quantities

Bearing documents requiring a signature, Sarah, a corporate employee of one-eighth of a year, cautiously approached Rutherford's lair. Every step closer to his cubicle brought on a wave of dizziness. She was lightheaded. Her coworkers' advice flashed through her head, quickly followed by images of her life-story.

She crossed the threshold.

There he was, his back to the entrance, typing rhythmically. Sarah stood tremulous, temporarily stricken dumb, and transfixed by the almost trance-inducing marathon of numbers appearing in successive Excel spreadsheet fields. He, also, appeared to be in a trance-like state.

Rutherford was facing away.

Wisely, Sarah recovered her bearings, turned around, and slowly skulked back to her own desk.