The next day and the screen was on again. Neville spat out his coffee, which dribbled onto the carpet. He’d turned the computer off and unplugged it!
He bent down under the table, but the plug was firmly back in its socket. He was dizzy, light-headed. His hands grasped the desk and he pulled himself back to his feet.
Here we are, one day closer now. Ease of mind will come soon.
Again the words seemed to lift off the screen and imprint themselves into his eyes. Had someone snuck into his house last night and put the plug back in, all so he could wake up to see that message? No, that was absurd. Who in his life knew him who would want to do something like that? No, it couldn’t be that. He remembered unplugging that machine. But if it wasn’t someone else who plugged it back in. That could only mean he was delusional.
He darted around from room to room, scrambling and knocking things around in his search for duct tape. The floors were scattered with items by the time he found it.
He ripped the cord out of the socket, shutting the screen off in an instant. This time, he taped the cord to the desk leg, spinning the roll around and around until the cord and the plug were completely covered by a thick, silvery mound of tape. He stood up, rested his hand on his guy, and laughed. Let’s see that thing turn on now.
He spent the next half-hour cleaning up everything he’d spilling onto the floor, carefully filing everything back to where it belonged. He noted the coffee stains on the carpet, but by the time he got to those, he was so exhausted from picking up everything else, and so scatter-brained, that he couldn’t work up the will to do anything other than tell himself he’d get to it later. He went to bed early that night.