🩳Deus Ex Machina

A short story

The tiny office inside my computer had come to life, and it was angry.

This was a prank. It had to be.

I poked my head over top of my cubicle, searching for predators like a wounded prairie dog. No one seemed to be watching. Around me, the office buzzed with its typical hubbub of ringing phones, muttered voices, and clackety-clacks, punctuated with the occasional sneeze.

I rested back into my seat. Adjusting my blue-light blocking glasses. My hand scratched my budding red scruff.

The spreadsheet contained a list of names and numbers that, in theory, did not exist. At least, not in the real world. So “Fenimore,” for instance, was just a name. A name made of pixels on a computer file. A name that shouldn’t have been able to take any action on its own. A name that shouldn’t have been able to embezzle imaginary funds. Lots, and lots, of imaginary funds. All the funds, in fact.