Joe the Control Room Guy
in
“Another Christmas Eve”
Not all dreams are nightmares.
And sometimes they aren’t even dreams...
in
“Another Christmas Eve”
Not all dreams are nightmares.
And sometimes they aren’t even dreams...
It was 19:40 on another Christmas Eve, and Joe had signed up for the overnight shift. At least, he thought to himself as he drove through the snow, there wasn’t any doubt about it this year – he remembered actually signing up in order to give the other night guys a break. It was a cold night, and despite the warmth of the car, he shivered a little and turned up the music. Snowflakes gleamed in his headlights.
Joe pulled into the snow-covered parking lot, and parked on the left near the back entrance, just across from the big transmitting dish. Lining the low hill on the right side was the row of smaller satellite dishes. As he got out of the car he looked carefully at them – he would have to sweep them out pretty soon. But first, he’d check in and see how much work there was waiting for him. He glanced up into the falling snow, hoping to spot a Christmas star, but nothing could be seen in the dark overcast sky. It was cold, and he ran up the steps, waved his badge over the scanner, and went inside.
When Joe got into the Control Room, Al was hard at work encoding. The cart was full of tapes, and the animated puppy which announced the presence of “ingested” spots was twitching in shock.
Al waved a hand. “You wanna get those ingest spots, Joe? Some are due tomorrow, and so are about half of these on the cart. I’ve already put the future ones aside. And there’s pizza in the freezer for us, and there’s cookies and other goodies.”
“Wow. What a pile of spots.” Joe shook his head. “I would have thought we’d see some slacking off by now. Say, Al, one of us had better go out soon and sweep out the dishes.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s snowing like heck out there.”
“Really? I’ve been encoding since I came in. “ Al looked puzzled. (Watching commercial after commercial can have that effect on the brain.) “They said it might. That’s why they got in some food. I should have checked the dishes sooner.”
“Then I’ll go out and sweep now, before I get too warmed up and don’t want to go back out.” Joe grabbed the big broom from the storage closet and put his coat back on. Thinking of Christmas, he added, “I’ll get your car, too.”
“Thanks!”
“Won’t take long. Then I’ll get those ingest spots.”
The snow was coming down harder. Joe swept out each of the smaller dishes which received the signals of the various cable networks. The big transmitting dish had a built-in warming arrangement; it wouldn’t have a problem, but out at the dozens of remote sites, the small dishes serving the headends might fill up – then there would be a variety of problems to handle. Well, he thought, there was nothing he could do about it. Maybe the snow wouldn’t be so heavy out in the field. After sweeping Al’s car and his own, he glanced up at the sky again, then around the parking lot – all was quiet – then he went back inside.
Joe stamped the snow from his feet, shivering with the cold. He got some coffee from the lunchroom and went back into the Control Room. As he typed up a log entry, he said to Al, “I got all the dishes, and our cars. It’s certainly coming down out there.”
Al peered around the side of his encoding station. “I’m here until ten – I’d stay longer to help, but my wife’s waiting for me to put toys together. She’ll have a steaming pot of chocolate waiting – or maybe something better... ah, like... I have it! ‘Mulled wine’.”“Sounds like you’ve been watching
“Just you wait,” Al nodded knowingly. “Anyhow, I just checked the field and everything’s OK so far. Also, Denver is off-line for maintenance, so we don’t have CANOE or DENNY running. And don’t forget to log that you swept the dishes.”
“Already done,” Joe replied as he sat down at an encoding station. “I’ll get those ingest spots now.”
* * *
The ingest spots were soon finished, and Joe started in on the tapes on the cart. After a while, Al went out and swept the dishes again. A couple of headends went “late” on WATCHER, but soon came back. Joe thought about making a pizza, but decided to wait until Al left. Besides, as long as there were spots due tomorrow, which were not yet encoded, he didn’t want to risk missing one. He looked up at the big screens. Lady CUSTOS, also called “Aunt Jenny,” the monitor with the ever-shifting eyes which “watched” the system programs, was well-behaved: she only had two eyes this year. No chains rattled in the air conditioning compartment; no bells sounded, no birds squawked. Joe hadn’t had one of those strange energy-boosting sodas for weeks. PUMP was busy sending out spots, but the to-be-sent list stayed uncomfortably constant as both he and Al were adding new spots to it just about as fast as PUMP was sending them out. But eventually the needed-spots list would only have ones for the 26th or later, and then they could take a break.
Al glanced up at the master clock – it read 21:45. “Fifteen minutes to go, Joe.”
Joe looked over at the cart. There were only a handful of tapes left to do before tomorrow. He shook his head. “You get out of here. I’ll finish these.”
“Thanks, Joe,” Al said as he stood up. He went over to the closet, got his coat, then turned back to Joe. “Since I have to do my car anyway, I’ll give the dishes another sweep before I go.”
“Thanks, Al! Merry Christmas to you and your family.”
“You too. I hope you don’t get snowed in. If you do, give me a call; I’ve got four-wheel drive. Heck, as things are going, I may have to pick up the day guy.” He looked at the schedule on the wall by the door. “Mike’s in at six. He’ll call me if he needs a ride.”
“You’ll be up at six? When are you going to sleep?”
“Who knows,” Al shrugged. “With all those toys to assemble, I may not get to sleep until tomorrow night.”
Al glanced up at the master clock – it read 21:45. “Fifteen minutes to go, Joe.”
Joe looked over at the cart. There were only a handful of tapes left to do before tomorrow. He shook his head. “You get out of here. I’ll finish these.”
“Thanks, Joe,” Al said as he stood up. He went over to the closet, got his coat, then turned back to Joe. “Since I have to do my car anyway, I’ll give the dishes another sweep before I go.”
“Thanks, Al! Merry Christmas to you and your family.”
“You too. I hope you don’t get snowed in. If you do, give me a call; I’ve got four-wheel drive. Heck, as things are going, I may have to pick up the day guy.” He looked at the schedule on the wall by the door. “Mike’s in at six. He’ll call me if he needs a ride.”
“You’ll be up at six? When are you going to sleep?”
“Who knows,” Al shrugged. “With all those toys to assemble, I may not get to sleep until tomorrow night.”
* * *
It was 22:38 when Joe finished the encodes for Christmas. That “handful” of tapes took a lot longer than he had expected, as most contained multiple spots. The Control Room was as quiet as it ever gets. For some reason, he didn’t feel like turning on any rock music. He checked over the field – everything looked OK. PUMP was still busy, but the to-be-sent list was definitely shrinking now. Well, he shrugged, he had better go check the dishes again, then he would think about preparing his lunch.
