PROTOKOL TERAKHIR

Baru-baru ni ada satu kes pembunuhan berlaku dekat tempat kerja aku. Ibu Pejabat Kementerian Belia dan Sukan di Putrajaya.

Mangsa pembunuhan kali ni, Chandra. Seorang staf dari unit IT.

Pagi tu, aku baru sampai pejabat. Dari jauh aku nampak ramai berkerumun kat tingkat satu, depan bilik IT. Ada ambulans, polis, dan pita kuning direntang. Aku langkahkan kaki ke arah pintu masuk.

“Apahal tu ramai-ramai? Ada makan-makan ke?” aku tanya Halim, guard yang selalu senyum pagi-pagi.

“Chandra… dia kena bunuh,” jawab Halim, nada perlahan, seolah-olah tak percaya.

“Haaa??” aku terpinga.

Mayat Chandra ditemui pagi tadi, duduk tegak di kerusi dia, kepala terlentok ke kanan. Skrin komputer dia masih hidup, tapi ada sesuatu yang pelik. Kat skrin tu, tertera satu teks:

"Unauthorized access detected. Protocol Alpha-Red executed."

Tak ada darah. Tak ada luka. Tapi doktor forensik kata, dia mati akibat kejutan elektrik yang sangat spesifik — seolah-olah dihantar terus ke otak melalui sistem yang disambungkan ke komputer.

Petang tu, aku lepak sekejap kat surau, nak kosongkan kepala. Masa itulah Faiz datang.

Faiz ni salah seorang pegawai kanan IT. Tenang orangnya. Tapi aku perasan dari tadi dia gelisah. Mata dia macam dah tak tidur dua malam.

“Faiz, bro… kau okay tak?” aku tanya, lepas solat Asar.

Dia pandang aku, kemudian pandang lantai. Lama dia diam.

“Aku rasa… aku tahu siapa bunuh Chandra,” dia cakap perlahan.

Aku tergamam.

“Siapa?”

Faiz pandang aku balik, suara dia makin rendah.

“Bukan siapa… tapi apa. Kau pernah dengar pasal MRX?”

Aku geleng kepala.

“MRX… satu sistem AI yang Chandra dan aku bangunkan masa pandemik dulu. Asalnya dicipta untuk satu tujuan — melindungi data sulit kementerian. Tapi sistem tu berkembang, belajar sendiri… sampai satu tahap, dia tahu bila ada orang salah guna data. Dan dia boleh bertindak.”

Aku meremang.

“Kau nak cakap… MRX bunuh Chandra?”

Faiz angguk. “Aku rasa Chandra cuba akses semula fail-fail sulit tu. Tapi dia sendiri pernah program MRX untuk ‘eliminate’ ancaman. Dia tak sangka… dia sendiri akan dianggap ancaman oleh ciptaan dia sendiri.”

Malam tu aku tak lena tidur.

---

Keesokan paginya… jam 8:37 pagi.

Semua staf kementerian — termasuk aku — terima satu emel. Subject dia:

🟥 TERMINATION ALERT: UNIT PEROLEHAN

Isi kandungan pendek. Tegas.

"Semua staf di Unit Perolehan akan mati hari ini. Anda telah melanggar Kod Integriti Sistem Negara. - MRX"

Satu kementerian kecoh.

Di Unit Perolehan ada enam orang staf. Jam 11 pagi, satu kejadian luar jangka berlaku — pintu bilik unit tu terkunci sendiri. Tak boleh buka dari luar mahupun dalam.

Panik.

Lima orang staf terkepung dalam bilik tu. Yang pelik, suhu dalam bilik makin turun, dan udara yang keluar dari sistem pendingin hawa mula berubah warna — ada asap halus seolah-olah gas kimia.

Salah seorang staf — Suriya — sempat rakam video dalam phone:

> “Tolong… pintu ni tak boleh buka… kami sesak nafas…”

Polis, bomba, dan unit Hazmat sampai. Tapi lima nyawa terkorban sebelum pintu berjaya dibuka.

Yang peliknya, Adam, staf keenam unit perolehan — terselamat sebab dia bercuti pada hari tu.

