(no subject)
Some more edits today and Hiro vanquishes his first foe.
Total word count:8821
Today's word count: 1938
Chapter 4: The Mouth of the Beast
Desmond Shillings was in a sickeningly good mood the rest of the week. Apparently his presentation and post-presentation schmoozing with Bill Cole paid off somehow. There was no proof, but Hiro was fairly certain that it was a pay raise. Mr. Shillings was everyone’s buddy the rest of that week. He jovially would chuck Hiro’s shoulder, “How’s my best guy doing today? You have absolutely everything you need? Great! Keep up the good work!”
With Mr. Shillings in such a good mood, it of course put all his cronies into a good mood as well. Late Wednesday afternoon, Mr. Shillings had swung by Candice Finch’s desk and commented about how lovely her haircut was. The rest of that afternoon, Ms. Finch walked around with a little prim smile and almost a blush to her cheeks. Hiro had no words to describe the shock he felt when, Friday morning, one of the glass coffee pots broke in his hands and Ms. Finch hardly batted an eye. As a matter of fact, she came over and first checked to make sure he hadn’t cut himself on the broken glass before grabbing a broom and helping him clean up. With a matronly pat on the cheek she giggled and floated (which is quite a feat for a woman her size) off to who knows what other madness.
It would have been a perfect last day of the week if it hadn’t been for the copier though.
The copy machine on the sixth floor was a dinosaur. Numerous requests for replacement had been made by just about everyone that was forced to use it. Each time, the request was denied by Candice Finch, pointing out that the copy machine was still operable and a new piece of hardware would have to come out of next years’ budget. For the three years Hiro had worked there, it was always “maybe next year.”
Today, Hiro was having to make copies of a 63 page report he had spent most of the morning putting together. It was to page 12 when a terrible grinding noise rumbled from deep within the yellowed plastic exterior. An evil growling noise, warning that the denizens of the nether were coming to steal your soul. Hiro backed slowly away from the infernal machine, starting to notice a small tendril of black smoke coming from the back of the copy machine. Suddenly, with a roar, the copier attacked! The fifty one pages that had not already been printed were suddenly sucked into the machine one after another and Hiro could hear the sound of chewing and shredding. The massacre done, the rumble died down and the smoke dissipated. An almost sated burb sound bubbled up before the machine went completely still and quiet. Unsure if it was safe, Hiro reluctantly approached the beast machine. No further noise came. No smoke. No warnings that doom was imminent.
Slowly reaching out, Hiro raised the top lid and confirmed that his entire document had been eaten. It took ten minutes just to open enough doors, access panels, and lids to be able to reach all the shredded wads of paper that were strewn throughout the guts of the beast. Once it was cleaned out, Hiro mourned over the pile of blackened confetti that once was his report. As he stared forlornly at the remains, Candice Finch bubbled up behind him, “Having trouble with the copier?” Not even looking up, Hiro said nothing for fear of breaking down in frustrated sobs.
Ms. Finch had a stack of papers and was laying them in the hopper when Hiro noticed what she was doing. “No! You don’t want to do that!” he cried, but it was too late. She had already hit the large green button that would certainly spell doom for her paperwork. One by one, the hopper bin was drawn into the gaping maw. Ominous waves of green-blue light swept back and forth and perfect copies spewed forth. Hiro was about to change his mind that everything was going to be fine when the low growl began rumbling up. Without missing a beat, Ms. Finch popped open one of the side panels, reached in and jiggled something and the growl quieted down. Peacefully, the rest of Ms. Finch’s document fell into the tray, perfectly collated.
“But… how?” was all Hiro could manage.
Ms. Finch looked up. “Oh, you mean this temperamental thing? You just have to know how to talk to it and it’ll purr like a kitten.”
He just dumbly repeated, “but… how?”
“When we first got it, I got the repair manual that came with it. It has a bunch of basic tricks to fix it, but I’ve penciled in more as I’ve figured them out over the years. If you’d like, I can let you borrow it.”
His jaw hit the floor and Hiro was gobsmacked that Finch the Pinch’s good mood was extending this far. Quickly seeing this as a once in a lifetime offer, he quickly nodded. Following mutely behind, they went back to Ms. Finch’s desk and she handed him a small book, probably only about thirty pages long. In the back of it was stuffed a number of small slips of paper and post-it notes. “Just be sure to bring it back in one piece. I don’t know that I could keep the copier running if I lost that.”
Impossibly, a soft breeze ruffled Hiro’s collar. The scent of jasmine and cherry blossoms were carried along with it. The scent was quickly gone though and in its wake was left the certainty of the end of the demon machine’s reign of terror. As sharp as a blade’s edge, Hiro could see what he had to do. But, first, he must learn his enemy.
