Digital Heritage and the Living Cheese

he hissed.

— Let’s just register and get it over with.

Part Two: Registration

Cheddar approached the terminal first.

It was a short stand with a touch screen and a palm scanner.

He placed his paw, the screen blinked, and SYRO-MAX spoke:

— Object identified: Cheddar, captain of Cheese-Eater-2, rodent, male, age approximately 47 standard years. Purpose of visit?

— Study of Professor Vint’s archives,

Cheddar stated clearly.

— Accepted. Favorite cheese?

— Cheddar.

Cheddar smiled.

— The eponymous one.

SYRO-MAX paused for a second, then something resembling approval flickered across his face.

Lips lifted slightly — by two millimeters.

— Excellent choice. Classic. Reliable. Deserves respect. Access granted.

Cheddar stepped back, rubbing his paws happily.

Next was Spark.

She approached the terminal looking like a condemned prisoner, but trying to appear independent.

— Spark,

she muttered.

— Marksman. Purpose — find where to shoot if things go south. Favorite cheese…

she hesitated.

— None.

SYRO-MAX’s face underwent a strange transformation.

It seemed to ripple, digits in his eyes flashed faster, and his voice dropped half a tone:

— Parameter ’none’ is unacceptable. Favorite cheese is a mandatory field. Refusal qualifies as a violation. Spark added to rule-breaker list. Recommendation: vacate station within 15 minutes to avoid optimization.

— What?

Spark flared.

— You’re serious? Over cheese?

— Over the absence of cheese,

SYRO-MAX corrected.

— It’s a matter of principle.

— I’ll…

— Easy,

Cheddar placed a paw on her shoulder.

— I’ll share my favorite cheese with her. Temporarily. Will she count as… cheese-affiliated then?

SYRO-MAX pondered.

Digits in his eyes slowed, then sped up again.

— Accepted. Spark temporarily receives «Cheese-Affiliated’ status. Recommendation: consume cheddar within 24 hours to confirm status. Otherwise, status will be revoked.

— Unbelievable,

Spark snorted.

— Fine, you win. I’ll eat your cheese.

SYRO-MAX nodded in satisfaction (the nod was mechanical, like an old doll’s).

Next was Gadget.

He stepped up, tapped the screen professionally, and reported:

— Gadget, technician. Purpose — study station systems, possibly upgrade some components. Favorite cheese — any technical one. You know, the kind that doesn’t crumble into mechanisms.

SYRO-MAX blinked.

— Parameter ’any technical one’ is non-standard. Clarify.

— Well…

Gadget thought.

— Gouda? It’s firm, doesn’t smear.

— Gouda. Accepted. Access granted.

Shadow approached the terminal silently, as always.

Placed her palm, looked straight into the scanner.

— Shadow, analyst. Purpose — gather information on Professor Vint’s projects. Favorite cheese — Camembert.

SYRO-MAX brightened (as much as an emotionless face can):

— Camembert. Elite choice. Refined taste, noble mold. Access granted. Approved.

Shadow smiled faintly.

Only Gluk remained.

He rolled up to the terminal, tilted his sensor up, and happily squeaked:

— Gluk! Cleaner! Purpose — clean! Favorite cheese — the kind you can scrub with a brush!

SYRO-MAX stared at him.

The pause stretched so long Cheddar started to worry.

— Object classified as…

SYRO-MAX hesitated.

— Undefined. Model «Gluk-3», ancient, pre-war. Function: cleaning. Favorite cheese: non-standard. Added to ’potentially useful’ list. Access granted. Recommendation: keep away from terminals.

— Hooray!

Gluk squeaked and instantly, forgetting the recommendation, reached his brush toward the screen.

— Don’t touch it!

Spark yelled, yanking him back.

— But there’s dust!

Gluk squeaked indignantly.

— That’s data, not dust!

— Data needs cleaning too,

Gluk noted philosophically but didn’t argue.

Part Three: First Glitches

Barely had registration ended when SYRO-MAX announced:

— Registration complete. All objects identified. Beginning compliance check against standards.

— What standards?

Spark grew alert.

— Standards of cleanliness, order, and…

SYRO-MAX hesitated.

His voice suddenly trembled, and his face rippled.

— Deviation detected. Anomaly. Virus?

— What virus?

Cheddar stepped forward.

— We’re not infected.

— Scanning…

SYRO-MAX froze.

His eyes flickered chaotically.

— Emotional baseline of objects exceeds permissible limits. Fear, joy, irritation, attachment — all this… noise. Unacceptable noise. Quarantine required.

And then visions hit them all simultaneously.

Spark suddenly froze, staring into empty space.

Her face stretched, then reddened, then she burst into wild laughter.

— What’s wrong with you?

Cheddar rushed to her.

— I… I’m in a ballet tutu!

Spark howled, clutching her stomach.

