Joan Has a Visitor

The computer, the one sitting on the dining room table, longing for a desk of its own rather than the protrusion of being continually out of place, was humming loudly thanks to its internal fans that spoke of much being done to keep it busy. Penny could not see from her vantage point what was on the screen as Joan's body took up the space of the monitor. Joan seemed completely absorbed in whatever she was typing, typing at what seemed an insane pace. Penny paused before intruding, waiting for a break in the typing. It did not come. On and on Joan's fingers taped across the keyboard. No hesitation, no pause. Just deliberate typing, a rhythm almost.

Penny watched for a another few moments. Joan's spine was completely erect. Penny could not remember if Joan had always had such posture. Somehow, it seemed out of place. It was like watching a very mechanical robot, devoid of human gesture, doing a repetitive job.

"Hello," Penny said more to the room than anything, while knocking lightly on the wall. No response. The same rhythm.

Clack, clack, clack, clackety clack.
Clack, clack, clack, clackety clack.
Clack, clack, clack, clackety clack.
Clack, clack, clack, clackety clack.
Clack, clack, clack, clackety clack.

Joan did not even flinch at the sound, not even a minimal break in concentration for there was no break.

Clack, clack, clack, clackety clack.
Clack, clack, clack, clackety clack.
Clack, clack, clack, clackety clack.

Enough, though Penny. This is nuts. So, she walked closure to the figure typing away. Still no response.

Clack, clack, clack, clackety clack.
Clack, clack, clack, clackety clack.

Penny could not decide if she was becoming frayed by this odd behavior, genuinely creepy in its precision of rhythm. Step by step, each a little more hesitant that the last, Penny came to a stop directly behind Joan. Were her thoughts beginning to take on the rhythm of the typing? She was now close enough to see the computer monitor, but it did her no good. She could not read it. It was in a combination of hexi-decimal coding and Greek, or it may as well have been. Had Joan learned a new coding language? Penny had no idea the younger girl was interested in such things.

As Penny leaned down to get a better look, her arm brushed against Joan.

"Sorry," Penny said faintly, suddenly aware that the typing had stopped. How slowly time suddenly moved. Each tick of a second was loudly punctuated as if this was a tragedy unfolding. The figure still sat rigidly facing the computer. Then slowly, as though its neck would creak, it turned its head sideways toward Penny.

Penny was not aware that she had started to hold her breath. All she knew was that somehow, she was in a different consciousness than her real world, and she really was ready to wake up. As the figure turned its head, slowly rotating its eyes to meet hers, Penny heard the scream, and even heard the lack of air that made it gurgle to a stop.

She stumbled backwards, gasping, seeing the blue lips of death grin at her, and the eyes deplete of color or pupil that gazed into her own.