________________________________________
Normally, Hiro’s job didn’t require him to take much work home. This weekend was a different story though. He dove into the repair manual, memorizing the anatomy of his hated enemy; learning about the drums and cables and belts and wires that made up the artificial shell that hosted the demon. He particularly paid attention to the copious quantity of notes that Ms. Finch had made. And it paid off. There, scribbled onto a hot pink post-it note, was the chink in the armor. “Make sure not to load heavy weight paper into the paper tray. It can get stuck in the pickup and burn the motors out.”
Armored by the knowledge of his ancient foe’s weakness, Hiro quickly set about securing his weapon. He hopped into the car and headed for Office Supply Warehouse. “Home of the best deals in office supplies and furniture” was their motto, but perhaps they weren’t aware that they were also underground arms smugglers.
Arriving early in the afternoon, he parked far out into the parking lot, where there wouldn’t be many pedestrians that would be able to make out anything. Making his way into the store, he detoured through the calculator isle to throw off any pursuers before heading into the paper section. Nonchalantly strolling past the standard copy paper, he checked the packaging and found that normal paper was “80#” weight. Nodding to himself, he continued to look around. Finally, he came across a young, pimple faced high-schooler in the green vest that marked him as an employee of Office Supply Warehouse.
“Excuse me, I need some help,” Hiro said as he walked up to the young man.
“Yeah? What’s up?”
“Well, I need to find some paper that’s thicker than normal. I saw that standard copy paper was eighty pound weight, but I didn’t know what that meant.”
“Huh” the teen grunted and slowly got up and walked over to the reams of paper.
After looking at a package of standard copy paper, he went over and looked at three or four other packages. Then he went back and looked at the first package again. Two more new packages followed, then back to the first one. This round trip exploration continued for another three cycles before a package was pulled down and unceremoniously dropped into Hiro’s arms. Without saying another word, the teen went back to his very important job of stacking spindles of blank cds. The terrible customer service aside, Hiro could immediately feel that this paper was thicker, less flexible.
Standing in line at the checkout aisle, Hiro found that for once he couldn’t wait for Monday to roll around. He gave a feral smile of anticipation at the coming battle. And he knew who would be the victor.
________________________________________
Waiting, and biding his time, Hiro didn’t make his move as soon as he got to the office. As the morning stretched on, he continued to wait. Vengeance was a dish best served cold. Lunch rolled around and was gone again before Hiro laid his hand affectionately upon his instrument of copier of doom.
He slipped his finger under one edge of the packaging and carefully opened it like unwrapping a present. He ran his thumb over the paper edges, flipping them like shuffling a deck of cards. They were definitely more sturdy than the normal, weak paper that the demon normally consumed. And Hiro was ready to feed it its last meal. One that he hoped it would choke on.
Taking a small amount of the paper, probably about twenty sheets or so, he slipped them under his arm and started to slowly meander down the walkway. He circled by the men’s room door and then the breakroom. Stopping for a sip of water that he wasn’t thirsty for, Hiro peered from the corner of his eyes, scanning for anyone following him. Wiping his lip with the tip of one finger, he smiled and headed over to confront his prey.
Quietly, he announced his presence to his opponent, “I’ve come for you. Oh yes, you have long reigned here. Grown fat and cruel upon the offerings we’ve been forced to give you. But it ends, demon. Never again will you crush the hopes and dreams of us. Never again will meticulous graphs and charts be separated from their accompanying data, wondering when Daddy will come home.”
Stroking his fingers over the lid, Hiro trailed down and slowly slid open the paper tray. Pristine sheets of egg shell lay within. Taking a small amount out, Hiro slowly slid his blade into the innards of the beast. Its doom now at hand, the normal paper was replaced atop the slate-grey sheets and Hiro quickly pushed the tray back. Now… it was just a matter of time. It was perhaps an hour later that the floor heard the despairing cry of Candice Finch.
A number of people just peeked over the tops of their cubicle walls, but many also walked over to see what the fuss was about. And they were greeted with the sight of Finch the Pinch, kneeling upon the ground, tear streaked cheeks, clutching the smoking remnants of the beast. “Gone! All gone! Someone killed my baby!” she wailed.
The whole floor was quiet the rest of that afternoon. Everyone stepped softly in the presence of Ms. Finch’s grief. But, throughout the floor, Hiro could imagine the silent corks being popped and the champagne being toasted to the death of the ancient copy machine. It was the end of an era. Soon, the hulking mass would be carted away to be interred deep in the catacombs beneath a church. Laid to rest in the holiest of grounds and surrounded by wards against evil, Hiro could only hope that none like it would come again in his lifetime.