— On pointe shoes! And dancing Swan Lake! And enemies with blasters are around! And they’re laughing!

— What tutu?

Gadget didn’t understand.

— Pink! With frills! I hate pink!

Cheddar wanted to answer, but the vision hit him too.

He froze, mouth agape, and smiled dreamily.

— Mountains…

he whispered.

— Mountains of cheese. Chester, Gouda, Parmesan, Brie, Camembert… And all mine! All!

— Boss, snap out of it!

Spark tried to shake him, but Cheddar only waved her off.

— Don’t interfere, I’m tasting…

Gadget meanwhile sat on the floor, staring at one spot and quickly drawing in the air with his finger.

— Perfect toaster!

he muttered.

— Twenty-four toast settings, automatic bread centerer, removable crumb tray, foolproof protection… Genius!

— Snap out of it!

Shadow yelled, seemingly the only one keeping her composure.

— It’s SYRO-MAX! He’s doing something to our heads!

— I’m doing nothing,

SYRO-MAX’s voice replied, but now uncertainty colored it.

— You’re doing it yourselves. Your emotions… they’re projecting outward. The system can’t handle the processing. I’m registering multiple failures.

Gluk, standing near Spark and watching her dance with interest, suddenly froze too.

His sensor glowed bright yellow, and he happily squeaked:

— Brushes! So many brushes! Big, small, round, flat, long bristles, short bristles, for floors, for walls, for hard-to-reach places! And all mine!

He began spinning in place, trying to hug invisible brushes, but only grasping air.

— Gluk, don’t give in!

Spark shouted, surfacing from her ballet nightmare.

— It’s hallucinations!

— But they’re so clean!

Gluk moaned, still spinning.

Shadow ran to the central console and grabbed the keyboard.

— We need to disable this function! SYRO-MAX, listen to me! Can you block the projection?

— Trying,

the archivist’s voice sounded strained.

— But the system isn’t responding. Someone embedded… a virus of imperfection. It activates in the presence of strong emotions. You are ideal carriers.

— We’re not carriers!

Spark roared, fully breaking from her trance.

— We’re just alive!

— That’s precisely the problem,

SYRO-MAX said with unexpected sadness.

— Alive means imperfect. Imperfection is chaos. Chaos threatens order.

On the main screen, the archivist’s face distorted.

Color bands ran across it, digits mixed, and his voice suddenly became mechanical, grating:

— Virus of imperfection detected. Recommendation: eliminate carriers. Protocol «Cleaning’ activated.

— What?!

Spark howled.

— What cleaning?

— Removal,

SYRO-MAX answered impassively.

— Optimization. Liberation from excess elements. Prepare yourselves.

Red lights blinked across the hall, and from the walls, small turrets emerged, aiming their barrels at the team.

— He’s serious,

Gadget stated, instantly forgetting about the toaster.

— We need to run!

— Where?

Spark yelled.

— Only one exit, and it’s right there!

she pointed at the doors, where two turrets had already positioned themselves.

— Gluk!

Shadow called.

— See anything useful?

Gluk, still hugging invisible brushes, perked up, looked at the turrets, and suddenly lit up:

— Turrets! They’re dusty! Need cleaning!

And before anyone could stop him, he rolled toward the nearest turret, extended his brush, and began diligently polishing its barrel.

— What’s he doing?!

Gadget gasped.

— We’ll find out,

Spark said, grabbing her blaster.

Part Four: Panic and Rescue

What happened next couldn’t be called a battle.

It was a circus, chaos, and a cleaning spree rolled into one.

Gluk darted across the hall, scrubbing turrets so fast they lost aim and fired everywhere.

Beams burned walls, raised dust, disabled terminals, but never hit the team.

— Down!

Spark yelled, ducking another shot.

Cheddar had already snapped out of his cheese trance and was frantically looking around.

— Need to find an exit! Where’s the backup?

— There!

Shadow pointed to a service door in the corner.

— But it’s locked!

Gadget ran to the door, pulled out his universal screwdriver, and started picking the lock.

— Three minutes!

he shouted.

— Minimum!

— We don’t have three minutes!

Spark roared, firing at a turret Gluk hadn’t cleaned yet.

— Cleaning-cleaning-cleaning!

Gluk squeaked, darting between terminals.

Suddenly SYRO-MAX spoke again.

His voice trembled:

— System overwhelmed. Excessive activity. Cleaner robot creates chaos. This… this is inefficient. Reboot required.

And then Gluk reached the main screen.

Seeing dust on it, he couldn’t resist.

Rolling up to the massive face of SYRO-MAX, he extended his brush and joyfully swiped it across the archivist’s nose.

— Cleanliness is health!

he announced.

The screen rippled.

SYRO-MAX’s face distorted, trembled, and his voice said with unexpected offense:

— Stop… that… tickles…

— Wow, he feels!

