Daniel Webber 01

Date: May 5, 3345

Location: USOS Institute 08, Norfolk VA

Daniel Webber

Gate 3’s traffic crept at a snail’s pace as each vehicle gained clearance to enter. If it wasn’t for the soft orchestrated music oozing from the dashboard that massaged his nerves, Daniel Webber’s temper would have reached a catastrophic level of insanity. Frantically, the drivers in front of him switched lanes to hasten their entrance. Stupid drivers. Don’t they understand their actions are only slowing everyone’s arrival. Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled while counting to ten. His vehicle was minute compared to the family sized monstrosities he had to avoid. Most of the surrounding automobiles only contained one driver, a lunch, and a briefcase. Driving a large transport for such a small cargo appeared as overkill to Daniel. This is why he loved his Relic Swift. It resembled a bobsled with a shatterproof canopy. The interior was simple, with only the bare necessities needed for driving. A simple car for a simple man, he chuckled to himself.

After flashing his PAC (Personal Access Card), he continued his commute to building eight. Daniel loved working for the United Society of Scientists (USOS) despite the rumors of employees disappearing. People lost their minds everyday. The job demanded a lot. He told himself. It was no secret that building eight existed, however, what they did in it remained classified. Walking through the lobby, Daniel reflected on his reaction when USOS completed project CELPH. This marked the longest project completed by humanity. We created a planet. A real living, evolving, planet. Daniel beamed with pride as he entered his laboratory. This was his playground, his domain of excellence. At forty-two, he was proud to be a part of an epic milestone in history. My team will be the first to create an intelligent synthetic life form, capable of matching humanity’s intelligence.

Overhead lights illuminated the onyx workshop. Everything pertaining to USOS relished the color black. Offices shined with a mirror polish while labs endured a matte finish. Changing into his atramentous lab coat, Daniel proceeded to the incubator. The low humming carousel cradled twenty specimens. His team was first in reaching this threshold. Any day now and we’ll give birth to our first creations. It gave Daniel a slight god-complex. He found the genetic balance that perpetuated his team to this unattainable stage of development. If successful, he would be the first person to create a synthetic living creature. All other attempts failed within the second trimester.

Gary Parker, a colleague, greeted Daniel.

“How do they look Webber?”

“Almost ready to pop.” Webber replied without looking up.

“How much longer do you suppose?” Gary asked as he joined in the observation.

“Today I hope.” Parker speculated.

The machine stopped as other scientist joined in the morning observation. Second guessing the situation, Daniel and Parker ran diagnostic tests. Each positive result created a cheer from the crowd. The moment of truth had came. A two minute countdown appeared on the monitor. This was it. Twenty years of research and development formed in this pinnacle moment. If these lives could not handle the stress brought onto them when each pod opened, his time at USOS would end. Recollecting the rumors  concerning employees disappearing, Daniel felt his chest tighten with impending fear. Sweat beads formed on his forehead as the clock struck thirty seconds to go. Conversations turned into laconic whispers as the time held ten seconds left. Though not a soul spoke in the last five second, everyone, captivated in counting, held their breath in unison as the clock hit zero. Minutes passed within the two second delay, then each birthing chamber opened revealing a small furry creature.

Daniel and Parker verified movement from each newborn. Excitement filled the room as small cries from the infants permeated the incubator. Daniel marveled at how accurate the computer predicted the byproduct. The specimens appeared more human than ape despite their cat like heads and fur covered bodies. Catfolk, I have created a catfolk race. Daniel stood there, amazed with his team. Together, they pulled off the impossible. They created a new life form.

 

Sarah Sarrah 07

 

Date: September 30, 3346

Location: American East Coast Herald, Oceana, VA

The slate blue wall transcribed the moment. An unspoken seriousness fell over Sarah as she listened to Foreman. He stood as an monument, an untouchable soldier sent to create a better place. He smile captivated his essence, it prevailed his whole face. Lips, cheeks, eyes, even the winkles in his aging sun weathered skin smiled in unison. One could not help but to feel the warmth of his happiness. The blue hue within the room held strong over the grey tones and brought a sense of calm to his home away from home. But now as Foreman bore his soul, Sarah could feel the grey hue conquering, and darkening the room despite the sun pouring through the jalousie.

“I have RAC.” Foreman whispered. “It developed two weeks ago and I had it confirmed last Saturday. Doctor says, at it’s current rate of growth, I can expect to reach full debilitation within two more weeks.”

