“Hi Mrs. Knight.” I stepped gingerly into the room, keeping watch for stay cords. They seemed to specifically target my feet.
“Hm? Oh, its you Miranda. I’m, ah, cleaning the computers for the summer, so you probably shouldn’t get on them.” There was a year of experience behind her words. Unspoken was the power that shut off as I entered the room; the computers that froze or did unheard things when I got behind the mouse. Sometimes I’d wander to two or three computers before I found one that was responding. I knew clearly what she meant; if I got on the computers now, It could mean overtime for her. That was alright, actually.
“I’m just here to talk.” I said, waving my hand. I looked over to her desk, hidden in its own little alcove. Her computer was, of course, the best in the lab. Next to it, the second best, and my own favorite, was a pc… stuck with an Out of Order label to try to prevent students from using it. That ruse had never worked for me.
“Really? Alright, then.” She seemed surprise, a little reluctant. Maybe she was just busy, maybe her own connection with computers had led her to dislike me as well.
“My printer bit me today.” I said it nonchalantly, as if such things happened all the time. “D’you think I’ll get a scar?” Yeah right, go to the nurse, not the technician. But I knew the nurse – she was a crabby, large old lady whose cancer alone kept me from downright hating her – and she wouldn’t put up with such things.
“How’d your printer bite you?” She asked, a little interested, but mostly just relieved that her computers were safe. That was permission enough to start my story. It hung in my head, half formed, but I trusted it to grow in the telling. They always did.
“So it said the print cartridge was stuck. I opened up the case, and sure enough, it didn’t spring to the middle like its supposed to. So I reach in there… like this… and suddenly it shoots across and pins my hand against the other side.”
“Miranda, you’re amazing.” She didn’t need to tell me that.
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