Peer Help!
“Hello Mona.”
I looked up from my note book and found a pulp face full of freckles smiling at me from behind a pair of big and thick lenses. I am always scared of that face.
“Hello Mona,” she said again.
“Hello, Lizzy,” I said and put the phone away. I was dialing for my laptop’s service center. It had been acting up lately. I needed to fix it before I went on my tour the next day and it was already near the closing time. They normally close at six.
“I need help,” she said. “You see, I was going to take back up of my work. I had typed ten pages today. That’s two pages more than yesterday. I am improving, don’t you think. And I can memorize the keys too. And…”
“What do you need help for?” I asked with a smile so as to get rid of any impoliteness caused by my interruption.
“What?”
“You said you need help,” I reminded her and glanced at my watch. Five fifteen.
“Yeah, you see, I need to print it and take a backup in an external drive. How do I do it?”
“To print; open your document, press the keys ‘ctrl’ and ‘P’ together and…”
“Wait…” she yelped and ran away. I thought I had scared her but when she came back she was carrying her laptop in one hand and dragging the chair by another. “Okay,” she said after settling beside me. “I opened my document, then?”
“Press ‘ctrl’ and ‘P’ together…”
“Ctrl... ctrl… where’s ctrl?”
“Lowest row, first key from the left.”
“Oh, yeah. Ctrl, then P. I know where ‘P’ is.”
After searching the whole keyboard she could locate ‘P’.
“Third row from the top, forth key from the right.”
“Okay. Got it.”
“See a dialog box?” I asked.
“A box? Yes. Why is it called a dialog box?”
“Because you and the system speak using it. Now select your printer.”
She looked up at me and then behind me. “That one behind you would do.”
For a moment I was stunt. Then I realized that she meant it physically.
“No. I mean yes, that printer would do, but you would need to tell your system that. There is a dropdown with all the available printers.”
“Dropdown?” she asked moving her head back a little and raising a brow. “There is nothing dropping down.”
I was about to growl but bit my lips in time.
“Let me do it for you,” I said and made to take the laptop from her.
“No, no, no, no, no,” she protested as if I was taking away her baby. She rounded her arms around the machine and guarded it like a mother. “If you do it every time I’ll never remember. And then you’ll be leaving tomorrow and I would need to go around the floor asking for it. You tell me and I’ll do it. Now, what did you say about something dropping down.”
I sighed and looked at my watch. Five twenty.
I pointed at the place and showed her. “There is the list of all the available printers. Select that one.”
“How do I know which…?”
“PRT-65A.”
She searched for a minute.
“Oh, found it. Now?”
“How many copies do you want?”
“How many? Well, let me see.” She raised her hand and touching the tips with the other hand forefinger started counting. “One for Mr. Simpsons, one for Mr. Kites, one for…”
I sighed silently and tapped my phone. The minute hand of the watch was slowing crawling towards six.
“I need seven copies.” Lizzy declared after counting and recounting.
“Okay. Then see…”
“Wait, Mrs. Miles might want two. Should I check?”
I swallowed my raising frustration and shook my head. “We’ll make ten copies,” I said. “Extras never hurt.”
“Cool. What to do?”
I pointed at the box where the number of copies can be entered. She typed ‘100’.
“That’s 100.” I pointed.
She bit her tongue and quickly erased one.
“I remember the backspace key.”
I nodded. She must be using it more number of times than all other keys taken together.
“Can I print on both sides?”
I nodded and then remembered that even I didn’t remember that settings.
“Do you really need that?” I asked.
“Not really.”
“Let’s go then. Hit OK.”
She clicked OK and started chatting.
“You need to go and take the prints.” I reminded.
She smiled broadly and was about to stand up when she shrieked and grabbed her laptop. I was going to dial for the service center but dropped the phone with a thud.
“What is it?”
She pointed at the monitor with a shaky finger.
“It says… it says…”
“Cut the drama and speak.” I didn’t smile this time, but she didn’t notice.
“It says the printer is offline. But I am online.”
I took me more than just a few seconds to get her point.
“You mean you are connected to the internet?”
“Yeah,” she nodded innocently.
“Are you connected to the network? I mean office network?”
She was staring at my face forgotten to shut her mouth.
“I mean the LAN. Are you…”
“What’s a LAN?”
I caught my escaping breath and exhaled slowly. The watch was ticking to five-forty-five. I looked at her laptop and found the LAN port empty. I took up the LAN cable and plugged it in.
“Try it again.”
She did and went to see. When she came back she was having all the papers in her hands and a big smile on her face. In the meantime I had dialed the service center twice. Both the times they were busy. The watch read five-fifty-eight.
“Well. All done I guess.” I smiled.
“Yeah thank you so much. Now, could please help me take the backup?”
P.S. I didn’t get the laptop fixed on time and had to cancel my trip all because one of my peers didn’t know how to print.
It’s Our Freedom to Choose
When he walked home that night he was worried about how he was going to break the news to his wife. For the past two months he hadn’t been paid and today they simply sacked him. No notice, no explanation. It was a simple statement: “We no longer need your service. Thank you.”
