Fallout

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Harris Clemmons watched the world end on a ten-inch monitor screen from the second subbasement floor of Kobak, Stewart, and Lane Securities. It wasn’t hard to miss. He was watching for it. People running, an abundance of interference on his screens, a distant flash, then nothing.

Now he sat in a room built for such an event.

Twenty-four hours had passed.

Harris was alone. He didn’t need to be. That was something he grappled with.

He had worked security there and had done so for six years. He usually worked the second shift; he preferred it. Harris wasn’t a morning person and liked to stay up late and binge watch old television shows. The second shift worked perfectly for him.

It was a pretty cool job. Easy, too.

Most days were spent swiveling back and forth in his chair while watching the wall of monitors that spanned the office building and exterior doors.

Camera A2 was a wide-angled street view. How many times did he have to pull footage for the police because of a theft or accident?

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