He grabbed his jacket and the cell phone, then went out into the parking lot again. It seemed even colder now. He looked up – the sky was still overcast. The fine flakes gleamed as they fell in the parking lot lights. The wind had picked up and the dishes could wait a little while. He noted with a shrug that Al’s parking place and tire tracks were covered over with snow. At this rate, he might indeed get snowed in.
Back inside, he wandered into the lunchroom. He saw the tray of cookies and a pile of various snack foods, but nothing appealed just then. He made another cup of coffee, grabbed a cookie and went back into the hall.
They always put up a little artificial tree and strung Christmas lights around the windows of the Control Room – and as Joe looked in from the dim hallway outside, their tiny gleams seemed to merge with the various WATCHER displays on the four big screens. The colored glows, together with the 48 flickering TV screens and the racks of electronic gear, gave a very curious feeling about the place – like some kind of half-magical, half-futuristic cavern of wizards... He laughed. “I wonder if Santa has something like this...”
He went back into the Control Room, sat down, and switched one of the displays over to the map of the field. He laughed again, imagining the reindeer sleigh stopping at the various headends, dropping off spots... “Have you been a good inserter this year?”
He yawned, surprising himself. He was used to the night shift now, but there had been other times when it was a tough haul to get to 6 AM. A couple of times he had had vivid, almost realistic dreams, extrapolated from the spots he had encoded, or maybe it was something he ate – or drank... But tonight everything stayed normal, and he felt fine. He ate the cookie, feeling that he should have brought the whole dish in with him. His coffee had gotten cold. Well, he would make something more substantial soon. Happily, the spots-to-be-sent list kept getting shorter and the field was staying green. The master clock read 23:03 and the logs for hour 22 were coming back.
So, Joe thought, leaning back in the chair and putting his feet up on the console. Another Christmas Eve. Maybe he’d flip through the networks, see if there was anything good to watch until midnight. Then do the chores, make a pizza, maybe do some more encoding to give the Christmas day crew a break... Before he knew it, it would be 6 AM, and he’d go home, get some sleep, then drive to his parents’ for Christmas supper. He had some nice gifts for them... He flipped the TV up onto a big screen, but there was nothing interesting. Even the rock videos were boring. He shook his head. Something didn’t feel right, but nothing he could put his finger on. Maybe he had better check around. He sat up and shifted his chair in front of a WATCHER screen.
He flipped through every headend of the field and checked everything. All was OK. He went through the networks and checked the last cues sent. Nothing missing. All the logs for hour 22 had come back. All the headends had schedules for the next days. The disks had plenty of free space. The satellite communications system was running fine. The to-be-sent list was still shrinking. The next-needed spot which had to be encoded would not be due until 1 AM on the 26th. He got the clipboard and though it was still before midnight, he did all the chores in the transmitter and computer rooms.
He came back into the Control Room, sat down and looked through the security screens, which showed the snowy parking lot and the “dish farm”; most of the inside cameras showed only dim, dark shapes as most interior lights had been turned off for the night. He saw nothing abnormal – but something anomalous seemed to be lurking just beneath the world of the senses.
Maybe I had better check the dishes again, he said to himself. So he put his jacket back on, picked up the long broom, and went back outside into the snow.
He grabbed his jacket and the cell phone, then went out into the parking lot again. It seemed even colder now. He looked up – the sky was still overcast. The fine flakes gleamed as they fell in the parking lot lights. The wind had picked up and the dishes could wait a little while. He noted with a shrug that Al’s parking place and tire tracks were covered over with snow. At this rate, he might indeed get snowed in.
Back inside, he wandered into the lunchroom. He saw the tray of cookies and a pile of various snack foods, but nothing appealed just then. He made another cup of coffee, grabbed a cookie and went back into the hall.
They always put up a little artificial tree and strung Christmas lights around the windows of the Control Room – and as Joe looked in from the dim hallway outside, their tiny gleams seemed to merge with the various WATCHER displays on the four big screens. The colored glows, together with the 48 flickering TV screens and the racks of electronic gear, gave a very curious feeling about the place – like some kind of half-magical, half-futuristic cavern of wizards... He laughed. “I wonder if Santa has something like this...”
He went back into the Control Room, sat down, and switched one of the displays over to the map of the field. He laughed again, imagining the reindeer sleigh stopping at the various headends, dropping off spots... “Have you been a good inserter this year?”
He yawned, surprising himself. He was used to the night shift now, but there had been other times when it was a tough haul to get to 6 AM. A couple of times he had had vivid, almost realistic dreams, extrapolated from the spots he had encoded, or maybe it was something he ate – or drank... But tonight everything stayed normal, and he felt fine. He ate the cookie, feeling that he should have brought the whole dish in with him. His coffee had gotten cold. Well, he would make something more substantial soon. Happily, the spots-to-be-sent list kept getting shorter and the field was staying green. The master clock read 23:03 and the logs for hour 22 were coming back.
So, Joe thought, leaning back in the chair and putting his feet up on the console. Another Christmas Eve. Maybe he’d flip through the networks, see if there was anything good to watch until midnight. Then do the chores, make a pizza, maybe do some more encoding to give the Christmas day crew a break... Before he knew it, it would be 6 AM, and he’d go home, get some sleep, then drive to his parents’ for Christmas supper. He had some nice gifts for them... He flipped the TV up onto a big screen, but there was nothing interesting. Even the rock videos were boring. He shook his head. Something didn’t feel right, but nothing he could put his finger on. Maybe he had better check around. He sat up and shifted his chair in front of a WATCHER screen.
He flipped through every headend of the field and checked everything. All was OK. He went through the networks and checked the last cues sent. Nothing missing. All the logs for hour 22 had come back. All the headends had schedules for the next days. The disks had plenty of free space. The satellite communications system was running fine. The to-be-sent list was still shrinking. The next-needed spot which had to be encoded would not be due until 1 AM on the 26th. He got the clipboard and though it was still before midnight, he did all the chores in the transmitter and computer rooms.
He came back into the Control Room, sat down and looked through the security screens, which showed the snowy parking lot and the “dish farm”; most of the inside cameras showed only dim, dark shapes as most interior lights had been turned off for the night. He saw nothing abnormal – but something anomalous seemed to be lurking just beneath the world of the senses.
Maybe I had better check the dishes again, he said to himself. So he put his jacket back on, picked up the long broom, and went back outside into the snow.