His wife would be angry, he knew. That’s why he had bought a silver bracelet for her with his little savings. It might cheer her up. It was, after all, their third marriage anniversary.
He combed his hair with his fingers and straightened his filthy old jacket before ringing the bell. Bad news can wait, but anniversaries can’t. No one answered the door. He rang again. Nothing. He tried peeping through the window by the door, but couldn’t see anything in the dark. He tried the door handle. Surprisingly, it yielded under the pressure. Worried and scared, he pushed open the door and stepped in. The little living cum dining was swathed in darkness. He called for his wife, but got no reply. Switching on the lights, he searched his little first floor apartment. It took him just three minutes to ascertain that he was alone in the house.
Then his eyes caught a bunch of papers on the dining table, weighed down by the salt-pot. The first one was the notice from the electricity company, demanding their three months due, which was double the actual amount owing to the accumulated late fees and an ultimatum that if the dues were not cleared in twenty four hours their connection would be disconnected. The next one was the water bill. The third one was the rent notice stating that he would need to pay rent inside eight hours or else evacuate.
He let them all fall as he took up the past piece of paper. It was written in his wife’s handwriting.
Dear Peter,
I know you have lost your job today and we are going to lose the house tomorrow. There is no money left with us. I can’t take it anymore. I am taking little Julia and leaving with Jim. I am sorry.
- Samantha
P.S. There is some freshly baked cake and some soup in the kitchen. Happy Anniversary.
He put the letter down and sighed heavily. He knew he would never see his daughter and his wife ever again. He didn’t blame them, it was for their good.
Sitting alone at the dining table, he took time in finishing the last meal that his wife had cooked for him. He had just cleaned when the doorbell rang. He had only to unlatch it when the door flew open and Mr. Hackle, his landlord, stormed into the room. He wanted his money, and he wanted it then.
Peter knew he couldn’t fight a man double his size and it would only lead to trouble. There was only one thing to do. Inviting Mr. Hackle to wait, he went into the bedroom and closed the door. When he didn’t return after a long time, Mr. Hackle went in to investigate and found the room empty. The only window was open and hanging out of it was a rope made of bed sheets.
Sitting at a corner table of an ill-lit pub, Peter finished his story and drove the can of beer towards the man opposite to him.
“Your turn,” he said. A stubbly looking man, calling himself Ben, picked it up and smiled.
Ben lived with his old mother and worked in a garage. One day he had a fight with his fellow mechanic, James, and the next day he was found with more than half of the garage cash in his possession. The garage safe was broken into and all the money was gone. When searched it was all stuffed in Ben’s gym bag which he carried to garage every day. He knew that he was being framed of stealing; he knew that the man behind it was James, but he couldn’t prove either of it and he was booted out of the garage. The news was everywhere and he became a known face in the town, especially among the garage business. They tagged him a thief and everywhere he looked for work, he was shooed away. Eventually he became penniless. Unable to find jobs in this town, he went away. After two weeks he came back unemployed and found his home in darkness. From his neighbour, he came to know that after he had left two men from his garage came looking for him. They threatened his mother. Failing to bear the strain, she suffered a heart attack and died in her sleep. Upset and enraged, Ben left his home, never to be seen again.
Two days later the garage where he worked mysteriously caught fire and was completely burned down. The police couldn’t identify the source of fire, but most of the garage was destroyed and the owner had to sell it off at a heavy loss.
“Well,” Ben said. “That’s my story.”
He put the can in front of Peter. Peter took a sip and nodded.
One night he was lying on a bench in the park, with an empty stomach and a broken heart, when he heard it: a woman screaming for help. Curious, he went to see and found the lady crying and a man emptying her bag on the sidewalk. Another man was holding her at bay at gunpoint.
Had it been some other time, Peter would have silently walked away. He didn’t want to get involved with men with guns. He feared for his wife and daughter. But that night he jumped right into it.
He woke up two days later in the hospital with a deep gash on his shoulder, a thank you note from a very grateful woman and a job offer from the local police.
Peter ended with a smile and pushed the beer can towards Ben. The latter picked it up without a word.
Months went by, but Ben didn’t find a job or a home. No one wanted to hire a thief. He wandered about the town, tired and hungry, alone and forgotten. One night he found a man walking down the road with a bag full of groceries. As he walked nearer to him, the face seemed known to him. When the man approached him, Ben found it to be James.
Ben couldn’t stop himself.
James was too shocked to find Ben in front of him and Ben didn’t give him time to react.
He didn’t wait to see if James was alive when he walked away with his groceries.
He never stopped to see if his victims lived or died. He didn’t care. With time he became a threat that the police couldn’t contain.
“Until today,” Ben said, thumping the can on the table. “You could have died in that encounter. Didn’t you feel afraid?”
Peter smiled softly. “Were you ever afraid when you attacked those innocent men, or looted the stores?”
Ben shook his head.
“Why?”
