“Heh”

John tips back the last of his (increasingly cold) coffee, lowering the metal cup back towards the arm rest slowly.

“Athena…”

His voice rolls into the empty quarters like a coin dropping into a metal can. The air is thick, warm from the exhaust of the computers, and heavy with the smell of sweat.

“…run the diagnostics again. Scan every inch of Chamber 7.”

“Yes, John.”

The lifelike, yet somehow stiff voice of the computer chipped back. Her voice comforted John, even though it never failed to creep on him just a bit. On some nights, he could close his eyes, and just for a few seconds, imagine he was at home, talking with his wife over that fancy dinner they never seemed to be able to afford.

John was having one of those nights.

“Chamber 7 readings are consistent with the readings of the same chamber at 7:49 AM this morning. Temperature is 71 degrees Fahrenheit. Airflow is steady. Electrical reading is…”

John knows these readings well enough to know when to tune out, and when to tune in.