* * *
Joe decided to sweep off his car first, so he could see how much snow fell while he did the dishes. He was starting to have his doubts about the morning. Already there were maybe three or four inches on the ground, and it was still coming down. As he walked across the lot to the dish farm, he glanced again towards the sky, but shook his head and shouldered the broom. He wouldn’t see any stars tonight. Because of (or despite) the vagaries of the wind, the snow had again begun to fill the small dishes, but Joe soon had them cleared.
It certainly was a cold night, and he wanted to get back into the warmth.
As he neared the steps to the back door, he stopped and stared. There were his own tracks, partially obliterated, down the steps and across the lot towards the dishes. But another set of tracks crossed them from left to right.
A tremor ran up his spine.But what would someone be doing late at night in the snow in back of a building in a corporate park? Nothing good, probably. He felt for his cell phone. Sure, there were homes not very far away, and someone might conceivably take a shortcut to get home, but late on Christmas Eve in the snow?
Then he looked at the tracks again. They were rather small, and there wasn’t a lot of space between the footprints. This was a child – a child out late on Christmas Eve? Checking that he still had his cell phone, he turned and followed the tracks.
The tracks led around the western end of the building. The wind was stronger here, but Joe thought he heard something that wasn’t the wind. The tracks ended in a cluster of low bushes near the front of the building.
As Joe came closer to the bushes, he heard a quiet sobbing. “Cold, Mom. Cold.”
Joe peered under the bushes. There was a dark bundle of a little person, almost hidden in a heavy winter coat and hood.
Joe shook his head. There sure wasn’t anything in their instructions for something like this. But he couldn’t leave the kid outside in the cold to wait for the police. Swallowing hard, he said in what he hoped was a gentle voice, “Come on, little one, come inside with me and get warm.”
The bundle shifted slightly. “Mom?”
“We’ll get her for you,” Joe told the child. “I’ll make you some cocoa and cookies.”
The bundle stood up and put out a red-mitten-covered hand. “Cocoa good!”
It certainly was a cold night, and he wanted to get back into the warmth.As he neared the steps to the back door, he stopped and stared. There were his own tracks, partially obliterated, down the steps and across the lot towards the dishes. But another set of tracks crossed them from left to right.
A tremor ran up his spine.
Then he looked at the tracks again. They were rather small, and there wasn’t a lot of space between the footprints. This was a child – a child out late on Christmas Eve? Checking that he still had his cell phone, he turned and followed the tracks.
The tracks led around the western end of the building. The wind was stronger here, but Joe thought he heard something that wasn’t the wind. The tracks ended in a cluster of low bushes near the front of the building.
As Joe came closer to the bushes, he heard a quiet sobbing. “Cold, Mom. Cold.”
Joe peered under the bushes. There was a dark bundle of a little person, almost hidden in a heavy winter coat and hood.
Joe shook his head. There sure wasn’t anything in their instructions for something like this. But he couldn’t leave the kid outside in the cold to wait for the police. Swallowing hard, he said in what he hoped was a gentle voice, “Come on, little one, come inside with me and get warm.”The bundle shifted slightly. “Mom?”
“We’ll get her for you,” Joe told the child. “I’ll make you some cocoa and cookies.”
The bundle stood up and put out a red-mitten-covered hand. “Cocoa good!”
* * *
The child could barely walk through the snow, so Joe picked him up and soon they were back inside. Joe took him to the lunchroom, sat him down at a table, then started some cocoa.
Joe took off his coat and put it over the child. “What’s your name?”
“Eddy,” the boy sniffled, his sad little face red from the cold.
“Eddy, I’m Joe. The cocoa will be ready in just a moment.” Joe paced back and forth. He’d get what information he could, make sure the kid was getting warm and had some food, then call the police... He went over and put some Christmas cookies on a plate and put them in front of Eddy.
“Cookies! For Eddy?”
“Yes, and here’s some cocoa. Be careful, it’s hot.” Joe put the mug on the table, then started making another cup.
“Thanks,” said the child as he picked up a cookie. “Joe cocoa?”
“Sure.” Joe said. “How are those cookies?”
“Good. Cocoa good.”
Joe sat down with his own mug of cocoa. “So, Eddy, are you feeling warm now?”
“Yes, Mister Joe.”
“I’m Joe Outis.”
“Joe Oo-tis,” Eddy repeated with a little nod. He smiled, then took another cookie.
“What’s the rest of your name?”
“Seton. Spelled: S. E. T. O. N.” He drank cocoa.
Joe looked at him uncertainly, happily eating a cookie. This was lots harder than encoding. “Uh, Eddy, where do you live?”
“With Mom and Dad.”
Joe scratched his head. “No, uh, what’s your address?”
“Don’t know.” Eddy took another cookie.
“Oh.” Joe’s eyes widened. Well, at least he knew the kid’s name. The cops ought to be able to take it from there. He got out the cell phone, then realizing that he was ravenous, said, “Eddy, do you like pizza?”
“Pizza good,” replied Eddy.
“OK, I’ll make some for us.”
“Yes, Joe Oo-tis,” he said with a smile, and drank some cocoa.
Walking down to the further corner of the lunchroom, Joe put a three-slice rectangle of pizza in the toaster oven, then opened his cell phone, and dialed...
“Nine one one, what’s your emergency?”
“Uh, I found a child wandering in the snow. This is Joe Outis at AC&TG, out in the Easton corporate park...”
The dispatcher verified Joe’s location then asked, “What’s the child’s status?”
“He’s inside getting warm. Eating cookies and drinking cocoa. Seems OK.”
“How old is the child?”
“I dunno, six, maybe. Says his name is Eddy Seton.” He spelled the name.
“OK, we’re passing this on to the police. They should be there soon.”
“Thanks.”
Somewhat relieved, now that he had contacted the authorities, Joe walked back to the table where Eddy was sitting. His mug was empty, and there were no more cookies left on the plate.
“Eddy, would you like some more cocoa?”
“Cocoa good.”
“OK. The pizza will be done soon.”
Joe made some more cocoa for Eddy, then went to check on the pizza. It was ready, and when he came back with it and some plates, Eddy had taken off Joe’s and his own coat.
“Are you warm now?”
“Yes, Joe Oo-tis.”
Joe sat down and put a piece of the pizza on a plate. “Here’s a piece for you.”
“Good.”
The two ate in silence. Joe glanced at the clock. He was starting to wonder how long it would take the police to get there. He got up and went over to the snacks. He took a little bag of chips and another of pretzels, opened then and put them down on the table near Eddy.
Joe took off his coat and put it over the child. “What’s your name?”
“Eddy,” the boy sniffled, his sad little face red from the cold.
“Eddy, I’m Joe. The cocoa will be ready in just a moment.” Joe paced back and forth. He’d get what information he could, make sure the kid was getting warm and had some food, then call the police... He went over and put some Christmas cookies on a plate and put them in front of Eddy.
