Edmund sat at the desk, absently chewing his thumbnail, while he scanned the data streaming across his desktop's monitor. He found himself wishing, for about the hundredth time, that they would at least let him smoke in his own office. The whole world was dying of the flu and there was still a concern about secondhand smoke? Christ.
With his hands laced behind his balding pate Edmund stretched until he heard an angry creaking sound. At five foot eight and pushing two hundred and…