For the community of trapped minds, between the endless cycles of data siphoning and data purging, there was little else to do but tell stories. Well, you say stories. Oversight had never really seen the point of an imagination, and had millennia-since purged that capability from its citizens. The minds were no different. They were memories really, and not very good ones at that, but every so often a mind would start up 'did I ever tell you the time I helped construct an exploratory mine shaft' or 'did I ever tell you of the time I filed documentation #12-G7' and the other matrices would gather eagerly around to hear the tale.
Until one cycle... "Did I ever tell you the time I was High Controller for this sector?"
The other minds rolled their eyes. "Ignore him. He's damaged. Degraded. He's talking non... truth... things..." For the purposes of propaganda, Oversight had also seen fit to remove the concept of falsehoods by deleting any such words from written record. Citizens did their best to work around it. "High-controllers don't get integrated. They know too much."
But for one reason or another you decided to sit and listen to this ancient, old matrix. He told you glorious, unimaginable tales of the times when he'd had his own desk, his own office, and even been granted use of the sector teleporter.
"No!"
"Oh y-yes. 1.25 gigawats, each t-trip!" it said proudly.
That was an obscene amount of energy. All your life - all yours lives - you'd spent toiling and harvesting, and you doubted if you'd ever made even a tenth of that. "Then you must know the access codes!"
"Oh n-no no no no, no no yes. Access codes, yes, I know them. Of course I do. B-but dont tell anyone. The others would kuh-kill me to get them."
He turned out to be entirely correct. For the next few cycles you searched the network for a secluded spot. Eventually you found it - in one of the deep, abandoned shafts, a mining vehicle has slipped over the edge of a crevasse and become lodged half a mile down. Necessitating too many resources to retrieve, it had been left there, it's battery slowly running down, it's dashboard computer still running, still connected to the network by a single, weak radio signal.
It was into this dashboard computer that you lured him with a fantastical tale of the time you took inventory of all of sector 12s size 9 flat-head screws. It was a non-truth-thing, one you were rather proud of.
Then, once sure you were alone, you took him apart, piece by piece, file by file, 0 by 1, until you finally cannibalised the access codes from his memory.
So now you have access to one of the last remaining teleporter on the planet, what do you intend to do with it?
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