I’ve been here twenty minutes, sat staring at the screen and very nearly bored to tears, though the boards and dials surrounding the monitor are lit up like a fairground and amuse me as I pretend to know what everything does and means.
I’ve been ordered to “be quiet and don’t touch anything…not anything.” I sigh. I shouldn’t be here, but I’m small enough to sit right out of the way and Pop says it’s okay.
It’s the orange button that intrigues me, not the red one or the green one, nor the dials and flashing yellow lights on the left hand display, it’s the orange one on the right that has my finger hovering.
When I finally press it there is no click, no flash, no beep or warning, nothing, only the pale and horrified stare that my father wears, the one that usually means I’ll get a thrashing…then all hell lets loose…