“Cookies! For Eddy?”
“Yes, and here’s some cocoa. Be careful, it’s hot.” Joe put the mug on the table, then started making another cup.
“Thanks,” said the child as he picked up a cookie. “Joe cocoa?”
“Sure.” Joe said. “How are those cookies?”
“Good. Cocoa good.”
Joe sat down with his own mug of cocoa. “So, Eddy, are you feeling warm now?”
“Yes, Mister Joe.”
“I’m Joe Outis.”
“Joe Oo-tis,” Eddy repeated with a little nod. He smiled, then took another cookie.
“What’s the rest of your name?”
“Seton. Spelled: S. E. T. O. N.” He drank cocoa.
Joe looked at him uncertainly, happily eating a cookie. This was lots harder than encoding. “Uh, Eddy, where do you live?”
“With Mom and Dad.”
Joe scratched his head. “No, uh, what’s your address?”
“Don’t know.” Eddy took another cookie.
“Oh.” Joe’s eyes widened. Well, at least he knew the kid’s name. The cops ought to be able to take it from there. He got out the cell phone, then realizing that he was ravenous, said, “Eddy, do you like pizza?”
“Pizza good,” replied Eddy.
“OK, I’ll make some for us.”
“Yes, Joe Oo-tis,” he said with a smile, and drank some cocoa.
Walking down to the further corner of the lunchroom, Joe put a three-slice rectangle of pizza in the toaster oven, then opened his cell phone, and dialed...
“Nine one one, what’s your emergency?”
“Uh, I found a child wandering in the snow. This is Joe Outis at AC&TG, out in the Easton corporate park...”
The dispatcher verified Joe’s location then asked, “What’s the child’s status?”
“He’s inside getting warm. Eating cookies and drinking cocoa. Seems OK.”
“How old is the child?”
“I dunno, six, maybe. Says his name is Eddy Seton.” He spelled the name.
“OK, we’re passing this on to the police. They should be there soon.”
“Thanks.”
Somewhat relieved, now that he had contacted the authorities, Joe walked back to the table where Eddy was sitting. His mug was empty, and there were no more cookies left on the plate.
“Eddy, would you like some more cocoa?”
“Cocoa good.”
“OK. The pizza will be done soon.”
Joe made some more cocoa for Eddy, then went to check on the pizza. It was ready, and when he came back with it and some plates, Eddy had taken off Joe’s and his own coat.
“Are you warm now?”
“Yes, Joe Oo-tis.”
Joe sat down and put a piece of the pizza on a plate. “Here’s a piece for you.”
“Good.”
The two ate in silence. Joe glanced at the clock. He was starting to wonder how long it would take the police to get there. He got up and went over to the snacks. He took a little bag of chips and another of pretzels, opened then and put them down on the table near Eddy.
* * *
The bags were empty. Another two rectangles of pizza were consumed. Joe had lost count of the cups of cocoa he had made. Joe looked at Eddy as he finished a cookie. The boy seemed happy, but he certainly was a quiet little kid.
“Nice and warm now, Eddy?”
“Warm good.”
“All full?”
Eddy smiled. His eyes started to close. Joe didn’t want him to sleep in the lunchroom, so he said, “Hey, Eddy, let’s go see where I work.”
“Yes, Joe Oo-tis.” He got up from the chair. Joe picked up their coats and taking Eddy’s hand, led him out into the hall.
When Eddy saw the big glass windows of the Control Room, outlined in Christmas lights, the big monitoring screens with the colored dots of WATCHER and the ever-shifting eyes of CUSTOS, Joe heard him make a little gasping sound.
“Hmh... What, Joe Oo-tis?” Eddy waved a hand towards the lights. “What?”
Joe looked down at the boy, who looked up, his eyes wide with awe. “This is the Control Room, Eddy. This is where I work. We, uh...” Joe struggled to think of a child-level explanation. “We... we do TV commercials here.”
“TV good.” Eddy’s voice was quiet. Then he saw the little Christmas tree.
“Chris’mas good.”
“Yeah, Eddy, Christmas good.”
From her vantage point, “Aunt Jenny”might have remarked that for a moment, both faces wore the same smile.
The two stood there in the silent hallway, Eddy’s eyes wide, devouring the magical scene before him. But Joe looked over at the master clock, and wondered what was keeping the police. Well, that snow was getting deep out there... Then he remembered – the dishes! Well, they could wait a little longer. Maybe Eddy would fall asleep, then, he could... No, on second thought, that wouldn’t be wise at all, to leave the kid alone inside the building. It was well after midnight now; so if they lost a cue it wouldn’t be a disaster. And he would know from the black-and-white monitors anyway if any of the signals got too weak. Maybe the wind would keep the dishes clear...
“Let’s go inside, Eddy, and I’ll show you some neat things.”
“Yes, Joe Oo-tis.”
Few people had ever entered the Control Room with mouth agape, with eyes wide in astonishment, as Eddy Seton did, holding tightly to Joe’s hand. Joe looked down at him and smiled. It really was a magic cavern of high-tech wizardry.
Joe let go of Eddy’s hand and piled their coats on a chair. He looked quickly at the security monitors. The flashing lights of a squad car would be easily visible – but all he saw was the snow-covered parking lot. It looked cold – and deep.
Then Eddy saw the ever-shifting eyes of the CUSTOS monitor.
“Eyes!”
“Yes, Eddy, eyes. That’s ‘Aunt Jenny’. She watches the systems.”
“Watches,” he repeated.
“That’s right. And I watch too.”
“Joe Oo-tis watches. Aunt Jenny watches.” Something about this must have tickled Eddy, and he started to laugh with a quiet chuckle.
“Here, Eddy, have a seat.” Joe helped him into a chair, then sat down himself.
Eddy yawned, his eyes starting to close in spite of himself. He wanted to feast on the colors of the monitor screens, but he was warm and full and he had had a long walk in the cold snow.
“Chris’mas,” he said.
“Yes, Eddy, Merry Christmas.” Joe looked at the boy, whose eyes were nearly closed. He sat silently and watched a moment or two, then got up and covered him with their coats.
