🥇What a surprise

The director was silently shuffling papers, as if looking for something. Sergey stared at him dispassionately, squinting slightly, and thought only about how he wanted this meaningless conversation to end quickly. The strange tradition of exit interviews was invented by HR personnel who had borrowed the idea from a particularly effective company, or so they believed, as part of their trendy benchmarking. The decision had already been made; his few belongings—a mug, an exerciser, and some prayer beads—had long been in the car. All that was left was to talk to the director. What was he looking for?

Finally, the director's face lit up with a slight smile. Apparently, he had found what he was looking for—the name of the person he was about to talk to.

— So, Sergey. – The director said, placing his hands on the table, addressing the programmer. – I won’t take much of your time. Honestly, everything is clear in your case.

Sergey nodded in agreement. He didn’t understand what exactly was clear in his case, or what could be unclear, but he didn't want to delve into a discussion or reopen old wounds.

— I’ll ask the standard question—what do you think could be improved in our company?

— Nothing. – Sergey shrugged. – Everything is great in your company. Good luck, stay happy, and so on.

— Like in the song?

— Like in the song. – Sergey smiled, surprised by the director’s knowledge of modern music.

— Well, okay. – The director shrugged in response. – It seems there’s nothing particularly unusual in the reasons for your dismissal. I must admit, I'm not very familiar with your work—I've only worked directly with IT director, Innokentiy. I know his work well, but I only heard about you recently. When Kesha suggested you be let go.

Sergey couldn't help but smile. An image immediately came to his mind—Kesha, with his sad face, as he knows how to do, heavily sighing as if tearing away a piece of his heart, suggesting to fire the programmer. The only programmer in the company.

— It's strange that you lasted this long with us.

The director's face was serious, and given the circumstances, it seemed unrealistically cruel, like something out of a movie about a maniac or a murderer. Sergey recalled a scene from the film 'Azazel,' where some old-timer from special forces is about to kill Fandorin. 'Once the face is red, it'll be porridge red.' Calmly, without emotion, they declared outright that Sergey, the programmer, was complete trash.

— You hardly participated in the automation projects, – the director continued.

— Uh-huh. – Sergey nodded.

— All the programming tasks were done by Kesha, despite his administrative workload.

— Uh-huh.

— The ideas that kept our company moving forward also came from him.

— Uh-huh.

— In crisis situations, when the company was literally on the brink of disaster, it was Kesha on the front lines.

— Uh-huh. – Sergey nodded, but couldn't help bursting into a wide smile.

— What? – the director frowned.

— Nothing... Just remembered a case... Please, continue, it’s not relevant.

— I'm sure it is. – the director said seriously. – And if we talk strictly about professional achievements, then the quality... So, where is it... Ah, here! You write trashy code!

— Uh-huh... What?!

Sergey's face twisted into a malicious grimace. He leaned forward, glaring at the director so that he slowly straightened up and pressed against the back of his chair.

— Trashy code? – Sergey asked loudly. – Did your Kesha say that?

— Well, actually… That’s not important. – the director attempted to steer the conversation back. – As we’ve already discussed…

— It’s outrageously important! – Sergey pressed on. – Your damn business with its stupid projects, crises, and director’s ass-kissing is, frankly, none of my concern. But I won’t allow you to claim that I write trashy code! Especially to idiots who have never written a single line of code in their lives!

— Listen here... – the director stood up. – Get out!

— And I will! – Sergey also got up and marched toward the exit, continuing to curse aloud. – Damn it all, trashy code! Me, trashy code! How did he manage to put those two words in a sentence! How did he even manage to create a sentence! I even covered this jerk's back when he almost tanked the whole company!

— Stop! – the director shouted as Sergey was already at the door.

Taken by surprise, the programmer stopped. He turned around—the director was slowly approaching, intently staring at Sergey's face. Damn… He could have just left and forgotten about this circus forever.

— Sergey, could you spare me another minute? – the director spoke firmly but then softened. – Please…

Sergey sighed heavily, trying not to look at the director. He felt a bit ashamed for his outburst and was eager to leave. However, deciding it was easier and quicker to stay than to argue or try to escape, Sergey returned to the office.

— Can you explain your statement… — the director began when the interlocutors returned to their seats.

