My whole weekend was consumed with Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S. I had planned to spend my weekend doing what I usually do-eating, sleeping, and going to the store to buy more food for eating. Instead I found myself sitting at my desk, typing away on my computer, with papers and files and desks spread around me.

I picked up one of the letters enclosed in the packet. 'Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S' was emblazoned in black font on the top of the page.

"We've investigated some crazy things, but this is unbelievable," I murmured quietly, opening up a file enclosed on a small disk. It was labelled 'Tesseract.' When I clicked it, an image appeared on my screen of a glowing blue cube.

So, the Tesseract is a tiny cube, I thought to myself, looking at the touchscreen computer next to my treasure chest. And it's that important. Clicking on another file called 'History', three documents scattered across the screen. I clicked the nearest open document, and it zoomed in further on the text. I adjusted my reading glasses.

"Originally guarded by Asgardians," I read aloud. Aliens. More alien technology. The Tesseract was lost during the last age of worship by men on Earth, according to the file, and was recovered during the 1940's by Johann Schmidt. After reading more information on him, I knew why his name sounded familiar.

Years ago, S.H.I.E.L.D. recovered the body of Steve Rogers, better known as "Captain America." After stealing the Tesseract from Schmidt, he crashed the plane containing the object into the ice. Somehow, he survived, and only woke up a few weeks ago, after 70 years.

So the aliens lost it, we found it. I opened another file called 'Objectives.'

Experiments will be conducted on the Tesseract in order to solve the alternative energy crisis.

The rest of the objectives weren't important to me. I pursed my lips. "An alien cube emits energy. They want to use it for energy purposes." I sighed tiredly and glanced at the clock. It was now 10 p.m., and tomorrow I have to be at headquarters early to prepare for my reassignment. And I still had to go over Selvig's notes on extraction theories.

I turned off the touchscreen and leaned back in my chair, removing my glasses. "What are they calling me in for?" I muttered. "I type on computers."

During my college years, the big thing was "computer science." All of my advisors recommended computer science, that it was the "way to go" and it will bring me thousands upon thousands of dollars, and I would be able to retire by age 40. I'm 23. Seventeen years to go.

I'm not saying that my degree isn't useful. I graduated from MIT, took an exam, and the next thing I knew, I had two S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents knocking at my door to recruit me to join. Did I have a choice? Well, not really. My scores were high, and they wanted talented people. I had no idea that I was joining an organization decided to defending the Earth against extra-terrestrials.

My rank at S.H.I.E.L.D. was simply 'technician.' Truthfully, my time is spent at a computer station, monitoring the online systems, reporting new information, managing communications, etc. I was only deemed a technician because the next highest level is "administrator." I'm considered a computer technician, whereas those who manage the engines are engineering technicians. It has many sub-divisions.

I surmised that at Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S., I was going to monitor the Cube's activity, report new information on it, and research any information on the Tesseract that I could find. Perhaps provide reports proving that the Tesseract would solve the energy crisis.

I blew air from my lips and shut down my computer. As I walked upstairs to my room, I grabbed my freshly laundered suit out of a laundry basket.

S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters was a mess when I arrived the next morning.

The control room was a teeming mass of loud voices, bodies rushing in every direction. Technicians, engineers, field agents, and officers rushed around me, carrying tablets, folders, and papers with a purposeful air. After a long security process, a walk through the dark tunnel, and this is what I get? A mess?

Two engineers rushed past me and ran down the set of stairs that lead to the basement, and also contained other computer business that I don't know too well. Next to me was a large desk, stationed with a computer, and other computer screens connected to the cameras installed in the building. Behind the desk was an older man, who was typing hastily on a keyboard.

I stifled a yawn and stepped forward as the automatic doors slid closed behind me. I took one last sip of lukewarm coffee and adjusted my earpiece, walking forward. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s control room was mammoth sized, built with the strong steel money could buy, and embellished on the ceiling was the logo, which was a circle containing a black eagle with red eyes, as the spelling of the anagram around it.

In front of me were 20 or so rows of computer stations, with a computer technician typing at each one, either talking into their earpiece, or remaining silent. I don't know any of my fellow technicians. I'm not much of a talker, for one, and we're all so engrossed in our work we don't have time to talk. Typically, I would walk towards the computers and type my day away. Instead I walked over to the reception desk, something I'm not used to.

"I've been reassigned," I explained, standing up straight in front of the older man, who glanced at me unwillingly while still typing. "I was told to come here to be transported."

He raised his eyes after I said that, and then he pressed his hands to the earpiece in his ear. "Coulson. We have another one for you. Wait here," he said, resuming his typing. "Agent Coulson will escort you to the vehicle."

I shifted away from the desk awkwardly, and looked at the large monitor ahead of me that had video footage coming from areas all over the world. Paris. New Delhi. Moscow.

I adjusted my uniform with a sigh. The standard here was a blue jacket with a half-zip, the S.H.I.E.L.D logo on the upper right arm, dark blue pants with black patches, and a belt to holster our standard sidearm. The material never really agrees with my skin-it's made of some sort of spandex. I looked down at my black boots and decided I needed a new pair soon.

"Pedagia?" a cool voice asked behind me. I stood upright to turn and eye my escort-he was relatively short for a man, with brown hair, parted on the side, hazel eyes, a dark blue suit, an air of confidence and a low tolerance for bullshit. However, a knowing smile touched his rather stoic face. "I'm here to escort you to vehicle."

I wanted to raise my hand to shake his, but he had already begun walking, and I had no choice but to follow him. I glanced over my shoulder to look at the control room again and decided that I wasn't going to miss it much.