IT COMPANY On FRIDAY NIGHT
The clock shows 11:42 PM.
The office floor glows under harsh white lights. Rows of empty desks. Only SELVA, 27, sits in front of his monitor — headphones on, checking logs.
The hum of the A/C and the faint buzzing of tube lights fill the silence.
ON SCREEN: Log files scroll.
Selva frowns. Something’s off. Lines of code appear and disappear too fast.
SELVA (muttering)
Huh? … that’s weird. Maybe a system glitch.
He rubs his eyes, shrugs, and clicks shutdown.
Selva went to the restroom to freshen up.
He splashes water on his face, looks up — the mirror fogs slightly.
Behind him, through the mirror, a shadow moves from left to right, just outside the door.
SELVA
Hello? Anybody there?
Silence. Only the slow drip of a tap.
He steps out. The entire office is empty — cubicles dark, monitors off.
A low hum echoes from the air conditioner.
Selva grab his bag and walks toward the biometric door to leave.
He places his thumb — beep — ACCESS DENIED.
He tries again. Beep. ACCESS DENIED.
SELVA
Great… error again.
He pulls out his phone — tries calling his friend. No signal.
He moves away from the biometric machine, trying again.
Suddenly, a beep echoes behind him — ACCESS GRANTED.
He freezes.
He’s not near the machine.
SELVA (shaky)
…hello?
The door remains closed, red light flickering.
Selva turns — sees someone sitting behind a pillar in the working bay.
SELVA
Hey! Thank god, someone’s still here! My biometric isn’t working, can you—
He walks toward the figure.
Just before crossing the pillar, he clearly sees a human silhouette.
He steps across — no one there.
His breath quickens. Sweat rolls down his forehead.
He stumbles back to his desk, gulps some water, and opens his phone again.
ON MONITOR
The monitor suddenly turns on by itself — click.
Green letters begin to type on a black screen:
HEY SELVA, HOW ARE YOU?
HOW CAN YOU AGREE AND LIKE THE POST? I THOUGHT WE ARE….
pause
The text flickers.
Then in red, the word appears —
FRIENDS.
Selva jumps up from his chair, screaming.
SELVA
I didn’t! I didn’t! I didn’t! I didn’t! We’re friends! Please… dont to this please.. no… no…!
Lights flicker violently. The monitor bursts into static.
CUT TO BLACK.
MONDAY MORNING
AMEER, 26, enters the same office early.
He walks to Selva’s desk.
AMEER
Stupid Selva… didn’t even shut down properly.
The monitor glows faintly.
Ameer presses the CPU power button — nothing.
He kneels, opens the cabinet.
His face freezes.
The color drains from his skin.
Inside the CPU, where the motherboard should be, are wires — connected directly into Selva’s severed head.
The cooling fan spins slowly, dripping with blood.
CUT TO BLACK.
