Hank's thoughts were dominated by a song and his futile attempts to not think about it. Luke listened, amused, and recognized AC/DC.

You (You!) shook me all night long!

You (You!) shook me all night long!

You (You!) shook me all night long!

You (You!) shook me all night lo-o-o-ong!

It's always the quiet ones that surprise you, he mused, and divided his attention between his computer screen and the song. It was comfortingly raging, and only slightly sped up in Hank's thoughts, and he enjoyed it, until the endless looping and his co-worker's embarrassed desperation to be rid of the earworm began to get to him.

He tuned out and worked for a while in relative mental silence, the thoughts of others floating around and above him like conversation at a cocktail party.

He took a break close to eleven. Stretching hard in his chair, he took a deep breath, filling his lungs to capacity, feeling muscles and brain cramped from inactivity come to life again. He sighed, scrubbing at his sore eyelids.

"Hey, Luke." His friend Herb's voice from the entrance of his cubicle, and Herb's mental picture of him, leaning back in his chair with his fingers pressed into his eyes. "You look tired. Wanna go get a coffee?"

"Yeah," he replied. He swiveled around, catching himself on his desk, and snagged his mug on the way out.

Herb stood aside, and fell into step beside him as they walked to the coffee lounge, chatting. Herb had a lot to say, Luke was discovering, and even more to think, but Luke was getting better at tuning out most of the thoughts of those he conversed with. Answering a question one's conversation partner had never asked aloud was a recipe for suspicion and awkward excuses.

Coming back, warm mug still balanced carefully in his hand—remarkable, he took the time to think, the complexity of a hand motion or position that everyone took for granted—he passed Anita's cubicle. Just ahead was Hank's, and beyond that, his own.

Hank's thoughts, he heard now, were all on the spreadsheet before him. AC/DC was only a feeling now, determinedly suppressed. Harken Co.'s capital gains in the second quarter of 2112 were…

Luke hummed a bar, very quietly, and heard Hank's thoughts stutter as his subconscious caught upon something familiar.

The music took advantage of the moment of weakness, and burst through the levee Hank had built in his mind.

You (You!) shook me all night long!

No! Capital gains in the second quarter of 2112—of 2112—

Electric guitar, bobbing through the gaps Hank was leaving as he tried desperately to squash the music away. Then—

You (You!) shook me all night long!

Luke grinned a little as he slipped into his cubicle, and to the sweet strains of AC/DC and mischief, got back to work.