run.exe

A dim light engorged the workstation of a profile, emitting from a luke-warm bulb clasped onto the left side of the desk by sheer force alone. The careful clacking of the keyboard reverberated throughout the bare space, occasionally finding objects to rebound off back into the expanse. Scattered at the desk was a multitude of everyday items; pens, books, papers. The figure continued to manipulate the keys of the keyboard, each digit gliding across the surface of the accessory with calculated ease. If one listened closely, a faint murmur of a television permeated the surroundings, largely ignored by the single occupant of the room.

From a spectator’s view, the body positioned in the office chair could only barely be made out to be human of nature. But something was off about the way the being sat attentively, never wavering from the tip-tapping of the keyboard, the pixels of the screen it was seemingly engrossed by changing from black to white, stuck in a perpetuated loop of illumination followed by the extinguishing of all three primary colored bulbs, pristine white followed by a bleak darkness.

The keyboard had stopped emitting sound for a period of time now, and the television’s droning voices were no longer present. Only the light remained constant, the bulb emanating a cold warmth to the subject beneath it. The world seemingly stood still now that the only motion had ceased. The only light that had casted upon the desk abruptly vanished, leaving only the solemn glow of the monitor. A few clicks could be heard creeping from the workspace, but soon all returned back to silence. The screen shut off, darkness crept from the corners of the room and soon engulfed all that dared occupy it.

The empty blackness lingered for some time before a dim light engorged the workstation of the profile, sad rays of light casting themself upon the smooth figure below it. A clear plasticity could be identified in the robotic figure. Perhaps most striking though, was the lack of any human resemblance. It was simply a husk, mechanically typing into another machine, performing this minute task for an unknown amount of time. This repeats, the cycle continues on and on, dim light engorging followed by darkness creeping in, out of times’ domain. Never wavering, the man types his thoughts for the only entity that will ever experience them, an insentient machine.

-Shaun G.