By Fiona Czerniawska.
In the corner of a cavernous office, Cindy is sitting at her desk, papers are stacked in heaps. Around her motes of dust dance in the early sun.
She blinks: “Dawn? Already?”
She runs her hands through her hair and rubs her eyes. “We’re just drowning in all these journal entries.” She looks across at two figures slumped, asleep at their desks. “Tim? Jeff? Where’s Megan?”
Immediately they’re awake. “She was here last night, going through that pile of invoices,” says Tim. “We can’t have… not again…” Ping! They all turn to look at Megan’s laptop, where the message ‘software upgraded’ is flashing.