Tears streamed down Sarah’s face. There was no cure for RAC (Radically Advanced Cancer). Once diagnosed, a patient had a month to live. Doctors didn’t know where the cancer came from, how it developed, or how to stop it. RAC was unstoppable once it entered the system. One percent of the population had this morbid atrocity. Media painted a positive picture by stating ninety-nine percent of the populous showed no signs of infection. Statistics don’t matter to a person facing their own death.

“We always think there is a tomorrow. We are so focused on the end of the world we forget to lookout of the end of our lives.” Foreman whispered.

His words sent a shocking chill through Sarah’s body. “We can find you help.”

“No.” He softly stated. “No one can help me.. I will not fool myself with false-hope.”

Turning to her Sleeve, she flipped through her contacts in a frantic pace. Pulling up a profile she pleaded. “I need you to schedule an appointment with this doctor. He can help. He works for USOS and has a lot of connections within this company.”

“Stop Sarrah.”

“No.” Her emotions choked her words as she fought back the tears. “I need you to do this. I need you to call this doctor, set up an appointment, and see him.” She couldn’t hold back the pain anymore. “I need you to get better.”

Foreman looked up. His eyes filled with tears as he remained silence. Her hero sat there frail and broken. She reached across the desk and held his hand. “I need you.” She whispered searching for more words to add to her plead.

“It’s a foolish conquest that will only lead to disappointment.” He reasoned.

“So that’s it. You’re just giving up.”

“I’ve come to terms with it, and so should you.” Behind his hazel eyes, he carried an unnerving peace.

Bolting out of her chair, tears turn to resentment. “How could you ask this of me? You were my mentor in college. I can’t come to terms with you giving up on yourself.” She paused as she realized how similar his actions were to a person considering suicide. “Just because you have no hope doesn’t mean I do.”

Storming out of the office she paged for her ride home. As the car pulled up to her curb Sarah jumped out. “Wait, I’ll only take a second.” Her steps were quick and forceful. Retrieving the necessary device to execute her plan, she returned to her ride.

A stampede of wild horses raced in her chest. What am I doing? What she meant was she couldn’t believe she was doing it. She knew exactly what she was doing. She was saving a friend, even if that friend didn’t want her help. Sarah couldn’t recall how she got from the car to Foreman’s office. What she could recall was the look and his face as she pulled out the gun and fired two silent shots.

Disbelief consumed him. “How could you?”

“Its for your own good Foreman.” Sarah stating as she tried to convince herself as well.

After calling for an ambulance she removed the two tranquilizers pinned to his chest. Her father kept the air powered gun in the den for when wild dogs came into the yard. (A call to the humane society for dog removal would follow.) EMT arrived at the scene. Sarah forwarded them his doctor’s information at the USOS treatment facility. She messaged her contact, informing him of the situation. Since Foreman did not have any relatives or children, the automated system allowed Sarah to sign as his guardian. She was going to save her friend.

 

Sarah Sarrah 06

 

Date: September 30, 3346

Location: American East Coast Herald, Oceana, VA

Cool morning air filled Sarah’s lungs as she loaded into the black sedan. The daily commute allowed her to review and prioritize her agendas for the day. Her house was last before the carpool headed to work. She admired the classic black chrome accented exterior. It didn’t standout, but it had class. Tina Howell, the chauffeur, always had contemporary soft jazz playing with the volume just within hearing. Although she never listened to jazz, Sarah found it created the perfect atmosphere for both the morning and evening commute.

Her attention turned to her contact list. It revealed how far she had come. As a clerk, she forged a web of internal connections. This was the foundation for her support. Sarah took great care in assuring continuous backing for her legion of assistants who bolstered a wealth of knowledge at her disposal. They depended on her and she became dependent on them. Foreman loved to classify it as “family”. Although a motley family, Sarah enjoyed every aspect. The good, bad, and ugly all had a prioritized service catering to her needs. Graduating to the blogging staff afforded her the momentous opportunity for stretching her plexus beyond the realm of AECH. Contractors, developers, engineers, and scientists joined her tightly woven highway of information. They exchanged leads, opinions, and breaking news at an understanding level of reserve. It was a ballroom waltz, and she wanted to dance with everyone. Her charm and professionalism made her a prize to talk to. She had an uncanny gift in leading a person to overstep the normal limitations for giving out information. As a journalist, she planned on capitalizing on new doors. Her domain expanded beyond the reaches of her desk. The city will be her new desk and she will plunder its resources. Cities are like people. They have their secrets, and Sarah wanted in.

