Part 1: A New Friend

Thanks to jet engines and Bernoulli's principle, the distant journey doesn't take long to cover.
The Plesetsk branch bears a striking resemblance to headquarters, a result of the rigorous standardization of the branch design guidelines set out by Laplace. Ulrich almost feels like he's in a dream.
Ulrich: This place looks almost identical to headquarters.
His admiration piques the host's interest.
Branch Receptionist: Yes, but unlike headquarters, we have more space, less work, and lower outdoor temperatures. It's a perfect holiday spot.
Branch Receptionist: Welcome to Plesetsk Retreat Center, Ulrich! Come, let me show you around the facilities.
Ulrich: Actually, I need a lab to store my data.
The receptionist lets out a stifled hum as he tries to grasp these words.
Branch Receptionist: Data? Do you mean you brought work here? Aren't you on holiday?
Ulrich: I have to do something while I'm here.
It is clear that he is already regretting this "holiday."
Branch Receptionist: That won't do. Holidays are for disconnecting from work, not taking on new projects. You have to understand that people work to live, not the other way around.
He pats Ulrich's steel frame with unwarranted familiarity.
Branch Receptionist: Play some games, sleep in, maybe have a chat with the others here; if you're lucky, they'll even be willing to hang out with you—that's what people do on a holiday.
Branch Receptionist: Besides, your room hasn't been cleaned yet.
This holiday checklist utterly fails to spark Ulrich's interest.
Ulrich: I'll clean the room myself.
Branch Receptionist: Alright then. Follow me, my serious friend.
The receptionist leads Ulrich down the corridor and to the door of his room.
Ulrich: …?!
As the door opens, they are hit with a heady stench. Ulrich immediately shuts off his olfactory input channel.
Branch Receptionist: Here we are, Ulrich.
Ulrich: It seems like a dumpster exploded in here! Doesn't the Plesetsk management protocol include regular cleaning of vacant rooms?
Branch Receptionist: Actually, it doesn't.
Ulrich: ...
Branch Receptionist: It'll be best if you don't set your expectations too high, Ulrich. This was originally an abandoned administrative facility, remember.
Branch Receptionist: After Mr. Ludwig repurposed it into a recovery center, management was deliberately reduced to avoid disturbing the occupants.
Ulrich: I can handle the cleaning myself. But I need a high-performance computer that meets laboratory standards.
Branch Receptionist: Uh, but you're not on any projects right now. So, it's unlikely they'll give you anything close to a high-performance computer during your stay here.
A spark flares from one of UIrich's circuits.
Ulrich: I'll submit my request, regardless of the outcome.
With that, he steps determinedly into the garbage dump of a room and starts picking trash off the floor.
Ulrich: A snack shopping list, a custom party light microcontroller ...
Ulrich: A pile of bizarre ergonomic keyboards, broken electronic music synthesizers ... all of it should go to the warehouse. And this—
Ulrich reaches for a small device on top of the storage cabinet.
An alarm pierces the room like a panicked scream.
Ulrich: ...?!
Ulrich: What is this?
Branch Receptionist: I have no idea. Maybe a homemade circuit testing device?
Ulrich: No, the craftsmanship is much too precise, and the components are custom-made. This is clearly a sophisticated instrument. Certainly not something that should be left unattended in a pile of junk.
Ulrich: Could you check for any transfer records?
Branch Receptionist: Just so you know, Ulrich, with the "Storms" coming back like this, things have been falling by the wayside.
Branch Receptionist: No one knows how many things we've misplaced over the years. How could we possibly trace where something you found in a pile of junk came from?
Ulrich: All this work on systems and procedures, yet when you actually need to use the information from any of them, they're totally useless.
The receptionist nudges Ulrich gently with his elbow.
Branch Receptionist: Don't overthink it. Just toss the thing.
As if resisting its fate of being discarded into storage, the device blares its alarm once more.
Branch Receptionist: What now?
Ulrich: Did I trigger a switch? No, wait.
Ulrich: It seems to be responding to our conversation. And the first time it sounded was when I accidentally touched it.
Branch Receptionist: You don't think ...?
Ulrich: And these ripples on the screen ... While I can't decipher their meaning, they may be conveying some sort of message.
Ulrich: Could it be ...
Realizing a critical possibility, Ulrich carefully places the oscilloscope back in its original position.
Ulrich: It's an Awakened coming to life all alone in a deserted office! You—
He turns around only to find that the receptionist is long gone.
Ulrich: Fine, I'll handle this myself.
Left without assistance, Ulrich faces the dual challenge of social interaction and technical problem-solving alone.
Straightening both his attire and his back, he adopts a formal, courteous tone.
Ulrich: Hello?

He gives one last wave to the oscilloscope, only to receive a series of erratic, indecipherable waveforms in return.
It seems that it has not yet managed to find a way to express "hello."
Ulrich: Perhaps awakening alone in an abandoned office has caused its language functionality to deteriorate?
Oscilloscope: Beep.
The oscilloscope responds—or at least seems to.
Ulrich: Oh, I didn't mean to belittle you ...
The display's waveform flattens into a straight line as the device shuts down completely.
Ulrich: I suppose I deserve that.
Before Ulrich can sink too deeply into self-pity, the receptionist reappears.
Branch Receptionist: Ulrich, stop what you're doing.
Branch Receptionist: The welcome party's about to begin!
Ulrich: Welcome party?