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They had been working on decoding the data stream for months now, using almost half the total analytical capability available on the entire internet. The signal coming from deep space was definitely unlike anything known to human kind. And they had made exactly zero progress, until one day Kelly was working from home. His two year old daughter looked up at the numbers pouring down his computer screen like a waterfall, pointed at them and said cheerfully, “Flowers!” Kelly absent-mindedly glanced at the screen, and it jumped out at him. “Holy Cow,” he gasped, “there’s a pattern!”
By tonykeyesjapan URL on 04.13.2014
They look at me like I’m words on a book: my arms form lines, my torso is curved, there is an opening in my mouth like the space in the middle of an ‘O’.
If words are hairs on my head, I am bald, and they hold my locks like a wig.
By Caramel URL on 04.13.2014
She knew that she was analytical, but she didn’t care. It was one of her positive traits as well as something that got in her way. It consumed her thinking to the point that she wondered if she was obsessive compulsive. She was always analyzing things.
By Crystal URL on 04.13.2014
She is analytical. She counts the times you smile at her. She counts the times her soul frightened by your appearance. She wants to disappear when she knows you there. She analyzes the way you talk to her, the way your big smile frightened her, the ingredients of your muscles, the way her shape of teeth same like yours, the way she goes to the same place with you, the way she gets the chance to know your family, also the way her relatives welcomed happily by your father. She analyzes everything. She talks to her friends about those facts. Her friends tease her, that she is destined to be with you. She foresees that possibility. Her dad, her family, her big family, her family tree. Her pride and her prejudice. Your sister, your mother, your father, your grandfather. Your pride and your prejudice. No, she cannot be, her mind whispers. Yet her heart tells her to be with you.
By Eligia V. A. URL on 04.13.2014
it wasnt the best idea, but i did it anyway. i dont know why, i dont know who told me to, but i did it. i took her in. even though i would never do anything like this in my life, i took in this little girl i found on the side of the road. she was sad, lonely, and her clothes were ragged and torn. i always thought i would never take in someone just because they were sitting on the side of the road. i still did it. i asked her to get into the backseat of the car. she bowed and mumbled a small thank you, climbing into the car. there was something about her i really liked, but im not sure what it was. maybe it was the way she looked just like my daughter.
By Half Full on 04.13.2014
As usual, she was being analytical. Boring the socks off some for an hour and a half was something she did without even trying, but Nathalie was bored. Holy hell, was she ever bored. Then she closed her eyes. She needed to see something more exciting. It was time for her to drift off to her dream world where she could be with her friends, and forget she was in a stuffy classroom.
By Natalie Thompson on 04.13.2014
it is critical
to not be too
It has been said that
ours is not to ask why
ours is to do or die
So don’t make a big fuss
It just isn’t up to us
By Aley URL on 04.13.2014
It’s what an officer worker is. It’s the color of a blatant gray, an office, clear of cluster or papers. You math professor, solving a problem. It’s the smart kid in your class, eyebrows scrunched together trying to figure out his problem he’s working on. It’s the world moving forward.
By Erin Haag URL on 04.13.2014
“What does ‘analytical’ mean?” Jed asked.
“If you would be analytical, you wouldn’t always run into problems,”
his brother answered with a smirk.
“It means using your head,” their father added.
“Guess you weren’t analytical when your girlfriend left you,” Jed said, returning a smirk to his brother.
By Krystyna Fedosejevs on 04.13.2014
He hadn’t really thought about what would happen. He just knew it had to end. This was the reason he never married. His gut dictated his every move. It had to. As a doctor he had stored all the information needed to know how to perform procedures, diagnose disease, etc. But the most important tool he had to rely on was his instinct which was nearly always dead on. If he stopped to think, his brain would get in the way and thoughts, all random and generally irrelevant, would flood his mind and he would start to panic. That is what happened the day Missy disappeared.
By Beka URL on 04.13.2014
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.