Stepping out of the car, Sarah headed through the lobby where she found the journalists board. SARAH LI SARRAH gleamed on an untarnished brass plaque. Accomplishment brought an uncontrolled smile to her face. Beaming, she continued to her office for the last time. One last blog. Her mind questioned if any of her readers would notice her transition and follow her as a full-time journalist. Did it matter to them?

The day went without a hitch. The morning comprised of calls gathering information. After merging, filtering, and orchestrating her final piece she sent it off to her editor. A minute later she received notice stating her blog contained no errors and found itself forwarded to the final approver. This routine became normal as she honed her literary skills. Learning the department’s standards developed over time. With each mistake made a boundary formed, and this added to her discipline. Taking great care not to repeat a mistake, Sarah’s unique idiosyncrasy formed within these limitations. Containing a soft rolling rhythm, her peers always remarked how easy her work read. Perhaps this peculiarity accelerated her career as lead blogger.

A final message pinged and Sarah printed a tangible product for Foreman to review. Sarah admired Foreman’s need for touching the finished product. It empowered him to molest it with corrections, notations, or ball it up and launch it back to it’s fallible creator. Paper holds a property that electronic copies will never own. Reciting Foreman’s explanation, she couldn’t agree more. They were bibliophiles sharing an addiction to reading. The texture and aroma surrounding books perpetuated this lust. They were in their element feeding their literary fixation with each composition created.

She laid the assignment on his desk. After glancing over it he placed it in the out-box.

“Very well.” His laden mind was elsewhere as his voice was heavy with thoughts.

“Is everything all right Foreman?” Sara kept her voice light and soft to coax him to console her.

Forcing a smile he knew she was trying to be a friend. Unfortunately, his current condition called for more than a friend for help.

 

Sarah Sarrah 05

 

Date: September 03, 3346

Location: American East Coast Herald, Oceana, VA

The water running through Sarah’s fingers painted the perfect metaphor how her first year at AECH passed. Her flushed face contrasted the cool water as she buried her face into her hand. Foreman crossed the line belittling me in that manner. If he had a problem with my paper, more professionalism would have been in order. She developed a longanimity from Foreman’s constant bellowing for perfection. Catching her breath she chuckled within. He stated “This blog is the most viscous piece of atrocity to cross my desk in months.” Sarah stared at herself in the mirror recalling the crumpled rejection he hurled at her. It bounced off my forehead. A slight giggle escaped as the humor of her hindsight lifted her spirit. She tried to picture her expression in this bewildering moment. Was I cross-eyed? Did I have aGo to Hell” look on my face? Perhaps I held him captive with my stare. A vivid memory portrayed her jerking with a reflex blink. Nonetheless, pride warmed her heart as his crossed expression eclipsed her thoughts, when she asked “Will that be all?” He did not see that coming. He blared with discontent “No. Take your paper and leave.” There is a primal apprehensiveness that encompasses the act of lowering oneself before an attacker. Sarah could feel the hair on her neck stand on ends as she retrieved her blog and left the room. He had no right. Consoling her reflection one more time, she pulled herself together, and returned to her office.

Orchestrating another revision that eloquently reciprocated her last notation, Sarah returned to Foreman’s office. Sarah stood five foot five coupled with a strong medium built Latino figure. Pride was her strong suit while criticism was a jagged pill for her to swallow. Her solid posture remained perpendicular with her slight swaying shoulders. Her stride was long and forthcoming. It demanded his attention as she placed her final piece on his desk.

“Are you sure this is ready to be turned in Sarrah?” Foreman inquired in a manner resembling a parent asking a child if they cleaned their room.

“Are you sure you can review it with more professionalism.” Sarah retorted with a calm unwavering demeanor.

“Let me remind you who you work for Sarrah.” Foreman growled as he towered over her from across the desk.

“And allow me to remind you I am a human being. Scratch that. I am a lady and you will treat me as such by conducting yourself as a gentleman. I will not tolerate degradation for not meeting your standards, unless I need to remind you that my report received approval from your department before I presented it.” Sarah’s lip remained tight as she brace for his rebuttal.

He stood there in silence. His temple flexed as he clinched his jaw. Foreman’s eyes glared into her cold and unnerved eyes. Sarah had made her point and she was all-chips-in. She prepared for her termination as his face inflamed with anger. His eyes darted down to the report. It was the same report with different phrases. She did what he use to do when he resented his boss.

