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I've been thinking about trying to write a book for a while, so here's part of it.

He looked up from the pages and pages of numbers, his dishevled hair falling almost instantly infront of his eyes. He tried blowing it away without success, eventually reaching up to push the lock back. He looked between his papers and the device a few feet infront of him on it's on table, nodding to himself. This was the tenth time he had done so since that morning, and it had now become repeditive to him. The numbers are all there, he thought to himself. It has to work. He got up out of his chair, picking up a few of is papers and crossing the room to the other table. He looked the device over once more, nodding a final time. The device wasn't to big at all, about the size of his book bag in the corner and the general shape of a cone with a few odd bits here and there. It's original designer was unknown, but he was the one who had found the plans and finished it, right there in his office. He let the papers drop, placing both hands on the device. The top recracted, revealing a small blue button in it's place. He pressed it once, counted to three, and then pressed it again. He smiled a bit, crossing the room again to sit in his chair, to silently wait for the end of the world.