Joe went back to the consoles, checked the e-mail for new messages, then did a hurried scan through the various monitors. Everything looked fine. No cues were missing, so the dishes must still be relatively clear. The to-be-sent list was still shrinking. He was glad he had done all the chores earlier. But – and he glanced again at the security screens – still no police. He really didn’t want to call them a second time, since the boy was safe and warm, but surely his parents must be worried. He found the telephone book and looked for “Seton” but there were too many to warrant calling in the middle of the night. Who knows, Joe thought, they might be at Midnight Mass anyway, and he didn’t want to go leaving messages, especially if they weren’t relations. Well, he’d wait a little longer, then call the police on their non-emergency number... He looked at the sleeping child – he didn’t dare put on any rock music. Well, he thought, he might as well do some encoding and maybe the cops would come soon.
Joe pushed the chair in which Eddy was sleeping over to one side so he could see him from the encoding station. He could use the headphones so Eddy wouldn’t wake up. Before he started, he remembered to turn the volume down on CUSTOS in case it suddenly squawked. After every spot he checked that “Aunt Jenny” still had her happy eyes, then he glanced over at the security screens, hoping to see flashing lights. There had been a false alarm; he figured it was a snow plow going down the highway just outside the corporate park.
“Nice and warm now, Eddy?”
“Warm good.”
“All full?”
Eddy smiled. His eyes started to close. Joe didn’t want him to sleep in the lunchroom, so he said, “Hey, Eddy, let’s go see where I work.”
“Yes, Joe Oo-tis.” He got up from the chair. Joe picked up their coats and taking Eddy’s hand, led him out into the hall.
When Eddy saw the big glass windows of the Control Room, outlined in Christmas lights, the big monitoring screens with the colored dots of WATCHER and the ever-shifting eyes of CUSTOS, Joe heard him make a little gasping sound.
“Hmh... What, Joe Oo-tis?” Eddy waved a hand towards the lights. “What?”
Joe looked down at the boy, who looked up, his eyes wide with awe. “This is the Control Room, Eddy. This is where I work. We, uh...” Joe struggled to think of a child-level explanation. “We... we do TV commercials here.”
“TV good.” Eddy’s voice was quiet. Then he saw the little Christmas tree.
“Chris’mas good.”“Yeah, Eddy, Christmas good.”
From her vantage point, “Aunt Jenny”might have remarked that for a moment, both faces wore the same smile.
The two stood there in the silent hallway, Eddy’s eyes wide, devouring the magical scene before him. But Joe looked over at the master clock, and wondered what was keeping the police. Well, that snow was getting deep out there... Then he remembered – the dishes! Well, they could wait a little longer. Maybe Eddy would fall asleep, then, he could... No, on second thought, that wouldn’t be wise at all, to leave the kid alone inside the building. It was well after midnight now; so if they lost a cue it wouldn’t be a disaster. And he would know from the black-and-white monitors anyway if any of the signals got too weak. Maybe the wind would keep the dishes clear...
“Let’s go inside, Eddy, and I’ll show you some neat things.”
“Yes, Joe Oo-tis.”
Few people had ever entered the Control Room with mouth agape, with eyes wide in astonishment, as Eddy Seton did, holding tightly to Joe’s hand. Joe looked down at him and smiled. It really was a magic cavern of high-tech wizardry.
Joe let go of Eddy’s hand and piled their coats on a chair. He looked quickly at the security monitors. The flashing lights of a squad car would be easily visible – but all he saw was the snow-covered parking lot. It looked cold – and deep.
Then Eddy saw the ever-shifting eyes of the CUSTOS monitor.
“Eyes!”
“Yes, Eddy, eyes. That’s ‘Aunt Jenny’. She watches the systems.”
“Watches,” he repeated.
“That’s right. And I watch too.”
“Joe Oo-tis watches. Aunt Jenny watches.” Something about this must have tickled Eddy, and he started to laugh with a quiet chuckle.
“Here, Eddy, have a seat.” Joe helped him into a chair, then sat down himself.
Eddy yawned, his eyes starting to close in spite of himself. He wanted to feast on the colors of the monitor screens, but he was warm and full and he had had a long walk in the cold snow.
“Chris’mas,” he said.
“Yes, Eddy, Merry Christmas.” Joe looked at the boy, whose eyes were nearly closed. He sat silently and watched a moment or two, then got up and covered him with their coats.
Joe went back to the consoles, checked the e-mail for new messages, then did a hurried scan through the various monitors. Everything looked fine. No cues were missing, so the dishes must still be relatively clear. The to-be-sent list was still shrinking. He was glad he had done all the chores earlier. But – and he glanced again at the security screens – still no police. He really didn’t want to call them a second time, since the boy was safe and warm, but surely his parents must be worried. He found the telephone book and looked for “Seton” but there were too many to warrant calling in the middle of the night. Who knows, Joe thought, they might be at Midnight Mass anyway, and he didn’t want to go leaving messages, especially if they weren’t relations. Well, he’d wait a little longer, then call the police on their non-emergency number... He looked at the sleeping child – he didn’t dare put on any rock music. Well, he thought, he might as well do some encoding and maybe the cops would come soon.
Joe pushed the chair in which Eddy was sleeping over to one side so he could see him from the encoding station. He could use the headphones so Eddy wouldn’t wake up. Before he started, he remembered to turn the volume down on CUSTOS in case it suddenly squawked. After every spot he checked that “Aunt Jenny” still had her happy eyes, then he glanced over at the security screens, hoping to see flashing lights. There had been a false alarm; he figured it was a snow plow going down the highway just outside the corporate park.
* * *
More than half an hour had gone by, and Joe took off the headphones, stretched, and rubbed his ears. At least he had made some progress on the next day’s spots. But he was starting to wonder what might be happening that was delaying the police – unless it was the snow storm itself.
He picked up the telephone book, found the non-emergency number for the police, then dialed it.
“Sergeant Hirundo.”
“Yes, this is Joe Outis at AC&TG,” Joe said softly. “I had called 9-1-1 earlier about a child I found out in the snow...”
“Yes, we were notified,” the officer was rather brusque. “Is there some problem?”
“Er, no,” Joe stammered, “I, ah, fed him, he’s warm, and ah, sleeping. He’s OK.”
“Fine; call us if there’s any problem.” The line went dead.
Puzzled, Joe hung up the phone. He looked over at Eddy. There was a faint smile on his face.
“Well, I guess I’ll do some more encoding,” Joe murmured, and walked back to the encoding station.
The night went slowly on. Joe continued encoding, checking periodically on Eddy, the cues, and the field. There was still no sign of the police, not even a phone call. He could see from the security monitors that the snow was still falling, but since the cues continued to come normally, he figured the wind must be keeping the dishes clear. He couldn’t really see his car from any of the cameras, but it certainly looked deep out there. Eddy was sleeping peacefully. Every so often he made a little grunt, but he did not wake up, even when Joe accidentally knocked a tape onto the floor.
