The man in the ‘You Are Here’ shirt stood with obvious weariness, which was for once not a byproduct of a sedentary lifestyle and more to do with abject demoralization. He took a lingering glance and the screen and the sea of blinking lights on the servers.

His fellow rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I…I know what it would have meant to you to have found something, even the smallest hint. I’m…you know. I’m sorry.”

The awkward silence of men sharing an emotional moment ensued. One of them shifted and crunched a long empty Doritos bag under foot.

“Hey, that’s science. Not about what you want but about discovering truth. That’s what matters. Besides, it’s not like it’s your fault.”

“Nope, definitely not my fault.” He watched his friend go, shoulders more slumped than usual, gate more plodding than ever. Unable to bear the dejected sight, his eyes drifted back to the computer screen. The apology had been sincere, its intent genuine.

He decided to call the statement about fault a fib.