3

Looking back now it's slightly odd how restrained the reactions were. The movies would have had us believe some sort of Armaggeddon had been set upon the earth. Within moments of the opening scene there would have been violence and gunfire and looting and spontaneously combusting buildings. But save for the salvation/damnation shouters there wasn't much different about the feel of things. Obviously we have hindsight, and we all know what happened, but for there to be normality in the circumstances was, ironically, truly extraordinary. maybe it's because we're trained to simply accept whatever is happening, as if it's all behind a television screen, somehow filtered from us actually experiencing things. Although suffering from de-sensitisation when we're all hearing the Voice of God seems taking things a step too far; I can't really explain it, because I was one of those who simply accepted it as happening, before wanting to place that screen once more between myself and the real world experience. Talking to each other. Actually talking, genuinely listening, not being interested in point scoring or worrying about saying the right thing, or the next great witty and pithy viral internet quote. It was something he'd seek to teach us, in time, but right then I was walking through the big black door, and on past the glass barrier over the polished floor, Bruce on reception looking professional as ever. Not even twenty yet, but immaculately turned out every single day, except for his hair. It's not that it's a 'glam-rock-cut-your-hair-you-hippy' sort of mop, but rather that it's a bit too perfectly styled. Modern. Catwalk edgy.

I shouldn't hold it against him. But I do.

"Hey Bruce."

"Oh, hi Chris. Sorry, I was in a world of my own I was just... er..."

"Right, so you heard it as well?"

"The... the..."

"Voice. Yes." I'm not sure I'd ever seen Bruce flustered. Or caught him checking out the internet while on duty. "Told us to stop a couple of times? Then something about his son?"

"I thought it was someone messing about with the intercom. But there's no-one else here."

"Has anyone come in since?"

"No, you're first in. What, eh, what was it?"

He actually looked scared. I forgot all about his hair. "Well... My guess would be that some sort of omnipotent being, probably God Himself, though I'm only implying this through his reference to his son, has spoken to mankind."

"Fuck off!" Now Bruce, that wasn't terribly professional was it?

"Fuck on Bruce, fuck on. Seriously, I don't know what else it could be. What's the news saying about it?" I nod my head towards the computer and he becomes flustered once more.

"I wasn't... No... You won't tell Carla will you?" Carla was our combined office and IT manager, but more office than IT, which meant that our IT policy was that certain sites and the like were blocked, without them actually being blocked. Actually, she was normally in the office long before any of the rest of the thirty or so members of staff. One message from God and the correct administration of the workplace goes to ruin.

[524/1622words]