Page 36 - Unlikely Stories 5
P. 36

The Robert N. Hood Foundation

                     From Fantastic Transactions, volume 3 (2006)


          The  telephone  repairman  rapped  on  the  door  identified  by  a
        polished brass plate as the portal to ‘Executive Director.’
          In  reply  through  an  intercom  on  the  untenanted  executive
        assistant’s workstation a firm masculine voice uttered, “Come in!”
          Opening the heavy hardwood door the Klaxon  Communications
        Technical  Services  Representative  made  a  vestigial  version  of
        touching his forelock with one hand while pointing to his photo ID
        badge with the other. Its yellowed laminated surface tied the face to
        Norman Lord, a loyal employee since 1992.
          “Sorry to bother you, sir. I have a work order for this office. The
        secretary, Miss Ward, wasn’t out there. I guess it’s her lunch break.”
          “Right you  are, ah—Norman. I’m just leaving, too,  so this is an
        excellent opportunity to fix whatever is wrong with this line.” The
        sandy-haired  man  behind  the  desk,  attired  in  dark  brown  business
        suit, beige shirt and green striped tie, stood up, pointing to one of the
        phones. It was evidently a personal line, unconnected to the multi-
        button instrument beside it. A chrome intaglio prism in front of his
        computer read ‘Robert N. Hood.’
          “I  see,”  said  the  repairman,  reaching  for  the  tester’s  handset
        hanging on his tool belt. “What seems to be the problem, sir?”
          “How would I know? That’s your job. I can tell you the symptoms:
        a  strange  hissing  sound,  occasional  echoes  and  crackling.  Maybe
        there’s  water  in  the  basement  rotting  the  wires.  Now  I  have  an
        important donor to meet at my club. I trust this will be fixed when I
        return. Klaxon has given us good service in the past.”
          “Oh, certainly, sir. It doesn’t sound like I’ll have to trace it too far.
        The problem is probably right in this room.”
          “Whatever  you  say.”  The  door  closed  behind  the  departing
        executive.
          The telephone man stood motionless for half a minute, listening to
        the  muffled  sounds  of  a  voice  issuing  farewells  and  an  outer  door
        closing.  Then  he  checked  his  watch  and  stood  straighter,  all


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