“You’ll finish this month out in your current office. Then your out.”

Her heart sank. She stood her ground and lost. How could he? I was right and he was wrong. She fought back the lump in her throat. She refused to give him the pleasure of seeing her cry.

Foreman continued “You’ll report to Brandon Lowell. He’ll be your new editor.”

“So, I’m not fired?” the words escaped her mouth before her brain could filter them.  Maintaining her composure, Sarah braced for his remark

“Not this time Sarrah. You are correct in stating I was out of line. I have worked this field for twenty-eight years and never have I met a person with your nerves. Even Sigs danced when I barraged him. I need a confident journalist not a spineless biped with a pen.” He took his chair and placed her blog on top of the out-box. “Take the rest of the day of Sarrah, you’ve earned it.” His faced remained dormant. Sarah could tell something was troubling him. A string tugged at her heart to ask, but she didn’t want to cross that threshold. She knew he needed his space to sort things out. For now, she basked in the glory of her promotion to a journalist.

Sarah Sarrah 04

 

Date: April 02, 3346

Location: American East Coast Herald, Oceana, VA

As Sarah stared at the dark morning ceiling her mind raced. Upon gaining that nimble consciousness that meets dormant slumber, Sarah’s mind questioned everything. Thoughts flashed as pictures, too fast for words to keep up. The topic constructed a collage of randomness from What color is the oxygen molecule? to What type of neckline do I have? To Sarah, everything connected to an unwritten adventure. She wanted to expose that adventure. It was her escape from reality. That and the two-hour cardio session at the local gym.

The world she lived in bore its scars as a reminder of humanity’s foolishness. 2717 marked the year Earth’s populations fell by one hundred thousand. A population of twenty-three billion makes one hundred thousand sound minuscule. Nothing could be farther from the truth. The writing on the wall prophesied upcoming events. Until that year Earth’s population had always increased. Humans had always conquered the helpless land. Cities turned into metropolises then overnight the terminology megapolis appeared. Farmlands competed for land, but who cares about farmers. The world coldly classified them as b-rated humans, along with sanitation workers and janitors. Civilization was not just expanding, it was out of control.

Sarah recalled reading how the factories hired scientists to produce synthetic food once the land no longer met the demands of the overcrowded conurbations that merged like growing mold spores on bread.. The candid idea appeared lucid on paper. However, a touch of reality hampers even the most thought out plans. Picture a government forcing its populace to live off of vitamin pills only. We cannot live off of vitamins alone. Sarah repeated to herself. The tragic lesson learnt by all continued to be taught. Laws banned owning pets as reports of families taking drastic measures became common. Children grew up, only to face the slow agony of starvation. Cannibalism became a morbid reality. The only saving grace came with the inevitable reduction of humanities prodigal grip on the Earth. This crisis united every country. Death brings us closer. The World Legislation Council (WLC) formed. Taking notes from the United States the WLC orchestrated bylaws that held each country responsible for their actions. Sarah’s thoughts focused on that point in time. To witness democracy taking over the world must have appeared horrendous. People chose the government that ruled them. If they did not get what they wanted, they petitioned the WLC for help. Looking back, Sarah silently impugned if forming WLC improved the world. Some countries kept their monarchy government. Perhaps it was easier for them to just maintain what they already had.

Flashes quickly illuminated the pale white ceiling. Spring was announcing its arrival with another boisterous storm. I thought we’d be further than we are. Where are the flying cars and full automated houses? Her thoughts careened around her own stagnant life. It was a perfect paradigm of her expectations. She was suppose to be a striving journalist by now. Although she was top in her department, she found no pride in calling herself “Top Blogger”. As for her home-life, her parents suggested staying another year. She had to pay rent and utilities. She didn’t mind. Perhaps she would follow others and stay with her parents to help with their aging needs. Am I conceding? Despair reared its ugly head as the daunting truth of her status became clear.

