by syaffolee

The computer lab is not quite quiet.

Machines are constantly humming–an eerie music. They are banshees crooning softly. The scanner buzzes like a chainsaw in its work. Light leaks out in a spray, showering the nearby computers with white.

Besides me, there is only one other living person in the lab. But I wonder if he is not just another machine–one with skin, hair, eyes, fingers–but a machine nonetheless, staring at the monitor in front of him, accessing the information as if they were ones and zeroes instead of words and pictures.