Total word count:8821
Today's word count: 1938
Chapter 4: The Mouth of the Beast
Desmond Shillings was in a sickeningly good mood the rest of the week. Apparently his presentation and post-presentation schmoozing with Bill Cole paid off somehow. There was no proof, but Hiro was fairly certain that it was a pay raise. Mr. Shillings was everyone’s buddy the rest of that week. He jovially would chuck Hiro’s shoulder, “How’s my best guy doing today? You have absolutely everything you need? Great! Keep up the good work!”
With Mr. Shillings in such a good mood, it of course put all his cronies into a good mood as well. Late Wednesday afternoon, Mr. Shillings had swung by Candice Finch’s desk and commented about how lovely her haircut was. The rest of that afternoon, Ms. Finch walked around with a little prim smile and almost a blush to her cheeks. Hiro had no words to describe the shock he felt when, Friday morning, one of the glass coffee pots broke in his hands and Ms. Finch hardly batted an eye. As a matter of fact, she came over and first checked to make sure he hadn’t cut himself on the broken glass before grabbing a broom and helping him clean up. With a matronly pat on the cheek she giggled and floated (which is quite a feat for a woman her size) off to who knows what other madness.
It would have been a perfect last day of the week if it hadn’t been for the copier though.
The copy machine on the sixth floor was a dinosaur. Numerous requests for replacement had been made by just about everyone that was forced to use it. Each time, the request was denied by Candice Finch, pointing out that the copy machine was still operable and a new piece of hardware would have to come out of next years’ budget. For the three years Hiro had worked there, it was always “maybe next year.”
Today, Hiro was having to make copies of a 63 page report he had spent most of the morning putting together. It was to page 12 when a terrible grinding noise rumbled from deep within the yellowed plastic exterior. An evil growling noise, warning that the denizens of the nether were coming to steal your soul. Hiro backed slowly away from the infernal machine, starting to notice a small tendril of black smoke coming from the back of the copy machine. Suddenly, with a roar, the copier attacked! The fifty one pages that had not already been printed were suddenly sucked into the machine one after another and Hiro could hear the sound of chewing and shredding. The massacre done, the rumble died down and the smoke dissipated. An almost sated burb sound bubbled up before the machine went completely still and quiet. Unsure if it was safe, Hiro reluctantly approached the beast machine. No further noise came. No smoke. No warnings that doom was imminent.
Slowly reaching out, Hiro raised the top lid and confirmed that his entire document had been eaten. It took ten minutes just to open enough doors, access panels, and lids to be able to reach all the shredded wads of paper that were strewn throughout the guts of the beast. Once it was cleaned out, Hiro mourned over the pile of blackened confetti that once was his report. As he stared forlornly at the remains, Candice Finch bubbled up behind him, “Having trouble with the copier?” Not even looking up, Hiro said nothing for fear of breaking down in frustrated sobs.
Ms. Finch had a stack of papers and was laying them in the hopper when Hiro noticed what she was doing. “No! You don’t want to do that!” he cried, but it was too late. She had already hit the large green button that would certainly spell doom for her paperwork. One by one, the hopper bin was drawn into the gaping maw. Ominous waves of green-blue light swept back and forth and perfect copies spewed forth. Hiro was about to change his mind that everything was going to be fine when the low growl began rumbling up. Without missing a beat, Ms. Finch popped open one of the side panels, reached in and jiggled something and the growl quieted down. Peacefully, the rest of Ms. Finch’s document fell into the tray, perfectly collated.
“But… how?” was all Hiro could manage.
Ms. Finch looked up. “Oh, you mean this temperamental thing? You just have to know how to talk to it and it’ll purr like a kitten.”
He just dumbly repeated, “but… how?”
“When we first got it, I got the repair manual that came with it. It has a bunch of basic tricks to fix it, but I’ve penciled in more as I’ve figured them out over the years. If you’d like, I can let you borrow it.”
His jaw hit the floor and Hiro was gobsmacked that Finch the Pinch’s good mood was extending this far. Quickly seeing this as a once in a lifetime offer, he quickly nodded. Following mutely behind, they went back to Ms. Finch’s desk and she handed him a small book, probably only about thirty pages long. In the back of it was stuffed a number of small slips of paper and post-it notes. “Just be sure to bring it back in one piece. I don’t know that I could keep the copier running if I lost that.”
Impossibly, a soft breeze ruffled Hiro’s collar. The scent of jasmine and cherry blossoms were carried along with it. The scent was quickly gone though and in its wake was left the certainty of the end of the demon machine’s reign of terror. As sharp as a blade’s edge, Hiro could see what he had to do. But, first, he must learn his enemy.
