Interruptions

The programmer sat uneasily.

So far he's been trying to make the greatest program ever made.He's almost there - so close, to making it.
He had spent day and night, thinking about it in his head - the modules floated above him, tantalizing, waiting to come into existence.

It would torture him when he would be at work, "wouldn't you rather be doing something else" a voice inside him would ask.

Yes, yes he would - he would say. As soon as he got back home. To his computer, desperately waiting for the gong to strike in it head,and the ideas to flow.

Yet, they would not come. The ideas would simply not come.

It was like a tap had gone dry, inside his mind.

He banged his fist at the keyboard, the frustration virtually piling up inside him, every second crashing into him, like awave. What was there to stop him? what was it, deep down inside him that stopped him from projecting the ideas that would make or break mankind?

He came back to his senses.There was no one else in the room, no one but himself.

"Tomorrow, then" he muttered to himself.

"Tomorrow, i will finish it for sure"