The night wore on. Eventually all the spots were encoded. Joe rubbed his ears again and pushed the finished cart over to the side of the room. He looked up at the to-be-sent list. PUMP was going to be working for a while, but the day guy was going to have an easy shift. He felt like a snack, but didn’t want to leave Eddy alone in the Control Room – there were just too many things that could go wrong. He shifted Eddy in his chair back to the front of room by the console, so he could start the inserter checks and still keep an eye on him. He looked so peaceful sleeping, just the hint of a smile. “Must be having happy dreams,” Joe said to himself.
After encoding for hours, it was slow going, connecting to the remote inserters by telephone and checking the readings on the satellite transmitters. Soon Joe got tired of sitting at a keyboard, so he walked over to the big glass windows and looked out into the dim offices beyond, lit with a faint glow from the Christmas lights lining the windows. He wondered what was going on out in the real world: what was holding up the police, where Eddy’s parents were, whether Mike would be able to get in at six.
Suddenly he heard Eddy call out: “Angry lady! Angry lady!”
He turned and asked, “What is it, Eddy?”
The boy was pointing up at the big screen. Sure enough, the usually placid eyes of “Aunt Jenny” were flashing red.
“Ha! Good work, Eddy!” Joe ran up to the console. He had turned the volume down, and the usual “Attention! PUMP is not running!” warning couldn’t be heard. For the little dot by PUMP, usually green, was now red. “Come with me, Eddy, we’ll go fix it.”
Eddy got up and followed Joe into the computer room. Soon they came back out. “It’s ok now, see?”
Eddy looked up at the screen. “Happy lady.”
“Joe watches, now Eddy watches.” Joe chuckled in friendly mimicry. “Eddy good!”
“Hmh,” Eddy smiled. “Want water.”
“OK, let’s go get a drink.”
He picked up the telephone book, found the non-emergency number for the police, then dialed it.
“Sergeant Hirundo.”
“Yes, this is Joe Outis at AC&TG,” Joe said softly. “I had called 9-1-1 earlier about a child I found out in the snow...”
“Yes, we were notified,” the officer was rather brusque. “Is there some problem?”
“Er, no,” Joe stammered, “I, ah, fed him, he’s warm, and ah, sleeping. He’s OK.”
“Fine; call us if there’s any problem.” The line went dead.
Puzzled, Joe hung up the phone. He looked over at Eddy. There was a faint smile on his face.
“Well, I guess I’ll do some more encoding,” Joe murmured, and walked back to the encoding station.
The night went slowly on. Joe continued encoding, checking periodically on Eddy, the cues, and the field. There was still no sign of the police, not even a phone call. He could see from the security monitors that the snow was still falling, but since the cues continued to come normally, he figured the wind must be keeping the dishes clear. He couldn’t really see his car from any of the cameras, but it certainly looked deep out there. Eddy was sleeping peacefully. Every so often he made a little grunt, but he did not wake up, even when Joe accidentally knocked a tape onto the floor.
The night wore on. Eventually all the spots were encoded. Joe rubbed his ears again and pushed the finished cart over to the side of the room. He looked up at the to-be-sent list. PUMP was going to be working for a while, but the day guy was going to have an easy shift. He felt like a snack, but didn’t want to leave Eddy alone in the Control Room – there were just too many things that could go wrong. He shifted Eddy in his chair back to the front of room by the console, so he could start the inserter checks and still keep an eye on him. He looked so peaceful sleeping, just the hint of a smile. “Must be having happy dreams,” Joe said to himself.
After encoding for hours, it was slow going, connecting to the remote inserters by telephone and checking the readings on the satellite transmitters. Soon Joe got tired of sitting at a keyboard, so he walked over to the big glass windows and looked out into the dim offices beyond, lit with a faint glow from the Christmas lights lining the windows. He wondered what was going on out in the real world: what was holding up the police, where Eddy’s parents were, whether Mike would be able to get in at six.
Suddenly he heard Eddy call out: “Angry lady! Angry lady!”
He turned and asked, “What is it, Eddy?”
The boy was pointing up at the big screen. Sure enough, the usually placid eyes of “Aunt Jenny” were flashing red.“Ha! Good work, Eddy!” Joe ran up to the console. He had turned the volume down, and the usual “Attention! PUMP is not running!” warning couldn’t be heard. For the little dot by PUMP, usually green, was now red. “Come with me, Eddy, we’ll go fix it.”
Eddy got up and followed Joe into the computer room. Soon they came back out. “It’s ok now, see?”
Eddy looked up at the screen. “Happy lady.”
“Joe watches, now Eddy watches.” Joe chuckled in friendly mimicry. “Eddy good!”
“Hmh,” Eddy smiled. “Want water.”
“OK, let’s go get a drink.”
* * *
The two came back into the Control Room. They had made a detour to get some more cookies; Joe had a cup of coffee, and Eddy had water. Eddy got back in the chair and covered himself with his own coat and Joe’s. Joe went over to the event log and typed the following entry:
4:35 Pump went down. Restarted without problem. JO/ES
Joe sat down near Eddy and smiled at him. “Thanks, Eddy.”
The boy smiled back but said nothing.
Joe leaned back, putting his arms behind his head. “It’s a long night, isn’t it?”
“Not long. Joe Oo-tis good.”
Soon Eddy’s eyes closed again. Joe shook his head, smiling.
When Joe was sure that Eddy was asleep, he went quietly over to their storage closet. He seemed to recall seeing something in a big box... Yeah, there were still a few left. He found an appropriate one, then looked around for a suitable container... Somewhere they kept a couple of pre-formed boxes for mailing out video tapes. He had to hunt around for one, and when he finally found one, it proved to be big enough with just a little squeezing. Finally, he went back to the console and spent a few minutes with the PAINTBOX program... He printed his effort out and taped it to the box, then put it under their little Christmas tree. Now he was ready for the morning.
Joe sat down again at the console and frowned. He looked over at the security monitors, the snow covering the parking lot was smooth and unbroken. It sure was strange that the police had not arrived, and had not even called back. Well, he was not going to call them back again; sooner or later they would come. He glanced over and saw that Eddy was still sound asleep, so he went back to checking the inserters.
4:35 Pump went down. Restarted without problem. JO/ES
Joe sat down near Eddy and smiled at him. “Thanks, Eddy.”
The boy smiled back but said nothing.
Joe leaned back, putting his arms behind his head. “It’s a long night, isn’t it?”
“Not long. Joe Oo-tis good.”
Soon Eddy’s eyes closed again. Joe shook his head, smiling.
