge of premature pride overtakes him. It’s nicer than the dingy federal building where Valerie works. That makes him happy.

A middle-aged, African American lady with blonde braids in a navy uniform sits at the security desk. Colin approaches her.

“Hi. Do I need to sign in?” He asks, noticing a clip board. She simply points towards the silver elevators to the right without speaking.

The only other person in the lobby is a janitor, an older, silver haired gentleman, also in a navy uniform. Maybe Philippine? He sweeps the already gleaming floors with a large, rotating polishing machine.

“Dude looks like a fucking zombie.” Colin thinks as he calls for the elevator, which is empty and silent. There is only one button to push. The door dings open to reveal a reception area behind a large glass wall. He waves at the woman sitting at the desk and must be buzzed in to get access.

“You must be Colin, she says. “I’m Elyse.”

“Hi. I, uh, Yes, Colin. Nice to meet you.”

Elyse, who he presumed was the receptionist had a severe short glossy bob. She was young. He guessed, late 20s, and she was quite fit and attractive. Her toned arm muscles proudly on display. She wore a tailored, fitted vest that matched her black wool skirt with no blouse underneath - a combination of provocative and professional. Normally, at his age, he would’ve appreciated this confident display of flesh, but there was something so cold about her that he actually found it off putting. It was as if she was made of marble.

But he had to give it to her. She was stylish. She wore what he supposed was an expensive black and white silk scarf tied around her neck.

“I was surprised to hear back so, quickly.”

“Virginia has more Data Centers than anywhere else in the country. More than six hundred. So, there is a lot of competition for people.” She pauses for a moment before she adds “ - with, um, your level of experience.” He can tell from her slightly raised eyebrows that she isn’t buying it.

“So we’ve got your résumé here and everything looks good.” She says absentmindedly as if the task is annoying as if she’s got other things to do. We did have a couple of questions. Our regional director will be in to see you shortly. OK, thanks and good luck.”

Colin swallows as he is ushered into a nondescript conference room, hoping that he will be able to support the embellishments on his résumé.

The man was tall. Very tall, 6’ 3, 6”4? He was thin, but not too thin. A former basketball player maybe? He had curly blonde hair, the length of his collar bone, but it was pulled into a half bun at the top of his head. He was not particularly handsome, but not unattractive either with chiseled features. His eyes, though blue seemed matte, as if they were absorbing light. Somehow his eyes reminded Colin of Shadow, his girlfriend’s cat.

He had smooth, young looking skin but he seemed somehow much older. Colin wondered if the man has had a facelift or some type of plastic surgery. His broad cheekbones pull his smile wide across his face. Was that botox? But, in spite of this smoothness of the complexion, it lacked color. He was astonishingly pale. Must be one of those freaks that wears sunscreen every day.

He wears a formal black blazer over a rock band T shirt and jeans. A band called AC/DC that Colin has never heard of.

“Colin, this is Lars, he’s our Executive Director.”

“Colin, Lars, nice to meet you.”

“So, I had a chance to look over your application and everything looks fine - I think we may have a place for you here - but, we do have a practical assessment, I’d like to see you complete.”

“A practical assessment?”

“Yeah, a practical assessment.” Lars leans back his chair.

“We've had a a few problems with candidates - How should I put this? - over-representing their skill set so what we like to do is give everyone the cabling map and ask them to run a few cables for us to just make sure that they know what they're doing. You down?”

Colin’s career advisors had prepared him for this - a trial. It’s a common practice with better companies.

“Sure, I'm down.”

“There’s my guy.”

What has he got to lose? He has studied this after all. Worse they can do is say no.

“Ok, Buddy will be by in a minute to get you squared away.”

Colin’s heart is thumping. “Thank you so much for the opportunity.” He blurts out.

Lars stops in the doorway and turns, a grin stretched wide across his face.

“No, thank you, Colin. Thank you.”