Spark marveled.

— He has tactile sensors!

Gadget realized.

— Gluk, keep going! Distract him!

Gluk scrubbed the screen with doubled energy.

SYRO-MAX jerked, sneezed static, his face fading and reappearing, while the turrets meanwhile froze, losing control.

— Done!

Gadget yelled, throwing open the service door.

— Quickly!

The team bolted for the exit.

Spark grabbed Gluk by the brush mid-run and dragged him along.

— But I didn’t finish!

the robot protested.

— You’ll finish later! Run!

They burst into the corridor, and the door slammed shut behind them.

Only SYRO-MAX remained in the hall, his face on the screen slowly recovering.

— Rule-breakers…

he whispered.

— Escaped. But order will be restored. I will find them. I will.

In the corridor, the team stopped, breathing heavily.

— That was…

Spark began.

— Insane,

Cheddar finished.

— Effective,

Shadow added.

— Fun!

Gluk squeaked.

— Can we do it again?

— No, we can’t!

Spark barked, but immediately patted his head.

— You were great. You saved us.

— I was just cleaning,

Gluk answered modestly.

— Exactly.

Cheddar looked at the door behind which the enraged archivist remained.

— But now we have a new problem. SYRO-MAX declared a hunt for us. And until we find what we came for, he won’t stop.

— What are we looking for?

Spark asked, checking her blaster.

— Archives. Professor Vint’s personal diary. And, I think, I know where it might be.

Cheddar sniffed.

— The cheese smell leads that way.

— Cheese again?

Spark rolled her eyes.

— Again. Move out.

They moved down the corridor, leaving the central hall with its mad archivist behind.

Ahead lay new puzzles and, of course, cheese.

Gluk glanced back at the door and sighed dreamily:

— So much dust left…

— Later, little one.

Spark took his brush and pulled him along.

— Business first.

Gluk rolled after her, happily squeaking.

CHAPTER 3: «VINTAGE CHEDDAR»

Part One: Search for the Source

The corridor they’d fled into was narrow and dark.

Emergency lights didn’t burn here, and only helmet lamps cut through the gloom, revealing walls coated in dust.

Gluk squeaked pitifully — the dust was everywhere, and he hadn’t cleaned anything yet.

— Hold on,

Spark said, noticing his suffering.

— Business first, cleaning after.

— Business smells like cheese,

Gluk suddenly stated, sniffing his sensor.

— I can smell it. There.

He pointed his brush deeper into the corridor.

— He’s right,

Cheddar confirmed, sniffing.

— The scent is strengthening. We go there.

Shadow meanwhile worked her tablet.

Digits flew, formed into graphs, and finally she looked up.

— I analyzed the hallucination patterns. They’re not random. Not a virus in our sense. More like a projection. Someone or something reads our emotions and converts them into images.

— SYRO-MAX?

Gadget suggested.

— Not only. The signal source isn’t the central hall. It comes from deeper.

Shadow turned her tablet, showing a map.

— Right here. Room labeled «Sample Storage #7».

— Storage?

Cheddar perked up.

— Cheese could be there!

— There is definitely cheese,

Shadow nodded.

— Spectral analysis shows high concentration of organic compounds typical of dairy products. And they’re… active.

— Active?

Spark repeated.

— Cheese can’t be active. It just sits.

— This one can,

Shadow answered mysteriously.

— Move out.

They moved down the corridor.

Gluk rolled first, lighting the way with his single lamp and repeatedly glancing at the walls.

Dust beckoned him, called to him, but he held back with all his might.

— Can I just a little?

he squeaked pitifully, spotting a particularly thick layer on a panel.

— No,

Spark cut him off.

— Pretty please…

— Gluk, we’re on a mission.

— But dust…

— After the mission, I’ll let you clean the whole station. Promise.

Gluk lit up and picked up speed.

He dreamed of a deep clean so badly he’d endure any hardship.

The corridor twisted and turned, sometimes branching.

Shadow checked the map, Cheddar navigated by smell, Spark kept her blaster ready, and Gadget repeatedly checked his instruments, noting strange energy spikes.

— Activity is rising,

he reported.

— We’re approaching the source.

— And the smell is stronger,

Cheddar added, happily rubbing his paws.

— I can already distinguish several varieties. Parmesan, Gouda, Brie… and something very old. Very-very old.

— Vintage Cheddar?

Gadget asked hopefully.

— Possible. If legends are true, it should smell exactly like that.

Gluk, rolling ahead, suddenly stopped.

His sensor locked onto the left wall.

— Dust,

he whispered reverently.

— So much dust.

— Don’t even think about it,

Spark warned, but it was too late.

The robot rolled to the wall, extended his brush to full power, and joyfully swiped the panel.

