Professor Kyle Jarvis sat behind his large oak desk as the the last dying rays of sunlight filled his room in a wonderful golden hue. Absentmindedly he reached over pulling the metallic cord on the lamp his grand daughter had given him for his birthday. Well, his daughter had given it to him, be she had been insistent that the youngest one had picked it out. It was very old, at least it looked that way, but from the Union markings on it's bottom it couldn't have been made before the mid to late Eighties. It was nice enough, waves of different shades of browns and reds that put him in the mind of the Grand Canyon, with a boring beige and black lampshade.
His fingers raced across the keyboard, as the screen struggled to keep up. That was a small thing he took pride in. No matter what had changed, the human mind was still (for now at least) faster than the machines it had produced. The cursor was still a good five or more characters behind him. It always was when he go into this level of focus. His phone vibrated somewhere in his coat pocket, he hardly heard it. It was like the sound of a far off engine humming quietly. It was probably someone checking to see if he would be home for dinner on time tonight. He thought for a moment of rising to answer, break, talk, but his work needed to be finished. They would understand.
He could see it now, the straight away. He had rounded the final bend as his book was coming to a close. He felt a smile grow on his face, so strong and so wide that it nearly hurt. Then, at last, after nearly a year it was over. He made sure to hit the save button then fell back in his chair. He had been sitting there for... hours. That was his best guess at the least. But his mind and body felt as if he had run the Toronto - New York Marathon. He sighed with relief and reached for his cup of strong black coffee.
Suddenly a soft knock came at the door. He jumped, allowing himself a small scared squeak before looking up. The man standing in the doorway was tall, with an amicable, if not friendly face. He had a look that suggested some amount of Latin, or Native ancestry. His hair and beard were both salt and pepper in colour, now leaning far more towards being over salted. But his dark brown eyes were still young, sharp, with some good humor mixed in. "Up a bit later aren't you Kyle?" The man asked in a baritone voice looking at an old fashioned wrist watch. "Don't you have a full house to get home to?"
Kyle smiled taking up the cup he had been reaching for. "What ever do you mean?" He asked with a smile. "Last time I checked this is where we lived, ate, slept, and died." The two men laughed. Kyle drank from his cup and nearly spat it back out. It was ice cold and bitter. How long had he been sitting here? "Your here late David. Grading papers?" Professor David K. Cohen had been a long time friend, and headed up the University's Anthropology Department.
"No, no. Forgot somethings in the office on my way out. Long weekend and all. My mind must be slipping in my old age. What about you though? Like I said family and all that."
"Ah yes." Kyle said as he dumped his coffee and put on his jacket, he gave his phone a quick check '1 Missed Call: HOME'. "I was just putting the finishing touches on my new book. The first in a series covering most of the twentieth and early twenty first centuries. Until almost the present day. I'm calling it 'The Red Centuries Series'."
David chuckled "Imaginative title."
"Oh quiet you." Kyle said in a mock dismissive manner. "That's not really official. The word "Red" is just in each book title. The first is 'Red Soil: The Great Imperial War 1914-1920'." Kyle tossed on his hat and locked his office door behind him.
"Sounds like a page turner. If you'd like to split a ride you can tell me all about it."
"I'd love to. You'll never guess how it ends." The two men walked out laughing together towards the Trans-Americas Highway as the moon hung over the city bathing it light.
His fingers raced across the keyboard, as the screen struggled to keep up. That was a small thing he took pride in. No matter what had changed, the human mind was still (for now at least) faster than the machines it had produced. The cursor was still a good five or more characters behind him. It always was when he go into this level of focus. His phone vibrated somewhere in his coat pocket, he hardly heard it. It was like the sound of a far off engine humming quietly. It was probably someone checking to see if he would be home for dinner on time tonight. He thought for a moment of rising to answer, break, talk, but his work needed to be finished. They would understand.
He could see it now, the straight away. He had rounded the final bend as his book was coming to a close. He felt a smile grow on his face, so strong and so wide that it nearly hurt. Then, at last, after nearly a year it was over. He made sure to hit the save button then fell back in his chair. He had been sitting there for... hours. That was his best guess at the least. But his mind and body felt as if he had run the Toronto - New York Marathon. He sighed with relief and reached for his cup of strong black coffee.
Suddenly a soft knock came at the door. He jumped, allowing himself a small scared squeak before looking up. The man standing in the doorway was tall, with an amicable, if not friendly face. He had a look that suggested some amount of Latin, or Native ancestry. His hair and beard were both salt and pepper in colour, now leaning far more towards being over salted. But his dark brown eyes were still young, sharp, with some good humor mixed in. "Up a bit later aren't you Kyle?" The man asked in a baritone voice looking at an old fashioned wrist watch. "Don't you have a full house to get home to?"
Kyle smiled taking up the cup he had been reaching for. "What ever do you mean?" He asked with a smile. "Last time I checked this is where we lived, ate, slept, and died." The two men laughed. Kyle drank from his cup and nearly spat it back out. It was ice cold and bitter. How long had he been sitting here? "Your here late David. Grading papers?" Professor David K. Cohen had been a long time friend, and headed up the University's Anthropology Department.
"No, no. Forgot somethings in the office on my way out. Long weekend and all. My mind must be slipping in my old age. What about you though? Like I said family and all that."
"Ah yes." Kyle said as he dumped his coffee and put on his jacket, he gave his phone a quick check '1 Missed Call: HOME'. "I was just putting the finishing touches on my new book. The first in a series covering most of the twentieth and early twenty first centuries. Until almost the present day. I'm calling it 'The Red Centuries Series'."
David chuckled "Imaginative title."
"Oh quiet you." Kyle said in a mock dismissive manner. "That's not really official. The word "Red" is just in each book title. The first is 'Red Soil: The Great Imperial War 1914-1920'." Kyle tossed on his hat and locked his office door behind him.
"Sounds like a page turner. If you'd like to split a ride you can tell me all about it."
"I'd love to. You'll never guess how it ends." The two men walked out laughing together towards the Trans-Americas Highway as the moon hung over the city bathing it light.
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