Humanity’s obscured future hid behind a complex veil riddled with what-ifs. Agriculture flourished across the landscape with its vibrant green cascading canvas as city boundaries withered back. WLC place strict codes on propagation. Families could have a maximum of one child per parent. Adoption agencies regulated regional needs. However, the population crisis changed the world. A collective impulse unfolded revealing a public demand for sterilization. Doctor Kenneth Pulaski developed the uterine arrest procedure (UAP) that gained worldwide popularity. The procedure stopped the uterus from performing its cycles with no need for drugs or extensive operations nor did women suffer from negative side effects. It was as if the organs remained dormant in a simple slumber. Sarah debated on getting this procedure but with a forty-five percent chance of no reverse, she chose abstinence. Sarah couldn’t picture having children. They were messy and demanded a lot of time. Time was one luxury she didn’t have. Her career was her child for the moment. A warm since of pride swelled as she comforted herself in morning muse. She loved being single and not tied down to anyone. Someday she may want to settle and have a family but for now she was content on living in the present. A place where the familiar organization of her daily routine met her ever changing dreams and expectations.

 

Sarah Sarrah 03

 

Date: February 23, 3346

Location: American East Coast Herald, Oceana, VA

Sarah frantically searched each file. Her first report, ready for publishing, vanished. Why was this happening? Why now? Sigs popped in her mind, but he wouldn’t stoop so low as to jeopardize the departments publishing deadline. The assignment was ridiculous, covering sodium oxide solid state batteries. It’s gone. I have to start over again.

She recently transferred from being a clerk to being a blogger. The position was a step up, but not  her desired career. The big topics were calling, and she wanted to paint the scenes with her talent; not covering batteries in a blog. Her first five months flew by fast. Sigs continued his antics. Her profile looked plain and boring to cover up any personal information. Nothing tops the embarrassment of walking into the cafeteria and finding wanted posters of your family. She chuckled..

Sarah recalled her mother’s advise giving her strength to tolerate Sigs’ juvenile actions. ”It’s not what is done to us, it’s how we react, that makes us grow.”

Sarah held her words dear. She had to take responsibility for her actions. The blog needed to be completed again, sent to editing, make corrections, then approved for publishing. Plopping onto her chair, she ceased her search.

Foreman stepped in with an expecting smile. “Got that blog ready for publishing?”

“Unfortunately, My blog evading me at the moment, and I am rewriting it now. “His expression dropped. “Sorry.”

“Do your best.” He encouraged.

The door slowly closed behind him. Foreman exceeded as a boss, and she would not disappoint him. With determination in her eyes Sarah began to piece together her previous composition. An hour had passed and forwarded the revised blog to editing. She rushed to find his desk. Explaining her situation, she returned to her chair. With only and hour left before it was due for publishing, Sarah waited. With fifteen minutes left, her in-box pinged with a return. Quickly, she rummaged through the corrections and sent it up for finalization. She headed out the door to find her approver and explain the situation to him. Anything to expedite this process would save her.

Just as Sarah stepped out of her office Foreman’s voice caught her. “Sarrah, I need you in my office.”

Crap, this can’t be good. She thought as she expected to see Sigs standing at the desk. To her surprise no one was in the office. Perhaps they found the first copy and the publisher sent it to Foreman. Foreman’s words quickly smothered that hope.

“Where is your blog. It’s due for publishing.”

“It’s being finalized as we speak.” She said hoping the approver opened his mail, found the revised copy, and actually started approving it.

“So that’s a no. You do not have a blog ready for publishing.”

A lump formed in her throat. She had failed. Not only did she fail, but she let Foreman down. She respected him and it pained her to see his disappointment.

Sigs entered with a smile. “Here you go Foreman. One finalized blog on solid state batteries and mine on top ten technologies coming next year.” Looking at Sarah he continued. “Don’t worry Sarrah, I remember my first time blogging.”

It took everything to hold her tongue. She kept her composure and maintained her pose as Foreman reviewed Sigs blog.

“This’ll do. Thanks Sigs. I’m not paying you for two blogs though. Your assignment was one blog. However, I will keep this action under advisement. Thank you.”

The door opened again. Bill Hall entered with papers in hand. The thin built, clean shaven, elderly man approached Sarah.

“You’re hard to find today. I’ve been everywhere trying to give you your blog. It’s been finalized and is ready for publishing.”

Sarah thanked him and looked at the paper. Stunned she replied, “This is my original blog Hall. Where did you find it?”

Hall smiled, “I made a copy of it when you had me run it to editing. Your editor mentioned that you  lost the original and had to rewrite the whole thing over. So, I took your original to the approver. I know, only authors make changes.” He signaled with air quotations.  “”But, how many times to I sign documents for you? How many times do I speak on your behalf because you’re too busy.” He looked at Foreman. “I’m the grey area everyone speaks about.”

