The pounding on the door slowly pulled her from a dream in which she had been shrunk down to nanometer size and thrown inside an integrated circuit. She was running frantically through the wiring in search of a number, only to fetch up against a gate where she banged her fist on the source and demanded to be let through. She woke halfway and found she wasn't pounding on anything.
"Erin, let me in!"
Steg? she thought muzzily as she fumbled for the clock. 16:45, the day was gone.
"God damn it! I know you're in there. This is important," he cried.
"Go away!" she called back, but groped for her robe anyhow. Thrusting her arms into the sleeves, she stumbled to the door and pressed her eye to the peephole.
Weirdly enlarged by the fisheye lens, Steg's eyes peered back at her. He waved a sheaf of papers in one hand. "You have to see this."
"Couldn't you mail it? For God's sake, I was working all night."
"No. Not this, not mail. Shit, nothing electronic."
"What is it?" She knew he'd been scheduled for today and she recognized the company logo stamped in the upper right corner of the top sheet. Interest pricked her awake.
"Your 'not fucking random enough' numbers," he hissed. "Let me in."
No, she thought, but she was already pulling the robe close around her and knotting the sash. No ex-boyfriends when you're not dressed. But the numbers were her obsession and Steg was mostly harmless. She wanted those papers with an unholy passion that she'd never felt for him.
266 words | March 19, 2004 03:47 PM | Story