________________________________________
Normally, Hiro’s job didn’t require him to take much work home. This weekend was a different story though. He dove into the repair manual, memorizing the anatomy of his hated enemy; learning about the drums and cables and belts and wires that made up the artificial shell that hosted the demon. He particularly paid attention to the copious quantity of notes that Ms. Finch had made. And it paid off. There, scribbled onto a hot pink post-it note, was the chink in the armor. “Make sure not to load heavy weight paper into the paper tray. It can get stuck in the pickup and burn the motors out.”
Armored by the knowledge of his ancient foe’s weakness, Hiro quickly set about securing his weapon. He hopped into the car and headed for Office Supply Warehouse. “Home of the best deals in office supplies and furniture” was their motto, but perhaps they weren’t aware that they were also underground arms smugglers.
Arriving early in the afternoon, he parked far out into the parking lot, where there wouldn’t be many pedestrians that would be able to make out anything. Making his way into the store, he detoured through the calculator isle to throw off any pursuers before heading into the paper section. Nonchalantly strolling past the standard copy paper, he checked the packaging and found that normal paper was “80#” weight. Nodding to himself, he continued to look around. Finally, he came across a young, pimple faced high-schooler in the green vest that marked him as an employee of Office Supply Warehouse.
“Excuse me, I need some help,” Hiro said as he walked up to the young man.
“Yeah? What’s up?”
“Well, I need to find some paper that’s thicker than normal. I saw that standard copy paper was eighty pound weight, but I didn’t know what that meant.”
“Huh” the teen grunted and slowly got up and walked over to the reams of paper.
After looking at a package of standard copy paper, he went over and looked at three or four other packages. Then he went back and looked at the first package again. Two more new packages followed, then back to the first one. This round trip exploration continued for another three cycles before a package was pulled down and unceremoniously dropped into Hiro’s arms. Without saying another word, the teen went back to his very important job of stacking spindles of blank cds. The terrible customer service aside, Hiro could immediately feel that this paper was thicker, less flexible.
Standing in line at the checkout aisle, Hiro found that for once he couldn’t wait for Monday to roll around. He gave a feral smile of anticipation at the coming battle. And he knew who would be the victor.
________________________________________
Waiting, and biding his time, Hiro didn’t make his move as soon as he got to the office. As the morning stretched on, he continued to wait. Vengeance was a dish best served cold. Lunch rolled around and was gone again before Hiro laid his hand affectionately upon his instrument of copier of doom.
He slipped his finger under one edge of the packaging and carefully opened it like unwrapping a present. He ran his thumb over the paper edges, flipping them like shuffling a deck of cards. They were definitely more sturdy than the normal, weak paper that the demon normally consumed. And Hiro was ready to feed it its last meal. One that he hoped it would choke on.
Taking a small amount of the paper, probably about twenty sheets or so, he slipped them under his arm and started to slowly meander down the walkway. He circled by the men’s room door and then the breakroom. Stopping for a sip of water that he wasn’t thirsty for, Hiro peered from the corner of his eyes, scanning for anyone following him. Wiping his lip with the tip of one finger, he smiled and headed over to confront his prey.
Quietly, he announced his presence to his opponent, “I’ve come for you. Oh yes, you have long reigned here. Grown fat and cruel upon the offerings we’ve been forced to give you. But it ends, demon. Never again will you crush the hopes and dreams of us. Never again will meticulous graphs and charts be separated from their accompanying data, wondering when Daddy will come home.”
Stroking his fingers over the lid, Hiro trailed down and slowly slid open the paper tray. Pristine sheets of egg shell lay within. Taking a small amount out, Hiro slowly slid his blade into the innards of the beast. Its doom now at hand, the normal paper was replaced atop the slate-grey sheets and Hiro quickly pushed the tray back. Now… it was just a matter of time. It was perhaps an hour later that the floor heard the despairing cry of Candice Finch.
A number of people just peeked over the tops of their cubicle walls, but many also walked over to see what the fuss was about. And they were greeted with the sight of Finch the Pinch, kneeling upon the ground, tear streaked cheeks, clutching the smoking remnants of the beast. “Gone! All gone! Someone killed my baby!” she wailed.
The whole floor was quiet the rest of that afternoon. Everyone stepped softly in the presence of Ms. Finch’s grief. But, throughout the floor, Hiro could imagine the silent corks being popped and the champagne being toasted to the death of the ancient copy machine. It was the end of an era. Soon, the hulking mass would be carted away to be interred deep in the catacombs beneath a church. Laid to rest in the holiest of grounds and surrounded by wards against evil, Hiro could only hope that none like it would come again in his lifetime.