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Maybe the last string of numbers has something to tell us." She mouse-clicked the auto-save file and opened it in her Excel spreadsheet. A blizzard of numbers drifted across the monitor's screen before freezing in place at the end of the transmission. "Interesting, let's go visual." Two or three fast mouse clicks transformed the row of digits into a three-dimensional emerald green bar graph twinkling against a black background. "Ahh ha! Got it!" She whooped with glee as she zoomed to the final moments before the line went offline. "See?" she cried the instant the panels' flat-line trickle of sunset power started to spike. "In the final tenth of a second, we captured the first moments of the event." her long slender finger traced the nearly vertical slope of the bar graph. Death was not instantaneous; it took one-twentieth of a second for the line to die. The last five frames of our digital movie tell us a story. In that sliver of time, current surged from nine to over seventy. We parked and took MARTA to the finish line to wait on the runners. As we mixed with the crowd we both started getting sweaty and this helped make her top more see through. Once she whispered to me that someone had run their hand up her leg in the crowd. I knew this might happen. I asked she wanted to leave? She said no I'm OK. She excused herself to go to the rest room and get us a cold drink. I held our spot up front at the rope. I was bargaining to worry after close to an hour had passed before she came back. I asked if the line was long? She said that isn't the only thing that was. I took me drink and we watched as the first runner came to the finish line, no big surprise he was was a skinny black guy from some shit hole country. We stayed untill the slow walkers started crossing the finish line. She said I'm ready to go.I agreed and we found a MARTA bus headed back to the lot we parked in. Once in the car I got the AC cranked up on high and started to pull out of the lot. My wife.
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