When Joe was sure that Eddy was asleep, he went quietly over to their storage closet. He seemed to recall seeing something in a big box... Yeah, there were still a few left. He found an appropriate one, then looked around for a suitable container... Somewhere they kept a couple of pre-formed boxes for mailing out video tapes. He had to hunt around for one, and when he finally found one, it proved to be big enough with just a little squeezing. Finally, he went back to the console and spent a few minutes with the PAINTBOX program... He printed his effort out and taped it to the box, then put it under their little Christmas tree. Now he was ready for the morning.
Joe sat down again at the console and frowned. He looked over at the security monitors, the snow covering the parking lot was smooth and unbroken. It sure was strange that the police had not arrived, and had not even called back. Well, he was not going to call them back again; sooner or later they would come. He glanced over and saw that Eddy was still sound asleep, so he went back to checking the inserters.
* * *
Joe stood up and stretched. It was nearly half past five. The inserter checks were done. Eddy was still asleep. PUMP had finished sending spots, and the to-be-sent list was finally empty. Everything was as quiet and normal as it could be – except for the boy, hidden under the jackets, sleeping in a chair by the consoles. He walked over to the windows and looked out, seeing the reflections of the big screens, the Christmas lights, the little tree with a strangely wrapped box beneath... It felt like a dream, but even its abnormality was too simple, too normal for the arrival of dawn (or the arrival of his replacement from the day shift) to awaken him from the fantasy. He walked back and looked at the security monitors. The snow was obviously very deep – then he checked the networks display. Still, the cues continued to come in; none had missed. Maybe it was the wind.
Then the phone rang. It had never seemed quite so shrill. He grabbed it; Eddy’s eyes went open for a moment but then they closed again.
“Control Room. This is Joe.”
“Joe, it’s Mike.”
“Mike! What’s up?”
“I’m going to be late. I’ve been up half the night. I’ve been over at my parents since last evening – we had a family emergency...”
“Better be careful, driving, Mike, that snow looks deep.”
“I know, but Al told me he would... Wait a second. What do you mean, ‘looks deep’? Haven’t you been out, sweeping the dishes?”
Joe smirked. “No, but we haven’t missed any cues. I had a rather novel watching job for the last few hours.”
“What do you mean? What happened?”
“It’s OK, everything’s fine. I had gone out to sweep the dishes, and I found this lost child...”
“Lost child!” Mike yelled. “What’s he look like?”
“He’s a little guy, black jacket, red mittens. Brown hair. Kind of a tiny nose. Says his name’s Eddy Seton.”
“Mom! Dad! Aunt Ruth!” Joe held the phone away from his ear. There was a lot of yelling, then the line went dead.
Joe hung up the phone. He stared at Eddy, smiling slightly as he dreamed. Could this child be Mike’s “family emergency”? Well, he would “continue to monitor,” as they would phrase it in the event log.
Time crept slowly on. The telephone didn’t ring again. Deciding to risk a minute away from Eddy, Joe dashed into the computer room and did the next round of chores. When he came back it seemed that Eddy hadn’t moved at all; he was still sound asleep. Joe sat down and went over the event log and added a note or two. He wasn’t sure whether to record the Eddy story yet, so he decided to let it up to Mike when he came in – if he came in. Again he checked the various monitors; he saw nothing unusual until he looked at the security screens, and was surprised to see a flashing light coming into the parking lot.
But it wasn’t a blue and red flash – it was yellow. It was a big snow plow. Still, that was a welcome sight, as it hinted that Mike might get in eventually and also that Joe might be able to drive home. But though the plow was making a pathway, it didn’t seem to be doing much clearing of the parking lot. Instead, it came around the back of the building, and came right to the back steps. The passenger-side door swung open and someone climbed down... Joe looked again. That sure looked like Mike. Then the security computer registered Mike entering at the back door!
In a couple of seconds Mike came into the Control Room. Joe met him at the door. “He’s asleep.”
Mike nodded, shaking snow off his jacket. “I don’t believe it,” he said quietly, looking at Eddy. “We’ve been in a panic since late last night; the cops told us they were working on it; we tried to go out but the snow was too much; Mom and Aunt Ruth were praying, crying... I couldn’t get my brother Stan – that’s him in the plow – until this morning; he was working all night.”
“So Eddy’s your, uh, cousin?” Joe guessed.
“Yeah, my mom’s sister’s boy. I can’t believe it. He’s here, asleep, all OK. Wow, Joe, what a relief. I’ve got to call home.”
“I’m going for some coffee – you want some? Or your brother?”
“Nah,” Mike said as he picked up the phone. “He’s got a big thermos with him. And I don’t need anything; I’m too excited. And I want to hear the story – but I’ve got to call home first.”
Joe made himself some coffee, and prepared another mug of cocoa for Eddy. He decided to make a cup for Mike anyway. Putting the mugs onto a tray, he added a plate of cookies, and went back to the Control Room.
As he came in, Mike hung up the telephone. “Wow, you’ll never believe it, Joe.”
“What’s up?”
Mike’s voice was low, but filled with excitement. “There was a big robbery downtown late last night, and a policeman was shot. Most of the force was after the robbers, and others were at the hospital. They deferred all the non-emergency calls, and since they knew Eddy was OK, they didn’t bother sending anyone here. But somehow they never got around to letting us know that Eddy was here.”
“Really? Why?”
“With the robbery and that officer getting shot, I guess each cop in their control room thought another guy had called us – so the message never got passed on.”
“Ha,” Joe laughed softly. “I thought that kind of screw-up only happened here.”
“You never know,” Mike shrugged and sipped his coffee. “We had better wake him now, so you can go home with him, then Stan will drop you off at your house,
“Why aren’t you going home with him?”
“You forget it’s after six,” Mike gestured at the master clock. “I’m on duty, and you’re off. Just give me an event-log kind of summary of what happened, and you can tell my parents and aunt the complete details when you get there. It’s only a five-minute drive.”
Joe nodded. “I went out to clean the dishes off – it must have been just after midnight or so. When I walked back to come in, I saw another set of tracks in the snow... I followed them and found Eddy.”
Just then Eddy broke in. “Angry lady! Angry lady!”
“Eddy!” Mike jumped up. “What’s that mean!”
“Oh, PUMP must have gone down again – I had turned the volume down on CUSTOS,” Joe explained, “and he’s been watching the eyes to let me know... Eddy, how about some cocoa?”
“Cocoa good.”
“Hi, Eddy.”
“Mike...” Eddy looked puzzled, seeing a familiar face in an unexpected place. “Mike with Joe Oo-tis?”
“Yes, we work together. Have some cocoa with Joe, and a cookie, then go home to Mom.”