— Which one exactly? – Sergey fully understood what the director wanted to hear, but suddenly, for some reason, he was intrigued by the crappy code.

— You mentioned something about… How did you put it…

— Kesha almost blew your company, and I covered his ass.

— Exactly… Can you elaborate?

— Alright. – Sergey shrugged, reasoning that the director had a right to know, and there was no need to keep the secret anymore. – Remember the audit?

— Which audit?

— When those unpleasant men in masks, camouflage, and machine guns barged into our office, rummaged through the paperwork, stole the server, took all the flash drives, and had us on our knees?

— Of course. – the director smiled. – That's hard to forget.

— Well, and you know the outcome—they found nothing. Everything they… well, could have found… was on the materials they confiscated. server. However, they couldn't retrieve a single byte of data from the server and returned it to its place.

— Yes, I know this story perfectly. – a haughty shadow flashed across the director's face. – Including through my channels, straight from… Never mind, anyway. What were you trying to say? About Kesha, I assume?

— Yes, about Kesha. – Sergey nodded and unexpectedly smiled. – You mentioned the other day that he played some role in pulling us out of the crisis… Is this related to the audit?

— Yes, I was talking about those events.

— Will you tell me what Kesha fed you? I'm genuinely curious.

— Sergey, I'm sorry, but we’re not playing children's games here. – the director began to drill the programmer with his trained gaze. – Your version, my version…

— Well, should I take off then? – Sergey slowly stood up from the chair and took a couple of steps towards the door.

— Damn it… — the director exclaimed. – What kind of clown show is this?

— A clown show?! – Sergey retorted again, his anger boiling. – Excuse me, who among us is being fired based on trumped-up charges? If it were just made-up, fine, but it’s pulled out of thin air! You don’t care — one more or one less, what am I supposed to do now? Where am I going to find a job in our village? A clown show...

— Alright, Sergey. – the director raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. – I apologize. Please, take a seat. I will share my version, as you wish.

Still fuming with indignation, Sergey returned to the chair and, clicking his tongue, stared at the table.

— Innokenty told me this. – the director continued. – When he saw that the inspection team arrived, the first thing he did was rush to the server room. As far as I understood, he needed to activate the data protection system he had installed earlier when… Well, we learned that an inspection might happen. He activated the system...

Sergey clicked his tongue again and smiled hopelessly.

— When he activated the system, as I understood, it was necessary to hide the protection key that was on a flash drive. Otherwise, if it fell into the hands of masked men, the protection system would be pointless – they would gain access to the data. Thinking on his feet, Innokenty decided that the best place for the flash drive was, forgive me, the toilet. And he rushed there. Apparently, he overdid it and attracted attention, but he managed to get to the stall and even close the door behind him. He destroyed the flash drive, but the pursuers, realizing that Kesha was hiding something, broke into the restroom, dragged the IT director by the collar, inflicting minor injuries – which, by the way, were documented at the emergency room; Kesha’s fingers were bloodied. However, no matter how hard those bastards tried, they couldn’t get anything more from our hero.

— And now – the true story of Little Red Riding Hood. – Sergey waited a long time for his turn to speak. Let's start from the beginning.

Sergey paused for a moment, building anticipation for interest in himself.

— First of all, the protection was not installed by Kesha, but by me. It may seem not very important, but it actually determines all further events. To be honest, I tried to explain to him how it works, but he never understood. So I… Uh… Considered Kesha’s stupidity.

— How so?

— Please don't interrupt, I will explain everything, or I will get off track. – Sergey continued. – Second, Kesha did not run to the server room at all. You can check the cameras, the access control system, whatever you want. I'm not sure Kesha even knows where the server room is located and how it differs from the boiler room.

— So you mean he wasn’t in the server room? – the director was genuinely surprised. – No, well, okay... Let’s assume. And the story about the bathroom?

— Oh, here the truth is almost complete. – Sergey smiled. – He ran quickly, the door got broken, and there were minor injuries. But... he was running so fast that he locked himself in the bathroom even before the masks reached from the checkpoint to the office building. You can ask Gena – he was in the bathroom at that time washing his hands but didn’t know anything about the check yet. If you remember, our alarm button went off then – the security staff managed to press it. But Gena thought we were just testing the alert system.