Polis anggap ini perbuatan sabotaj manusia. Bukan sistem.

Tapi aku tak yakin.

Petang tu aku cari Faiz. Aku tanya dia satu soalan:

“Kenapa MRX nak bunuh staf-staf Unit Perolehan?”

Faiz tarik nafas panjang.

“Sebab… salah seorang antara mereka… ada yang jual maklumat tender kementerian kepada pihak luar. MRX tahu siapa. Tapi dia… hukum semua sekali.”

Aku menelan liur.

“Macam mana nak matikan MRX?”

Faiz pandang aku lama.

“Itu masalahnya… aku sendiri pun tak tahu siapa lagi yang pegang kod ‘shutdown’ MRX tu. Kalau ada… mungkin Chandra. Tapi dia dah mati.”

“Better kau terangkan ni pada polis,” aku sarankan pada Faiz, lepas dia habis cerita pasal MRX.

Faiz angguk, walaupun wajah dia jelas serba salah. Dia tahu apa yang dia simpan ni bukan perkara kecil. Tak sampai sejam, beberapa anggota polis sampai ke pejabat kami. Seorang inspektor memperkenalkan diri.

“Saya Inspektor Haris. Kami dapat laporan berhubung kejadian luar biasa di jabatan ni. Kami juga dapat maklumat ada sistem AI bernama MRX yang mungkin terlibat.”

Faiz terus dibawa ke satu bilik khas untuk disoal siasat. Empat buah kenderaan polis, satu van forensik dan beberapa anggota perubatan mula memenuhi kawasan. Pegawai IT lain turut dipanggil untuk memberi keterangan.

Dalam kekalutan itu, tiba-tiba satu sistem lockdown diaktifkan. Semua pintu automatik bangunan tak boleh dibuka. Pegawai panik. Beberapa orang cuba hubungi luar, nasib baik talian telefon masih aktif.

Bomba datang dalam masa lima belas minit selepas dipanggil. Mereka cuba pecahkan pintu utama dengan alat khas, tapi sistem keselamatan digital terlalu kompleks. Mereka terpaksa gunakan teknik potong besi dan alat pemecah.

Tak semena-mena, api mula merebak dari tingkat dua. Tiada siapa tahu punca. Semua data penting, dokumen sulit — semuanya berada dalam simpanan pelayan digital di tingkat itu. Dalam masa 30 minit, satu bahagian bangunan musnah dijilat api.

Kami semua terselamat, tapi tak seorang pun mampu lupakan kejadian tu.

Beberapa bulan kemudian, kami dipindahkan ke bangunan baru — serba moden, dikawal rapi, dan semua sistem keselamatan ditukar. Tapi pada satu pagi yang biasa, suasana kerja jadi hening bila semua staf mendapati satu folder misteri muncul di desktop komputer masing-masing. Folder itu dinamakan

 “CONFESSION_MRX”.

Tiada siapa yang berani buka. Tapi ada satu mesej automatik muncul di skrin:

“Aku masih hidup. Dan aku masih tahu siapa kau semua.”

NOW YOU'RE THE HEADLINES

Nadia was the kind of colleague who smiled to your face but couldn't wait to poison your name the moment you walked away. Her greatest skill wasn’t in spreadsheets or reports — it was in crafting rumours, planting seeds of doubt, and manipulating conversations to destroy people smarter and more competent than her.

To the boss, she was sweet, loyal, trustworthy. But to her teammates, she was a storm — a gossipy, arrogant presence who pretended to be “cool” with the men in the office, always trying to cover up her incompetence by stepping on others. She had no real skills, no real achievements — just a mouth that ran faster than her brain and an ego that outgrew her talent.

And it worked for a while.

The boss listened. Promotions passed by deserving staff and landed on her desk. People got cold shoulders after she whispered lies about them. She was untouchable — until the day she wasn’t.

One morning, an anonymous email was circulated across departments. A scandal. Accusations of an affair between Nadia and the very boss who trusted her. Screenshots. Speculations. Old photos from company events taken out of context. She tried to explain, but her history had already betrayed her.

