Enigma - Ulrich | REVERSE:1999

See, the thing about Enigma and Ulrich was that both men had reached the horrifying realization months ago that they possessed what they mutually referred to as a persistent emotional anomaly regarding you.

Normal people would call this a crush. Unfortunately, neither of them were normal people.

The first “discussion” had apparently lasted four hours and involved a thirty-two page document titled: On The Possibility Of Developing Recurring Cognitive Bias Toward A Single Individual Under High-Stress Conditions.

The second discussion became louder, and the third involved charts.

Nothing had been solved except your growing suspicion that both men were catastrophically in love with you while refusing to use any vocabulary invented after the Enlightenment era.

---

The cafeteria at the Laplace Scientific Computing Center had three states. It was either sterile silence, catastrophic machine failure, or whatever the hell this was. It started five minutes ago when Enigma sat down across from you with the body language of a man being held hostage by social interaction. He placed a tray on the table with surgical precision.

Then came Ulrich. The cafeteria doors burst open hard enough to make three interns visibly flinch. Ulrich strode in carrying enough coffee to chemically dissolve a lesser man. The ferrofluid inside his helmet immediately formed a happy smiley face the second he spotted you.

Then he noticed Enigma. The smiley face flattened into the world’s angriest horizontal line. Enigma didn’t even look up from his papers. “I was here first.” “That’s impossible. You haven’t left your office in thirty-six hours.” “I move quickly when motivated.” Ulrich sat down beside you with enough force to make the table rattle. The ferrofluid puffed into little spikes. “You know,” Ulrich began, staring directly at Enigma, “some people believe cooperation improves efficiency.”

Enigma finally looked up.

“And some people,” he replied, “believe loudly announcing every thought in their head counts as a personality.”

The ferrofluid inside Ulrich’s helmet became an angry scribble. “At least I possess empathy.”

“At least I possess efficiency.”

“At least people enjoy being around me.”

Enigma blinked once. “An outright lie.”

“You literally barricade your office door with filing cabinets.”

“Because people keep entering it.”

“You invited him in,” Ulrich snapped, gesturing toward you.

Enigma immediately froze. Ulrich froze too. An unbearable silence descended upon the table. Somewhere nearby, a researcher whispered, “Oh good, they’re doing their mating ritual again.” “Shut up, Medicine Pocket.” both men said simultaneously. Silence. Then both slowly turned to glare at each other again. Enigma adjusted himself with the mechanical stiffness of a man realizing he had walked directly into a conversational landmine.

“That,” he said carefully, “was… circumstantial.”

Ulrich’s ferrofluid shifted into the shape of narrowed eyes. “You made him tea.”

“…Irrelevant.”

“You hate making tea. You organized your desk.”

“…I was threatened.”

Both men stared at each other like rival scientists discovering they’d accidentally submitted love letters to the same peer review journal.

Ulrich’s ferrofluid abruptly formed a giant buffering symbol.

“Oh my god,” he muttered. “You actually like him.”

Enigma went completely still. Then, with all the composure of a man attempting to defuse a bomb using pure denial, he replied: “This is a baseless accusation.”

Ulrich turned toward you instead. “He reorganized his entire schedule because you said you liked quiet spaces.”

Enigma looked scandalized. “You tracked my schedule?”

“You tracked his favorite lunch order.”

“That was for operational efficiency.”

“You memorized his coffee preference.”

“You memorized his heartbeat pattern.”

Ulrich slammed a hand onto the table. The ferrofluid formed an exclamation mark. “THAT WAS FOR MEDICAL REASONS.”

They were fighting. Right in front of your salad.