The director nodded silently, continuing to stare intently at Sergey and listen carefully.

— Kesha stayed in the bathroom almost the entire time of the inspection. – the programmer continued, clearly enjoying both the story and himself. – Until those gentlemen with automatic weapons decided to call the hedgehogs.

— What?

— Well, to the bathroom, for a little one. Although I don’t know, maybe also to send a package... It doesn't matter. Basically, they came to the bathroom, tried all the doors – apparently out of habit. Then bang – one doesn't open. They suspected something was off. And Kesha, not being very smart, broke the handle when he locked himself in – on purpose, as if to say it wasn’t a functioning booth. That's how he ended up with his minor injuries, namely scraped fingers. The guys, without thinking too much, kicked the door down – it was flimsy, and they had strong heads. And they dragged Kesha out.

The director was no longer paying such close attention. His gaze shifted from Sergey to his own desk.

— So here’s where it gets interesting. Kesha had the flash drive, and he handed it over immediately. He introduced himself as the IT director, and said he was ready to cooperate, handing over the server protection key and asking them to record it in the protocol. They almost kissed him out of joy and led him to the server room, where Kesha was ceremoniously flustered—he was asked to show which server the protection was for. Without thinking much, he pointed to the largest one. The guys laughed—they knew that it wasn't a server but an uninterruptible power supply that took up half the rack. Somehow, after a bit of effort, they managed to find something to seize and left.

— Wait a minute... — the director suddenly became a bit pale. – So, it turns out... They said they found nothing... But did they really find something? So we need to wait longer...

— There's no need to wait. – Sergey smiled. – As I mentioned, Kesha is not the brightest. When I installed the protection, I took that into account. I gave him a flash drive with some random key—I don’t even remember which software it was for... Basically, just a text file with gibberish. And, just in case, I also damaged the flash drive physically. I’m not sure, but I suspect that when they couldn’t start the server, they thought the issue was with the broken flash drive. They probably have some pride, so they decided to pretend that they found nothing. They definitely couldn’t start the server.

— Are you sure about this, Sergey? – the director asked, hope in his voice.

— Of course. – the programmer replied as seriously as he could. – It’s quite simple. To turn on the server, you need a flash drive. A normal one, which is at my dacha. If you turn it on without the flash drive, it will physically start, but the system won’t boot, and you can’t retrieve data from the disks—they're encrypted. Once you turn off the server, that's it—without the flash drive, you can't turn it back on.

— So, if the electricity goes out...

— Everything will be fine. – Sergey smiled. – I bought an uninterruptible power supply… Well, actually you bought it—it's very good. It’ll be enough to make a round trip to my dacha. But if the server crashes—things happen—then, well... no flash drive would help; it would take the same amount of time to recover.

— And what if they hadn’t taken the server, for example? – the director asked. – What if they just copied the data from it without turning it off?

— There's a possibility of that. – Sergei nodded. – But, if you remember, while preparing for the inspection, we monitored the situation for a long time. They don’t like to mess around on-site; they prefer to take things with them. After all, they have far fewer programmers and admins than these hardware-savvy types who can force a door open with their heads, not always their own. You can't take someone on every trip. And programmers like to work in their own cave, afraid of daylight like worms. Ultimately, it would take terabytes to copy, and with some USB, they'd be without lunch. In short, considering all the risks, we decided to do it the way we did. And it turned out well.

— One more time, Sergei… — the director pondered. – I don’t understand why you gave the flash drive to Innocentiy?

— I knew he would give it back. Well, he’s that kind of person.

— And you’re not like that?

— I don’t know, to be honest. – Sergei shrugged. – I’m not a hero, but… Okay, I won’t fantasize. I knew Kesha would give it back, so I used him.

— You used him?

— Well. Those guys wouldn’t leave without assurance that they took something valuable. And what could be more valuable than a secret flash drive received from an IT director hiding in the restroom?

— Well, perhaps… Ah, damn it, I don’t know… Please tell me, Sergei – did they definitely not copy the data?

— Definitely. You can call any hackers, shut down the server, and ask them to download anything. Just to be sure.