Foreman interrupted before Hall could continue. “Let me see your blog.”

Reviewing it he turned his attention to Sigs’ report. “Funny, I have two identical blogs with only minor changes to each. One is time-stamped for 10:18 a.m. and the other is time-stamped for 10:32 a.m. It would appear that someone is plagiarizing. This will call for termination.”

“I have zero tolerance for plagiarism. Sarrah you are dismissed for the day. Thank you for your blog. Sigs pack your desk and turn in your PAC. Of all the people here, I cannot believe you would stoop so low.”

Sigs’ rebuttal was cut short as Foreman shouted “GET OUT!”

Sarah jumped from the exclamation as she made her exit. Smiling she turned to Hall and thanked him. He saved her day and her job.

Hall smiled. “We’re a team Sarrah. It’s what we do.”

Sarah Sarrah 

 

Date: September 9, 3345

Location: Oceana, VA

Rain tapping on the window pane beckoned Sarah from her sleep. The reality of her unemployed status and the fact she still lived with her parents added to her dispirited state. The coffee pot’s gurgling interrupted outside’s pitter-pattering. Dad’s awake. She thought, rolling out of bed. Using the kitchen light like a lighthouse, she navigated through the living room. Her father gave his morning salutations as she entered. She poured a cup of coffee and returned the sentiments. His hair stretched out like a jet black octopus. She was sure hers faired no better. Her mother entered, bee-lining to create her morning concoction of joy. Two creamers, two sugars, a splash of coffee, and a sip allowed her to conduct a legitimate conversation.

Sipping their java they conversed about the day’s agenda. For Sarah it was uploading her degree and searching new jobs. Her parents were off to their nine-to-five. Sarah plopped on the couch and updated her online profile. A Master’s degree in journalism, eleven electives, and four internships brought hope. Upon hitting “Submit” eleven job posts pinged. Excited she reviewed each one. Three were from American East Coast Herald, her dream job. The others were B-rate jobs she could tolerate. After reviewing and submitting her acceptance, it was lunchtime.

Three replies illuminated her Sleeve. This device was nothing more than a stretch-material sleeve, encasing a cellphone sized processor, with screen, covering her forearm. Upon looking at the Sleeve, a number 3 blinked in the corner. Sarah listened as each message repeated the same formatted message.

“We appreciate your interest in [said company], but we are regretful in informing you that we have moved forward with other candidates.”

The dark gloomy weather captured the essence of her heart sinking. Failure seemed more real. Grabbing her gym bag, she vowed not to capitulate. The rain, however, fought back. Soaked from waiting for the Metro-bus, she stepped to the curb as the bus approached at a distance. With eyes looking upward, she asked, Could it get worse? Her face met a splash of water from a speeding car. With her body drenched she boarded the bus, found the first open seat, and remained quiet.

After her workout she returned home. Still dripping from her new nemesis, “Rain”, she plopped  on her bed and peeled her sneakers from her feet. Seven pings came in from her sleeve. Nervous, she waited till after the shower to hear the messages. Warm and dried once again, she turned her focus back to her Sleeve. Tears formed as each one repeated the message from earlier. Maybe, it wouldn’t have hit so hard, but two were from the American East Coast Herald. This left only one more chance to land her dream career. Tears fell as she questioned the probability of landing that job. A final ping summoned her from her thoughts. Her world collapsed as she listened to the final message. It would be another thirty days before new posts were available.

After the waterfall of tears subsided, Sarah knew she needed to get out of the house. She didn’t want her parent to come home inquiring, comforting, and recommending. Sarah wanted to let them know on her terms. She needed to set and sort this out on her own.

Setting with a tall coffee and pastry, she noticed her college mentor from her freshman year setting at a table next to her. He smiled and waved her to join him. It was comforting to hear his voice. Soft, yet masculine, she always loved to listen to his wisdom. After explaining her situation, he smiled and asked if he could review her profile. As he scrolled through the pages on his Sleeve, she sat in silence. Her mind raced with dread as the storm outside intensified.

“Are you currently unemployed?” He asked without looking up.

“Yes” she replied with reluctance.

“Then you can drop by my office tomorrow at 9 a.m. I have a starting position for a journalist. It will be a lot of footwork, but I believe you will fit the bill.”

“I’ll be there…” She realized she didn’t know were there was. “Where do you work?”

“New Technology Department at the American East Coast Journal.”

Although the storm didn’t let up, Sarah’s day got a little brighter.