Nothing

by Che Monro

Greg frowned at the figures on the screen in front of him and looked up to find his coworker David Hackenbush frowning idly out the window of their shared office. "It doesn't make sense," Greg complained. "These figures make no sense at all."

 There was no reply from David, perhaps a faint grunt, that was all. Greg looked back to the share prices on the screen and scowled at them. Moving the pointer and clicking the mouse he called up the futures exchange. "Damn. Look at this - wheat, the same price a year from now as today. Iron, oil, gold... all the same. Damn. The same down to a tenth point. Even closer some of them, exactly the same. What the hell is going on?"

 David looked up and nodded slowly, then returned to his study of the window.

 He closed the futures window and went to study bond rates. "What is wrong with this market?" he growled. "There's no life in it today, no change. Everything the same. Bond rates are falling to three percent. Three percent next year. Three percent for ten years. Three percent for a hundred bloody years, I bet. Damn." He gritted his teeth and shook his head. Something was wrong. He felt like he should be angry, furious about this, but it was hard to make the effort to concentrate on it. He sighed and glanced over to see what David found so fascinating about the view out the window.

 Nothing. It was a normal day outside, a bit quiet. In fact he couldn't hear any traffic noises, which was odd for the busy heart of the financial district. He reached up and loosened his tie as he looked down at the street. There were cars down there but they weren't moving.  It was quiet, he couldn't even hear the normal office noises, the photocopier, phones ringing, the air conditioner, all silent. He continued to stare out the window, blinking slowly.

 How long had he been staring? He wondered vaguely if he should get back to work, but the impulse felt vague, disconnected, unimportant. He gazed at a pigeon flying past, its wings arched back, studying the soft grey shine of its feathers in the sunlight. With a numb sense of surprise he realized that it wasn't moving, just hanging there in mid air. He continued to look at it. Grey, grey, grey...

 "Um.. Did you say something?' Mike asked slowly, woodenly.

 "Nothing," he muttered.