The jagged geometric lines crossed and layered and met. Each time one was drawn, another section of the screen fell away, another space filled, another colour flickering in the dark room. At an even pace, within a few minutes, the area would be a palette of violently bright pixels. The process was being recorded. It would be transposed onto a film of the latest models in production and shown at the next conference.
BBC Computers – National Museum of Computing
Patrick gingerly ventured into the empty building. The door hadn’t been too difficult to budge. His hands felt grubby from the layered cobwebs and dust. Up the stairs and to the left. No clocking in this time. His old desk still sat in the small dank office, the door was ajar, his name etched on a bronze plaque. Patrick Flint, Manager. He hadn’t worked since.