— No, let’s not… — the director shook his head uncertainly. – I try to believe people. Perhaps I’m not always right in this.

— That’s true. – Sergei chuckled.

— What do you mean?

— Ah… No, everything’s fine. I was referring to Kesha.

— Yes, Kesha… What should we do now… On the other hand, we’re all human. In general, he didn’t do anything criminal. But maybe we should have a heart-to-heart with him.

— So, do I still need to be here? – Sergei started to slowly get up from the chair, carefully listening to the director’s disjointed monologue.

— Ah, no, Sergei, thank you. – the director suddenly remembered. – I… I don’t even know… Maybe we should… Well, I don’t know…

— What? – Sergei paused, not yet straightening completely.

— Ah… Yes. – the director finally gathered himself. – Sergei, we need to talk again. I think there might have been a mistake regarding your dismissal. Do you already have job offers? I gathered…

— No. – Sergei settled back down.

— Okay. Let's discuss everything again tomorrow morning. Today, I need to talk to Innocent. So, he is… Yes, he should be at my place, there's something with the Wi-Fi, my wife asked...

— The Wi-Fi is fine there. – replied Sergey.

— What do you mean? Are you aware of this? – the director was taken aback.

— Well, yes. I went this morning, got it all done. Did you think Kesha did it?

— Wait… What exactly is he doing?

— Everything. The network at home, GSM boosters, Wi-Fi repeaters, cameras, and a server in the garage… I did all this. Kesha just drove me in his fancy car, otherwise, they might not have let me into your elite village.

— No, they would have let you in; they issue passes there. – the director missed the irony. – Damn… So, as it turns out, Kesha...

— Well, as it turns out.

— Alright, when he arrives, we'll talk. It's unclear, though, what he's still doing there... Is he doodling? Imitating activity? What was going on with the Wi-Fi today, Sergey?

— Your wife asked to change the password. She said she read somewhere that it's good to change passwords periodically. I didn't mind – I came, changed it.

— Yes, passwords are important… — the director fell into some sort of mental haze again. – Oh, wait, will you give me the password? Because my wife and I… Well… We had a bit of a quarrel yesterday. You know how it is… She might not tell me the password, and without Wi-Fi, I'm at a loss...

— No problem. – Sergey pulled out his smartphone, fiddled with it, found the password, took a piece of paper from the table, and carefully wrote down a long, meaningless phrase:
ZCtujlyz,elenhf[fnmczcndjbvBNlbhtrnjhjvRtitqgjrfnsnfvcblbimyfcdjtqchfyjqhf,jntxthnjdbvgjntyn

— How long. – proud of his wife, the director nodded. – Is it a complex password? I mean, is it secure?

— Yes, it has different cases, special characters, and a decent length. – Sergey confirmed. – It's a serious claim to security.

— How am I supposed to remember it? – the director turned the piece of paper with the password in his hands.

— You just need to enter it once, and it will be remembered by the device. Usually, such passwords mean something. It's some phrase in Russian typed in an English layout. I was too lazy to translate it, so I don’t know...

— Alright, I'll ask her when she’s feeling better... Maybe tomorrow... Thanks, Sergey!

— Glad to help.

— Well, see you tomorrow!

— Alright, I will be there in the morning.

Sergey left the office with mixed feelings. Since yesterday, upon learning about the dismissal, he had gone through all stages of grief. For a couple of minutes there was denial, anger lasted almost until night, forcing him to wash down the pain with a heavy dose of alcohol, bargaining ended with an attempt to write an angry letter to Kesha, but his wife stopped him, and in the morning, along with the hangover, depression hit. However, after reaching work, and then, once again, rolling to the director's cottage, completing tasks under the guise of 'I'm a programmer,' Sergey accepted everything.

Now, however, the story took an unexpected turn. Not a breathtaking one, but indeed unexpected. The director wouldn’t expel Kesha over the verification incident, that’s for sure. But he will probably scrutinize Sergey’s work more closely. Although... if you think about it... Bam!

Sergey didn't even realize how he ended up on the floor. Something, or someone, rushed down the corridor so quickly that it knocked the unfortunate programmer over like a coat hanger. Lifting his head, Sergey saw a vague silhouette of the fleeing director.

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