Dreams of the Quill

Before quitting the office, Joe flipped a switch and the massive CRT display on his desk buzzed to life, bathing the office in a soft blue light. One thing he did every morning before returning to his apartment was turn off the ancient Dell tower. He’d been told off one too many times for leaving his office a mess. As, broken clock aside, the only apparatus in his cubicle was this one computer (the wastebasket existed for gum wrappers), that meant leaving it running. So this morning, much like most others, Joe flipped the monitor on in order to shut the computer down.

In order to shut down the computer, Joe had to close all the open programs—a word processor, a web browser with spreadsheets and forums loaded in various windows, a Tetris clone, his e-mail client. As he dispatched that last application, he noticed that his inbox lacked any unread messages. This was odd, he noted, as he aimed for the Shut Down button. Usually he had a bit of mail to look over before leaving work.

This usually daily bit of mail was sent by Joe’s girlfriend, a college student on the west coast. This morning, there wasn’t any—Joe figured that was just fine, she was probably tired from writing papers, or something. And besides, he counted himself lucky to have met such a wonderful girl. Who was he to expect anything of her?

Joe smiled to himself as he pressed firmly down on the mouse he’d just knocked into and pulled out of the wastebasket. The border of the Shut Down button flashed and then the monitor’s blue glow faded, replaced with the emptiness of a black screen. He reached forward and flipped the switch one more time, cutting the power to the monitor.

Having sufficiently tidied his cubicle, Joe strode out into the dark hallway, checking his watch. Five twenty-eight. It would take more than two minutes to get to the first floor and exit the building, so technically he would be on-site through the end of his shift. Timing his departures was something Joe had perfected over the months he’d worked this job. He knew when and how to leave to minimize the time he was in the office while also minimizing his chance of being fired.

At five thirty-one, Joe stepped out of the building and into the dark streets of a city longing for the sun.