The Formula

Cambridge looked at Smith,
“Did you get it?”
“What?” Smith was pouring over the data. He looked up with a stunned visage, rubbing his eyes.
“Did you get it?”
“Get what?”
“The answer!” Cambridge spun in his seat, the single red sliver of light stabbing through closed drapes, put a spotlight on Smith, who shrugged. “I don’t know if you noticed, but the sun outside is cooking us alive, now if we don’t get that formula …”
“Oh that!?” Smith nodded, “Ya, I’m working on it; shouldn’t be too long!”
There came a beep.
“Ah, there we go!” Smith looked down his nose at the monitor, and there was a complex formula scrolling across the screen.
“What in the hell?” Cambridge whispered.
The formula stopped. It was punctuated with a two digit answer: 42.
“Ha!” Smith clapped, and giggled.
Cambridge stood dumbfounded, his bottom lip hanging loose, and eyes glazed over. “What .. what is that?”
Smith rubbed his hands, “The ideal time to cook the best Fish’n’Chips in the oven: 42 minutes. You hungry? I’m starvin’!”

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