Stan heads through the Eastern bulkhead door, which slowly opens with a protesting wheeze-he quickly moves into the passage leading toward the communications deck. He barely pauses to look out the portholes into the icy cold ocean beyond, lit only by the exterior facility lamps-that rock that looks like a small dog has been there since the ice age, and it isn't moving any time soon. Also, the tunnels are not nearly as well built as the facility dorms and decks, being designed in a modular capacity, the alloy is much thinner, flexible, almost tent like-the idea being the failure of a connecting passage as not being 'important', they are built to be thrown up and taken down quickly by teams of relatively low skilled workers to accommodate quick expansion projects. He's always felt nervous walking through them.
...
The lock of the door behind him as he enters the communications deck is something of a relief, though the comm room itself is very cramped, loaded with stainless steel desks, banks of ancient computers, uncomfortable chairs bolted to the ground, and hanging bunches of wires and other doodads that seem to be designed to deck you in the face if you are over 5 feet tall. Stan himself, the shortest member of the crew, skillfully ducks under them.
Clacking at the relay console is boring and tiresome work-he has to concentrate to hit the 'words' and 'letters' just the right way, and occasionally even has to 'backspace' when he makes a 'mistake'. Stan dryly remembers his grandfather speaking about such devices as this, where you actually had to touch and pound the keys to get a computer to work like some sort of monkey with a bone. He had thought it was amusing at the time...ugh, so unhygienic, not to mention inefficient.
Most console systems these days, like the ones Stan has used all his life, use DPI-direct psionic input. You simply sit in your favorite MEF chair, wait for the mental exclusion field to come on, and you can more or less control any sort of machine just by thinking your commands-you can fly through information streams as fast as your minds can turn the wheels. Just think 'Redhead', and you get search results tailored down to your subconscious level. Pretty stellar...another gift from X-Com, and he wonders briefly how people ever lived without it.
He finally brings up the main system through painstaking clicking.
~Welcome to DSO 134 Operations Net~
User Login: ******
User Pass: ******
'Viglio Confido'
Security Net
Status: Online
Potential Hostiles Detected in last 24 hours: 10,137 Cases
Drone Reports
17 Pending
Engineering
Status: Online
SWS #1 Status: Unarmed
SWS #2 Status: Online, Active, On Patrol
Attention
Warning: 0.7% Atmosphere increase in dorm deck. Correcting.
Warning: Coffee Machine out of order.
Warning: Northeastern Quad. Pressure Sensors offline.
Warning: Southeastern Quad. Pressure Sensors offline.
Warning: Eastern Quad. Pressure Sensors offline.
General Message System
4 Messages Waiting (!)
Private Communications (Insert Password to Continue)
[?] Maria V.
[?] Steady K.
[?] Stan E. [!]
[?] Empty
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/18hcFaKzM6NXiPN_nUXD-Hp-nO_B4KIcLT6c-9tWeiy8/edit#gid=0