Control

Having gotten this statement out with some semblance of dignity, Kyle proceeded to hold his breath. The Director looked at him. Or rather, the Director's eyes rolled over Kyle's person like a large truck with no brakes rolls over a bump in the road, continuing their ponderous course over the door, the desk, and finally slowing to a top looking out the window.

Kyle waited.

The Director continued to stare out the window at nothing in particular.

Kyle started to fidget, twitching his right knee back and forth inside his trouser leg, and touching each fingertip of his left hand to his left thumb in turn -- index, middle, ring, pinkie, ring, middle index -- over and over. He went over the protocols in his head to see if there was an additional prompt he was supposed to give to the Director, some additional magic words. That was a dead end. "If an atypical observation within the atmosphere is made, report IMMEDIATELY to the Director." The Director was supposed to take it from here. Was there a chance he had not heard? Was there a chance Kyle had been unclear? What had he said, exactly? "There's a cloud over LA." Seemed clear enough. Middle, ring, pinkie, index, middle. Shit, shit, shit.

Kyle wondered if there was any chance he could just go back to his post now. He had completed the duties immediately required of him, and whatever the next phase was here, the Director could just let him know through the usual channels. He was about to turn and quietly walk out when the Director spoke.

"Haven't you always wondered what it would be like?"

Kyle's fingers stopped tapping. "Sir?"

"Haven't you always wondered? Just once - to see something uncontrolled. To just let it go."

Kyle was 24 years old and had never really questioned authority. You did not come to work here if you were the kind of person who liked to question authority. You came to work here if rules made you feel secure, knowing who was in control made you feel safe, and be able to follow protocols made you feel like you were doing a good job. This was a dream job for Kyle. But now, just at this moment, he suddenly did not feel safe nor secure. And he was feeling mightily uncertain about his job performance, too.

“Shit …shit … shit.” Kyle was desperately fighting off panic. He was teetering on the edge of hyperventilating and every exhalation came out as muted, breathless, “shit.” His shoes were clicking on the finely polished hallway in abnormal time as he alternately submitted to and then mastered his urge to break into a full sprint towards the director’s office.

When the warning light first came on, he assumed it was a joke. He was settling into his second month on the job and the hazing had slowed down some, but he was still the new guy. He had looked over his shoulder and walked up to the observation room expecting find someone giggling uncontrollably. But there had been no one. He returned to his station and ran a diagnostic, refusing to believe the warning was real. The diagnostic came back clean.

Kyle still felt it was some sort of hoax, the elaborate finale to his co-workers shenanigans. He opened the door to the great hall expecting a crowd to shout “Gotcha!” The hall was silent. With growing uncertainty he returned to his monitor and he opened the folder with the protocols. If he was to play the fool, he was going to do it by the book.

He checked the ground sensors, the buoys, the radar, and they told him the same story as the flashing warning light, which had not ceased. With a growing sense of dread he tasked a satellite. It took five minutes, and he waited with his hands covering his eyes. He looked up and saw nothing, but before his heart was halfway up his throat he realized the infrared filter was switched off. He punched three keys and he saw it with his own eyes. Blinked. Saw it again. Looked at the protocols, and began his chorus of shits on the way down the hall.

Why had he rushed down towards this door when he would do anything to avoid the conversation he was about to have? Because the protocols were clear and there was nothing else to do. He closed his eyes, stood up straight, took a deep breath and released it with a shit-free exhale. He did not knock, he turned the handle and strode inside.

This was the first time he had been in this office, some employees could go their entire careers without seeing the inside of it. That’s how well the system ran, and that’s how extraordinary this situation was. The director’s desk was empty, but Kyle quickly spotted him in the corner, standing in the shadows. The Director stepped into the light and Kyle did not hesitate. “Sir,” in the clearest, surest voice he could muster, “there’s a cloud over LA.”