Prologue

Abstract

In the word-processing pool it is 11:00 AM. The operator adjusts her headphones and keys in the next piece of work from the invisible bank of taped dictation. The screen cursor moves to the starting position for the standard format for this type of document, ensuring that it will in every way be identical to similar documents produced by her colleagues. Numbers in the top corner of the screen denote her code number, the time, and tell her that it is the sixth piece of work she has started that morning. There is no indication of how many more items are reposing in the tape bank. She pauses for a moment and gratefully takes the cup of sweetened coffee from the adjacent cart. She glances around. All the operators’ eyes glued to their screens, their fingers quietly pattering the keys in the subdued lighting of the office. Swiftly but deliberately she puors coffee over the high-tach keyboard. The screen goes blank.