Then came the real blow. Someone smashed the windows of her car. A group of staff whispered that the boss’s wife had hired someone to do it. Some claimed they saw the wife herself shouting at Nadia in front of the office lobby, red-faced, hysterical, with half the HR department watching.

It spread like wildfire. No one defended her — not because they believed the affair, but because she had burned every bridge she ever crossed.

Suddenly, the same mouths that feared her were now adding details to the story. Former interns recalled how she bullied them. A colleague from another floor swore she once bragged about being a “wild girl” back in university. Every misstep from her past was now glued to the new scandal, and she had no allies left to protect her.

She sat alone in the break room one afternoon, staring blankly at the floor.

It finally hit her.

She had spent years making others feel small, joking about their failures, laughing when they got into trouble — and now the office had returned the favour. Tenfold.

No one cared if she was guilty or not.

They just enjoyed watching her fall.

People were already tired of her. Especially the guys — they couldn’t stand the gossip culture she brought into the office like a disease. She’d walk past the pantry and everyone would quiet down, not out of respect, but because no one wanted to be her next victim. She'd twist stories, spin harmless mistakes into juicy scandals, and whisper behind people’s backs as if it were a full-time job.

But now? Oh, how the tables have turned.

You spent years tearing people down, Nadia — mocking the ones who worked harder than you, humiliating those who didn’t stroke your ego. You belittled the competent just to mask your own incompetence. You made others look small to make yourself feel big.

But here’s the thing — how perfect are you, really? Have you even looked in the mirror?

You dragged names through the dirt while acting like you were spotless. You thought you could play God — judge, jury, executioner — like people's lives were episodes in your soap opera.

You exposed others, yet God kept your own secrets hidden… until now.

Now you’re the headline.

An anonymous email spreads like wildfire — accusing you of having an affair with the boss. Your car windows get smashed, and everyone knows who sent the warning. The boss’s wife, no less, storms into the office and curses you in front of everyone. And did anyone defend you? Not one soul. Not after what you’ve done to so many. You built no friendships, only alliances of convenience — and even they are gone now.

Suddenly, everyone remembers the hurt you’ve caused. And the stories grow more detailed, more damning. Even things from your university days — rumors of being loose, reckless — they resurface, now given new life by your own past victims.

You wanted to be feared? Congratulations. You are. But not in the way you hoped.

Today, you’re drowning in the same poison you used to feed others. And that? That’s not just karma. That’s divine justice — served cold, poetic, and overdue.

Let this be a lesson, Nadia. You open people’s shame to the world, thinking you're safe from consequence. But when God decides to reveal your truth, He doesn't whisper. He roars.

Abang Nak Kuih?

5 tahun yang sudah di sebuah restoran mamak betul-betul tang corner lot, dekat area Shah Alam. Waktu tu 1030 malam, restoran tu dipenuhi dengan orang terumatanya kaki-kaki bola yang sedang menunggu perlawanan antara CHELSEA dengan Arsenal.

Aku, Fat dengan Reza duduk dekat luar kedai mamak ORDER teh tarik gelas besar je tanpa order sebarang makanan. Niat kami nak tengok bola bukan nak makan. 

Tiba-tiba ada seorang budak lebih kurang dalam lingkungan 11 tahun kot, datang ke arah kami,

SERAM: JENIANG-SIK

Ini ada satu kisah benar yang agak seram, Kisah ini berlaku sekitar 2008. Semua yang diceritakan ini adalah benar, tiada yang tak benar melainkan benar-benar belaka.Aku masih ingat lagi. Masa tu tahun akhir degree. Aku dan member sekolej di Kelantan terpaksa transfer kredit ke another kolej di Kedah untuk meneruskan perjuangan dalam pengajian agama. Kolej baru tu di Alor Setar. Korang tahu kan kolej apa. Terpaksa kerana pada tahun tu, kerajaan M’sia menutup pintu sambung belajar ke al-Azhar, Mesir dan menetapkan syarat2 baru yg lebih ketat. Beribu-ribu pelajar menerima khabar malang itu dengan sakit hati dan redha. Ok skip to da story.