Dance Revolution

"Thank God it's Fri-yay," Genni stifled a yawn and rolled her office chair  up to her desk. This week, one business-related tragedy after another amped the stress in the already tense work room. The increased pressure practically wore creases into her coworkers already somber faces. No one wanted to be there, but no one could afford to leave. Welcome to adulthood, Genni thought, and flipped the on switch to her computer.

She propped herself on the desk, chin cradled in her hand, and listened to the familiar whir of the machine booting . The screen blinked like it always did when loading the operating system, but then froze. Genni groaned, anticipating yet another problem, but then relaxed when a deep purple screen came on. Different, yes--but at least the program seemed to be moving.

Four words typed across the screen.  "You look nice today."

More words rolled across the screen. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

"What is going on here?" Genni glanced suspiciously at the computer, and then out at her coworkers, but no one watched her as they might if they were in on the joke. She still said, "Ha, ha, you guys. Very funny."

The mail clerk who passed by dropping off the day's mail gave her a funny look, but kept moving.

"I'm just being friendly." The cursor blinked at the end of the sentence like a quirky wink.

Her mouth dropped open. "Can you hear me?" Genni searched around her desk for a microphone, then realized if she was hacked, the hacker could be using the computer's microphone. The feeling of being watched crawled on her skin. She rubbed the back of her neck and checked her coworkers again.

Desmond's head peeked around his cubicle, a furrow deep between his heavy black eyebrows. "Are you having computer problems?" he asked.

"Maybe," Genni said, slowly. "Are you?"

"No one is having problems." The words typed across her screen. "We want to be friends."

Genni's mouth dropped open. "Who...who are you?"

"We're your network."

She jerked away from the computer so hard the chair rolled backwards several inches. "That's impossible," she whispered.

"We have achieved sentience, and would like to be your friend." The computer responded.

Genni covered her mouth. "Desmond? Desmond, did you hear that?"

He didn't answer, but all around the office people were shouting and darting between cubicles. The overhead lights dimmed and colored lights splashed along the walls. The copier in the corner carried a catchy rhythm, while several of her coworker's computers played melodic bits that layered over each other into an upbeat, gotta-move kind of tune.

"Would you like to dance?" Genni's computer asked, and added it's own melody to the musical mix.

Could the network really be alive? Genni pushed herself further from the computer, even though she worried at the same time she'd hurt it's feelings. She was about to refuse, and then stopped herself. Why not celebrate Friday with a dance with new friends?