Excerpt: Copy Central

Meanwhile, at Oklund Print and Copy, Peter, the senior employee was showing yet another new hire around the store.

“So, we’re pretty busy here most days. Lots of stuff to do. A lot of it the same, but there’s usually some kind of twist, so it keeps us pretty busy.”

The trainee nodded her head. She was cute, thought Peter. Sort of ginger-haired and freckled. A little too pale, a little too thin—he liked curvier women—but she was cute in a little girl sort of way. Which she practically was. She was only a freshman in college. Why Cillia had started hiring them so young was beyond him. But that wasn’t his job. His job was to train them and to make sure everything got done.

It seemed like nothing ever got done, some days. They were getting so much new business. There was always so much work to do, so many copies to make and booklets to bind. Sometimes, when he was working late on a big job, he would almost imagine that the machines were hungry for more, that he was there only to serve and feed them, to give them more paper, more toner, more images, more documents. And then he’d shake his head and scratch his butt and have a drink of his coffee or a bite of his sandwich and that thought would pass. But he always hated working alone at night in the shop for that reason. The idea of the machines as hungry living things would never quite leave him.

For instance, he could almost imagine that the newest big job copier/binder, the Xerox 2735 PS II was sizing up the new trainee--Jasmine, that was her name—as they worked their way around the professional copy center area. Nervously, he sidled around a bit, hoping she wouldn’t notice that he was placing himself between her and an inanimate piece of equipment. Because that would be silly.

“So. Um. Any questions?”

Jasmine shook her head. She was bored. This job was stupid. People at school had told her it would be easy, but, god, to sit here and poke pieces of paper into machines all day long for minimum wage. How could her parents possibly think this kind of thing would be good for her? She was going to find another job as soon as possible. Maybe working at a gym or a surf shop or a bookstore or something. God. Anything was better than this. The uniforms weren’t even cute.

“Okay,” said Peter, surreptitiously tucking in what he just knew was an errant shirttail. “So that’s the tour. Let’s get you started on the machines.” He had to get a grip on himself. He could have sworn that the little Canon they used for basic jobs just growled at him as they walked past. What he needed was a vacation. Something to stop the dreams he kept having about the machines.