Ben thought over for a minute and then said, “I didn’t have anything to lose.”
Peter nodded in agreement. “Neither do I.”
He sighed, fingering the silver bracelet on his wrist. He missed his wife and his daughter, but knowing that they were happy with Jim, he chose to remain invisible to them.
“When we lose everything,” he said at length, “we lose the fear of losing as well. And at the same time we gain the freedom to do anything. It’s up to us to decide what to do with it.”
Peter emptied the beer can, giving Ben time enough to reflect.
When his senior officer walked in through the door, Peter tugged at Ben’s right hand that was cuffed with Peter’s left one.
“It’s time,” he said, rising. “Let’s go.”
Gone Fishing
I drove Fred down the Lonely Lane towards the Back Lake for some peaceful time together. It was also Fred’s favorite fishing spot. Fred was heartbroken and upset after loosing his future fiancée. I, being his best friend, was there to console him. At least that’s what I was telling him and everybody else. To me this was the perfect opportunity, if not the perfect time but still I could make a start and inch my way into Fred’s heart. That was one place I had craved for and had been denied.
Fred had been mourning for past week. I could understand that. Jenny was so perfect, he used to say. He can’t be luckier. He wanted to be with her till the end of time.
I had a little different opinion about Jenny. She was just a – you know what. Sometimes she could be so mean.
We reached the Blackberry Ferry and parked the car nearby. Reluctantly Fred unloaded the trunk, still speaking about Jenny.
Jenny was a giver, Fred said. She would give up anything for the needy. Her disappearance and the discovery of her bloodstained purse had rattled his nerves.
It was affecting his work at the police station. He was a senior detective after all.
Oh she could easily persuade people to give up for her, I thought, and if her battering false eyelashes didn’t do the job, she gave them the full benefit of her strapless dresses or the liberty of closely appreciating her swinging hips.
Fred’s little boat was moored nearby. We took it and rowed a little into the water. Fred kept gazing at the scenic beauty all around them. There was not a soul around. The lake surrounded by the hills on three sides and a green pasture on the fourth. The sun was slowly setting in the west. In the trees around the lake the birds were chirping merrily. But Fred was ignorant of all these. He just sighed and mumbled.
“I had made the ring for her too.”
I shook her head and turned to the man sitting by me in the boat.
“Come on Freddy,” I said. “You love fishing.”
“I can’t think of anything,” he said. He sounded as if he was going to breakdown any moment. “Jenny…”
I quickly squeezed his arm and thrust the rod in his hands.
“Here,” I said. “You put the bait. I hate worms.”
Unwillingly he took the hook and the can of worms.
“She didn’t like fishing,” he said.
“Let’s see how good you are,” I teased.
With a weak smile Fred tossed the line into the water.
How naive Fred is, I thought. She knew about my feelings about him and came to threaten me that night. She said she would not share Fred’s wealth with anyone. I was shocked when she pointed her gun at me. The gunfire still rang in my mind.
“There’s something,” he said excitedly. He reeled in the line and brought the object above the water. We faced each other and laughed out so loud that the boat rocked. From the end of the line hanging from the hook was a boot. It was holed and water poured out from several places. Fred dropped it and let me toss the line again. After a little while the sinker dropped below water.
“Reel it in, reel it in,” he cried. I was happy to see his cheerful face. As I reeled it in, the object turned out to be a teddy bear with one eye missing.
“Gee,” Fred exclaimed after freeing if from the hook and returning it back to the lake. “Don’t we have a garbage dump in town?”
Time and again we threw the line and pulled up things that once belonged to the landlubbers.
We were laughing and betting on our next catch. The mood had already lightened and I was glad that I brought him here. But I didn’t want to stay there for long. Anything could come up any moment and I didn’t want to bet on it.
“Let’s go home,” he said. “Draw in the line.”
“Okay,” I said and started to roll the line but it was stuck to something heavy. “It’s too heavy, Fred. Give me a hand.”
So together we hauled up our prized catch. As the hook broke through the water, Fred leaned forward to pull the thing towards the boat.
“It’s looking like a chain, Sara,” he said. He only saw the chain. I could see the slim bloodless neck around which it was looped.
“It’s a gold chain,” Fred was saying. I groped for my purse. “It has a locket. It’s… it’s…” he stammered as words failed him.
“It’s?” I asked.
“Jenny’s,” he said in the same way.
“Is it?”
I could fantasize the head with its budging out eyes hanging backwards while the rest of the body dangled from the thin chain. Oh, how it suited that money hungry woman.
“Someone… someone had killed her and drowned her in the lake.” I could see him visibly shake. “Who could do such a …” he paused and I was afraid he would derive the truth. “The last person she met before she disappeared was you.”
Fred turned and the fishing rod slipped from his hand disappearing underwater drawn by the weight of the dead body.
One bullet from Jenny’s licensed gun had found its place in Jenny’s heart. Another was aiming for Fred’s.
“Sara?” Fred’s voice trembled.
“Sorry.” My hands didn’t.
BANG!
SPLASH!