[i]Clack Clack Clack[/i]

Hunched over in his chair, Rooke typed away incessantly at his computer, the only light illuminating the dark room he had been in for the past 5 hours.  He leaned back in his chair and brushed away a stray lock that fell carelessly in his line of sight.  His half empty coffee cup, cold to the touch, sat next to him as he removed his glasses.  He exhaled heavily and pinched his nose, rubbing the corners of his eyes.  

Taking a cursory look at the screen, he went over the document one last time.  His eyes raked over the title, [i]“Conformity in Action: An In-Depth Analysis on the Recent History of Synergy, Bending, and The Republic”[/i], the subtitles, the content.  With a tired, nonsensical mutter, he pressed down on the enter key decisively and shut his laptop, moving to place it inside his bag.  

He checked his watch.  2:20 AM.  

He turned on his heel and exited his office into the main laboratory.  There were no lights to shut off; moonlight leaking in from the rooftop windows gleamed off the metal and glass of the objects in the room, making them seem eerily impersonal.  Leaving the building, he located his car under the light of a flickering lamp and sped away.

It wasn’t a surprise that the lights were on when he arrived home.  He pushed past the gate and approached the front door, unlocked upon his arrival.  Rookie shrugged off his coat and lay his bag near the hanger before entering the kitchen.

“Still up? You should be resting,” he said lightly, with a small smile.  

An elderly woman, who sat at the table with a stack of papers in one hand and a hot mug of tea in the other, grinned at him before saying, ”You know I’ve got the energy and heart of any person your age."

“Yes, you do, and it astounds me everyday.” He grabbed a porcelain cup from the cabinets and poured Jasmine tea into it, watching the steam coil and rise, “I finished the revisions today—just submitted it your favorite journal."

She closed her eyes and nodded sagely, “Good to hear. I do love ’Science of The Republic’.  Despite the damnable title, it’s a good source."  She motioned to the chair next to her and said, ”Come here and stop hunching your back—you look like you’re 50." 

Rooke smiled and sat down, cupping the warm cup with both hands.  His reflection looked back at him, and he realized how haggard he looked; crow’s feet, droopy eyes, and frayed hair stared back at him.

They sat in relative silence, before his grandma reached out a wrinkled hand to grasp his own.

“Rooke,” she said softly, “This is killing you.  I know you, and I know The Republic—they're twisting your work."

He barked out a laugh and shook his head, ”Killing me? That’s a bit of an exaggeration.  I understand what you’re saying, but there is nowhere else I would have the resources and reputation that I have now.” 

Rooke downed the last of his tea, ignoring the burning sensation that crawled through his throat and rested in his stomach.  He looked his grandmother in the eye and gave her hand a tight squeeze, and said, ”I know you worry, but I enjoy what I do. Do I agree with the way the government utilizes all of my work? No. But that's a mistake I won’t make again."

She eyed him tiredly and responded, ”We’ve been through this; as long as you work for them, you perpetuate what you don’t believe in.  It’s no longer a matter of personal ideology."

He bit back a retort and smoothed his hair back before standing to leave.  He moved to kiss his grandmother on the forehead and stopped at the doorway; "Tomorrow I’ll be focusing on Constructive Synergy Tech again.  I won’t let his vision waste away. Goodnight Gran.” He smiled softly turned away; Shadows emphasizing the lines on his face and his smile dropped into a tired frown.  With half lidded eyes, Rooke sluggishly climbed the steps to his room, before collapsing on the bed and towards the relief of sleep.