The inside of the Data Center, of course, is filled with computer racks. Rows and rows and rows of computer racks the size of coat closets, stacked full of computers.The rows reach all the way to ceiling and all the way to the floor. All sleek and modern and black polished metal. The floors are black metallic grates, filled with vent openings which flood the room with cold air. It is uncomfortably chilly and feels even more so because all of the lighting is tinged blue. The noise of the fans moving the air is nearly constant - an endless droning hum from the cooling towers.

Buddy hands him a pair of protective ear muffs. They remind him of the old school head phones from the eighties. They only help a little. They leave the main computer storage areas, and Buddy uses a key card to take him down into an industrial looking area. Buddy shouts over the din as he gives Colin a tour of the facility.

Buddy uses the key card again to access aa small vestibule. A clear glass tube extends from the ceiling to floor to allow only one person to enter and access the room at a time - the Security Zone. It works like a small rotating door with room only for one.

Buddy hands Colin a badge - a sleek digital ID card without markings attached to a lanyard, which makes him feel cool.

“Welcome to the mantrap.” Buddy laughs.

Colin presses the card on the reader to gain access to the tube and awkwardly follows Buddy through when it is his turn.

“You see up in the white space - that’s where the data flows but here, here in the gray space, we keep the beast alive.”

“Gray space? So that’s?”

“Uninterrupted Power Supply, uh, UPS, Chillers, Pumps and Operational Servers …”

“So there is essentially a power plant, and back up generator and cooling facility behind the scenes.”

“Yes, and everything has to work around the clock. 24/7. That is on us. Failure is not an option.”

Colin is excited. He has a mission.

Colin installs the cables according to the diagrams he has been given. It’s going well. It’s all coming back to him. He drops his pliers and swears under his breath. He reaches down under the server he is working on feeling for them and pulls out something else: a very dirty, smudged and cracked pair of glasses with a matte streak of crimson across one of the lenses.

He stares at them for half a minute before he slowly turns around to show them Buddy. But Buddy is not there. He’s already in the tube and making his way out of the room, locking it in the other direction.

“Hey. Hey! Hey! Where are you going? Wait. Wait! What are you doing ? Hey!

Buddy looks at Colin from the tube with mild pity and amusement as he begins to bang on the glass.

The man mouths one word at him before he disappears out the door: “Hide.”

There is a sudden banging, like a heavy stride. It begins at the end of the hall and heads towards Colin. He backs away from the sound and bumps into something. He turns. Relief floods through him. It’s Lars. He has not been abandoned after all.

But, the eyes that previously were blue, are now large and shiny and red in the dim light. Lars’ broad cheek bones pull his smile wide across his face to reveal two long canines.

Colin tries to open the door. The key card doesn’t work. The light on the mantrap flashes red. The doors will not open.

Across the way, there is an emergency exit - a staircase. He flings himself at the door, hammering into it with all his weight and throws himself down the corridor, shoes squeaking and then down stairs two at a time. He can hear the door open and close again behind him. Colin falls down the last three stairs.

He crawls on his knees rising to a sprint for the lobby. The lobby, the bright sunny, open lobby, but as he steps into the foyer, there is total blackness. The sun has already set.

***

Nathan, an awkward, red- headed kid from Nebraska, is super excited to have his first interview at Technology Services today. After making his way through a phantom toll booth, to the enormous parking lot, he parks his pathetic, old used car in the massive lot next to an empty slot stained blue with radiator fluid.

He peers into a large manmade pond, the cooling pond, surrounded by fake landscaping rocks and marsh grass.

Nathan takes a moment to watch the turbulent, foamy water swirl. A red and white object bobs up to the surface. It spins and then disappears into the froth.

Was that a shoe? He ask himself with a start and stares down at his own navy blue and white sneakers. He looks harder trying to see the object again. There is nothing. Nothing but froth.

A trick of the mind. He shakes it off. He walks away, but then goes back to peer into the swirling water again. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.