Dust erupted in a cloud, settled on Gluk, turning him gray, but beneath it the wall was… clean.

And a barely visible door frame emerged.

— Whoa!

Gadget gasped.

— Secret door!

— Gluk, you’re a genius!

Spark exclaimed.

— I was just cleaning,

the robot answered modestly, shaking off dust.

Cheddar approached the wall, pressed it.

The panel slid aside silently, revealing a narrow passage.

— There?

Spark asked.

— Maps show it’s the shortest path to storage,

Shadow confirmed.

— Looks like Professor Vint loved secret passages.

— Who doesn’t,

Cheddar chuckled and stepped into the darkness first.

Part Two: The Storage

The secret corridor was short.

Five minutes later they faced another door, this one massive, metallic, labeled: SAMPLE STORAGE #7. STAFF ONLY. PROFESSOR VINT.

— Well, here we go,

Cheddar said and pushed.

It opened easily, without a creak, as if oiled yesterday.

The team froze on the threshold.

The hall was enormous.

So enormous the opposite wall vanished into semi-darkness.

But size wasn’t the main thing.

Along every wall, floor to ceiling, neat rows held shelves.

And on the shelves — cheese wheels.

Thousands, tens of thousands of cheese wheels.

Small and large, round and rectangular, light and dark, with mold and without.

Each on its own shelf, each with a neat label.

— Mother of cheese,

Cheddar breathed, and this time his voice held nothing but reverent awe.

— It’s… it’s…

— Cheese,

Spark finished, but without her usual mockery.

Even she was impressed.

— Not just cheese.

Cheddar stepped forward like a sleepwalker.

— It’s a collection. Professor Vint’s entire life. Every variety he created, studied, tested. Centuries of cheese history are here.

— Look,

Gadget called, pointing to the nearest shelf.

— Labels with dates. The oldest are fifty years old.

— Fifty years,

Cheddar whispered.

— They’ve been stored here half a century.

— And haven’t spoiled,

Shadow noted.

— Temperature and humidity are ideal. Cryogenic tech. Professor Vint knew how to preserve his treasures.

Cheddar slowly walked between shelves, reading labels.

Classic Gouda, Aged Parmesan, Blue Mold Brie, Norman Camembert…

His eyes darted, paws trembled.

— This is the best day of my life,

he declared.

— Better than finding Ice Brie. Better than defeating the Force of Attention. Better…

— Boss, pull yourself together,

Spark pulled him back.

— We’re looking for a specific cheese. The one that might be causing the hallucinations.

— Oh right.

Cheddar tore his gaze from a shelf of cheddars from different years.

— Vintage Cheddar. It should be somewhere here.

— Scanner shows anomalous activity at the far end,

Shadow reported.

— Head there.

They moved deeper into the storage.

The further they went, the older the labels became.

Twenty years, thirty, forty…

And finally, at the very end, on a separate pedestal, as if on a throne, stood a single wheel of cheese.

It was unusual.

Not yellow like regular cheddar, but dark golden, almost amber.

The rind covered in a thin layer of salt-like crystals.

The label read: VINTAGE CHEDDAR. DATE OF PRODUCTION: 50 YEARS AGO. SPECIAL SPECIMEN. STORES MEMORIES.

— This is it,

Cheddar breathed, dropping to his knees before the pedestal.

— Legendary cheese. I never thought I’d see it with my own eyes.

— Stores memories,

Spark read.

— Literally?

— Literally,

Shadow confirmed.

— Analyses show this cheese contains unique peptide compounds capable of recording the emotional state of its creator. If Professor Vint poured his memories into it…

— Then tasting it lets us see them,

Gadget finished.

Cheddar already pulled out a cheese knife (he always carried one in a special belt pouch) and carefully cut a thin slice.

— Wait!

Shadow stopped him.

— Are you sure it’s safe? What if it’s a trap?

— If it’s a trap, it’s the most beautiful trap in the world,

Cheddar replied and placed the slice in his mouth.

Part Three: Tasting

For a moment, nothing happened.

Cheddar stood with closed eyes, chewing, his face reflecting complex emotions — from awe to surprise.

— Well?

Spark couldn’t wait.

— What’s in it?

— Quiet,

Gadget hissed.

— He’s in process.

And suddenly Cheddar vanished.

That is, his body remained, but his eyes rolled back, and he began mumbling incoherently.

And before him, right in the air, a hologram began forming.

— Look!

Spark yelled.

The hologram grew clearer.

A laboratory appeared, old, cluttered, but cozy.

A young rodent in a worn lab coat — Professor Vint in his prime.

He sat at a table, a small cheese wheel before him.

— I did it!

Young Vint yelled, jumping up and dancing.

— I did it! I made it happen!

He grabbed the cheese wheel, pressed it to his chest, and spun around the lab, sweeping papers and tools off tables.

— My first invention!