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Rated: E · Other · Thriller/Suspense · #1098520
Please review for clarity and excitement in a very short piece

Prologue


Today
SETI control module, Very Large Array radio facility, Northern New Mexico


“This one belongs over here. And this one is garbage.”
Twenty wide and seven tall, a matrix of eleven and a half by twelve inch sheets is covers the office wall like a cross word puzzle. Each consists of a random collection of a hundred dots, like a dart board without the target. Every frame a different pattern, with only a series of alphanumerics as a legend.
“Something is missing…” he says to no one in particular.
An improbably short scientist with a tangled mop of red hair, Jim Harland, prowls the board. He rips off a sheet, studies it carefully, then carefully replaces it. Others he pins back seemingly at random. Others he lets drop to the floor. He is one year into a post-doctoral fellowship, at the ‘fringe’ Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence (SETI) facility. He steps back to review his progress.
“No, no. That’s not right.” Others peek out of their cubicles, curious.
“He’s not altogether, I tell you.”
“Just watch him.”
“Where the hell is A142-B?” Jim calls out.
“I’ll re-create it, Dr. Harland,” replies a ward clerk. Ripping the warm sheet from the printer, he says, “Here it is, at the end of row gamma.” Jim scrambles to his right, to the last column of images and knocks the tall brunette over. Her glasses skitter on the grey lenolium floor. He rips the sheet from its tack and pins it in front of one somewhere in the middle of the display.
“You idiot!” she shouts to the tails of the white coat as Dr. Harland already has his nose up to A142-B, now in its proper location, presumably. She turns to the SETI floor supervisor, the venerable Dr. Schwartschild, and says, “You see what I mean? He has no respect. You said you would talk to him!”
“Yes, well, I see. Yes. Hmmm.” Then louder, “Jim! I want to see you in my office.” Then he adds, “Now, please.”
Jim says nothing, but sinks back into his own cubicle directly opposite the center of the wall screen and stares at A142-B. There is silence, as everyone else stares at Jim; as the dots on the wall stare at them all, like ten thousand dumb alien eyes.
Suddenly Jim stands up, eyes still riveted on the display. “Schwartsy! I’d like to see you in my office. Now!”
© Copyright 2006 DavidDavinci (daviddickerman at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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