"It's finally done.", he says to himself.
A key combination flashes through his mind. :wq
His fingers typed it in for him. Each key stoke came with a satisfying clack. You could barely say that he was controlling his fingers anymore. After 10 short years of practice they now read his mind and bring those thoughts to light. With the comfort of the custom keyboard with custom keys and lovingly chosen switches his hands now rest comfortably on the home row. The screen flashes. He's back to the terminal.
The left hand taps rhythmic on the up arrow. The history of tonight's session appear one by one. Edits, executions, and the wrangling of daemons. The intense focus of the last moment vanished and now Victor sits there in a strange stupor similar to walking into a room and realizing that you've forgotten why you've came.
"Oh yes. That."
His fingers dance on the keys but the final stoke lacked the finesse of the others. It resounded with a thud.
Packets fly and logs fill the screen. His script is tearing down all saved to the cloud. His failed project. His failed dream.
The lines stop and Victor stands up and closes his laptop. With bloodshot eyes he retires to his bed.