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By: Ralf
Date: 8/16/98 10:20:54 AM
# Replies: 1
The story board looked lonely, so I dusted off one of my quickies from 1997.
Response #1
By: Ralf
Date: 8/16/98 10:21:48 AM
Postage Due
"Delivery!" shouted the loading dock foreman, as he brought his fist down on the padded MAX EMERG button. Alarms honked and lights spun as the dock readied itself for the delivery. The armor plated doors swung ponderously closed, while "severe tire damage will result" grating swung up from the floor, wicked 17-inch chrome spikes held at a 40-degree angle. The air was filled with clouds of nano-molecular soldier-mites, ready to invade and destroy any humans foolish enough not to wear the Company badge. Dock workers manned the automated gun emplacements by standing around and smoking.
Soon the READY light blinked up at the foreman, who nodded in satisfaction before speaking into the hissing mask at his throat. "Clear. Proceed with delivery." Within his immersive goggles, the world was displayed as it appeared through the binocular eyes of an outside secure-cam. Below his vulture-like position, he could see a non-Company truck backing up to the armored doors that had just eased shut, rotating beacons flashing from the rear bumper. With a lurch, it stopped movement, engines revving. Along the bottom of the foreman's display scrolled letters identifying the vehicle, its service history, the driver's name and identification numbers. Based on the truck's specifications and the certification carried by the driver, this was an unmarked rapid service vehicle, intended to get in and out with a minimum of interface. The foreman approved. Whomever had hired this truck respected the busy dock-worker.
The vehicle's door eased open, slow enough not to alarm any trigger-happy automatics. The driver himself stood there in his gray uniform, immersive goggles & mask covering his face. Held at his side was a thick padded package, which was rotated up smoothly in the customary fashion so the barcodes could be easily scanned.
As the lasers eagerly licked the barcodes, emergency logos flashed in the foreman's display. Priority! This one was hot. He thumbed the release mechanism for the dock, causing the outer doors to re-open. The foreman jumped down and forced his way through the gale-force winds whipped up by the nano-warrior recovery turbo-fans shrieking above his head. The package was in his hands within four seconds, the driver back in his articulated seat in six, the delivery van back on the road in eight.
The foreman looked down at the package in his gloved hands with a mixture of fear and excitement. Unlike the thousands of other deliveries he handled each year, this one had a unique barcode: DOCUMENTS ENCLOSED. Who had ever heard of such a thing? Sending documents in a package!
--
The package was quickly routed upstairs, to the 800th floor. Nobody knew what to make of it there.
"Do we open it?"
"How?"
"Lasers?"
"My great-grandmother used to do this. I think she used a chainsaw."
"Davidson! Call Maintenance and get a chainsaw!"
--
Once the padded envelope was open, another mystery presented itself: the document.
"It appears to be enclosed in yet another casing. Chainsaw?"
"Mmmmm… no. Too risky. Ideas?"
"Lasers?"
"You could tear it open. With your hands."
"You're kidding! What about countermeasures?"
"You should've thought of that before. Besides, Security said it was clean."
"Sure! Let THEM open it. Say… that gives me an idea."
--
The Polarized Deep-Scanning Radar lab on the 615th floor had never handled such an enigma. The object it was presented with was a flat container with another flat object inside. Laser spectral analysis (yes, they finally used lasers) indicated a polymer construct, with cellulose properties. The expert systems agreed that this internally concealed object was in fact, a sheet of what had passed for paper in the previous century. Presumably it contained a message. Somebody had expended a great deal of resources to get it to the Company. Therefore, the message must be read.
Nobody wanted the responsibility of opening the outer container and exposing themselves to whatever hideous countermeasures lay within.
Therefore, the message must be read without disturbing the container.
--
"Sir, the Lab results are back!"
"And?"
"They vaporized it!"
"What?!"
"But they successfully recorded the message before it went. It's a personal letter of thanks from the president of Yokohomonomogo Metals for our recent takeover of their failing orbital foundry. He says we saved 16,000 jobs. He wishes to thank us for sparing him the dishonor of reporting another annual loss to his shareholders. He is, in effect, thanking us for his life."
"This disturbs me."
"How is that, sir?"
"If it was a simple letter of thanks, why not teleconference, or just send it via email?"
"Would that carry as much personal honor?"
"Come again?"
"The Japanese believe in such simple gestures. They eschew electronic communications for their most personal messages. At least, that's what I've heard."
"Or… this could be a clever plot to unbalance us. Or perhaps there really were virulent nano-phages in that note, and we were saved by the quick thinking of our PDSR Lab. Personal thanks! What could it mean?"
"Oh well, at least it's over now."
"Over? I'll call you when it's over. Davidson!"
"Sir?"
"Shut down the Yokohomonomogo orbital foundry. Stop shipments of food & oxygen to the employees there. Commence interrogation of said employees in 12 days."
"Which foundry, sir? There are four."
"Interesting. Shut them all down. We'll get to the bottom of this yet."