The Door

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He sat at his desk, sifting as usual.

Data, data and more data. Nothing but piles of code to sift through, stacks of people’s personal lives that at one point he thought would be interesting and exciting. Two straight years or seeing that everyone else was just an human as he was. Two straight years of peeking behind the curtain to see a naked overweight fifty year old woman with serious allergies to whey, an addiction to QVC and an unhealthy obsession for Dancing with the Stars.

The sifter was the lowest of the low on the digital totem pole. Associates sat squarely on top of them, pushing and hounding them for certain patterns and asking out-of-left-field questions.

“Any spikes in the apple market today?”

“Do you mean Apple Computers or apple, like in… apples you eat?”

“Apples you eat!”

Questions like this were common. He had to sit and think back on the Record, truly considering if he had really seen what the Associates were looking for.

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