“Mom! Mom good.” Eddy picked up his mug and drank.
Joe smiled and winked at Mike. “Eddy, I think there is something by the Christmas tree for you.”
“For Eddy?” came the little voice.
“Yes. Then you will go home.”
“Home good.”
Mike and Joe laughed.
“Speaking of HOME, I’ll go take care of PUMP,” Mike said.
Mike shook his head as he came back into the room. “Stupid. I was so excited I forgot to take off my coat.” He waved a finger, so Joe followed him over to the storage closet. Still keeping an eye on Eddy, Mike asked quietly, “What did you find to give him?”
“One of those small-size uniform shirts that came in that last shipment.” Joe pointed to a big box in the corner.
Mike chuckled and hung up his coat. “Joe, I can’t tell you how happy I am – and how glad my aunt and parents will be – that’s another reason why you have to go back with him. Besides, he likes you – I can tell. You know he has Down’s... he’s almost 11, but he looks lots younger. He must have run out sometime late last night, we’ll probably never know why... And he got all the way out here – in that snow.”
Joe shook his head and yawned. “It’s amazing. Something about Christmas, I guess.”
Meanwhile, Eddy had finished his cocoa, then he went over to the Christmas tree and found the box – it was the only box under the tree. The custom-made wrapper and label had his name in dozens of fonts, and a screen-snapshot of CUSTOS with the eyes. When the two got back to the console, Eddy had opened it and taken the shirt out. He struggled to put it on, so Mike helped him pull it over his head.
“There, Eddy. Now, you’re a Control Room guy, too.”
“Hmh!” Eddy grunted.
“That means he’s really pleased,” Mike explained. “Time to put your coat on, then you go home.”
“Home good.” Eddy smiled. “Happy lady.”
“He means CUSTOS,” Joe translated. “It sure was an interesting night.” He nodded, yawned again, and picked up his jacket. “Oh, and I have a Christmas present for you, too, Mike.”
“Really?”
“Yeah – I hope you like it.”
“Uh, Joe...” He looked away for a moment. “I, uh, don’t see how you can top the one you’ve already given me.”
“OK, if you don’t want it, give it to the next shift. Just check out the needed-spots list a little later. Er, and you probably ought to sweep out the dishes before you do anything else.”
“Why? We’ve been missing cues?
“No, but the last time I did them was when I found Eddy.”
Mike turned slowly, a strange look on his face. “That’s odd.”
“Why?”
“I looked over at them as we pulled in. They were all clear.”
“You’re crazy.” Joe shook his head. “How can that be?”
Mike sat down at the console and pulled up the event log. “I don’t know. You can see for yourself when you go out.”
Joe looked around the Control Room, smiling at the Christmas lights, then saw that Eddy had pulled on his coat and mittens.
“Let’s go, Eddy. Time to go home.”
“Home good. Happy lady.”
“Yeah, that’s right. See you, Mike. Merry Christmas. Don’t forget to turn the volume on CUSTOS back up.”
“OK, Joe, thanks. Bye, Eddy, see you tonight.”
“Bye Mike.”
Then the phone rang. It had never seemed quite so shrill. He grabbed it; Eddy’s eyes went open for a moment but then they closed again.
“Control Room. This is Joe.”
“Joe, it’s Mike.”
“Mike! What’s up?”
“I’m going to be late. I’ve been up half the night. I’ve been over at my parents since last evening – we had a family emergency...”
“Better be careful, driving, Mike, that snow looks deep.”
“I know, but Al told me he would... Wait a second. What do you mean, ‘looks deep’? Haven’t you been out, sweeping the dishes?”
Joe smirked. “No, but we haven’t missed any cues. I had a rather novel watching job for the last few hours.”
“What do you mean? What happened?”
“It’s OK, everything’s fine. I had gone out to sweep the dishes, and I found this lost child...”
“Lost child!” Mike yelled. “What’s he look like?”
“He’s a little guy, black jacket, red mittens. Brown hair. Kind of a tiny nose. Says his name’s Eddy Seton.”
“Mom! Dad! Aunt Ruth!” Joe held the phone away from his ear. There was a lot of yelling, then the line went dead.
Joe hung up the phone. He stared at Eddy, smiling slightly as he dreamed. Could this child be Mike’s “family emergency”? Well, he would “continue to monitor,” as they would phrase it in the event log.
Time crept slowly on. The telephone didn’t ring again. Deciding to risk a minute away from Eddy, Joe dashed into the computer room and did the next round of chores. When he came back it seemed that Eddy hadn’t moved at all; he was still sound asleep. Joe sat down and went over the event log and added a note or two. He wasn’t sure whether to record the Eddy story yet, so he decided to let it up to Mike when he came in – if he came in. Again he checked the various monitors; he saw nothing unusual until he looked at the security screens, and was surprised to see a flashing light coming into the parking lot.
But it wasn’t a blue and red flash – it was yellow. It was a big snow plow. Still, that was a welcome sight, as it hinted that Mike might get in eventually and also that Joe might be able to drive home. But though the plow was making a pathway, it didn’t seem to be doing much clearing of the parking lot. Instead, it came around the back of the building, and came right to the back steps. The passenger-side door swung open and someone climbed down... Joe looked again. That sure looked like Mike. Then the security computer registered Mike entering at the back door!
In a couple of seconds Mike came into the Control Room. Joe met him at the door. “He’s asleep.”
Mike nodded, shaking snow off his jacket. “I don’t believe it,” he said quietly, looking at Eddy. “We’ve been in a panic since late last night; the cops told us they were working on it; we tried to go out but the snow was too much; Mom and Aunt Ruth were praying, crying... I couldn’t get my brother Stan – that’s him in the plow – until this morning; he was working all night.”
“So Eddy’s your, uh, cousin?” Joe guessed.
“Yeah, my mom’s sister’s boy. I can’t believe it. He’s here, asleep, all OK. Wow, Joe, what a relief. I’ve got to call home.”
“I’m going for some coffee – you want some? Or your brother?”
“Nah,” Mike said as he picked up the phone. “He’s got a big thermos with him. And I don’t need anything; I’m too excited. And I want to hear the story – but I’ve got to call home first.”
Joe made himself some coffee, and prepared another mug of cocoa for Eddy. He decided to make a cup for Mike anyway. Putting the mugs onto a tray, he added a plate of cookies, and went back to the Control Room.
As he came in, Mike hung up the telephone. “Wow, you’ll never believe it, Joe.”
“What’s up?”
Mike’s voice was low, but filled with excitement. “There was a big robbery downtown late last night, and a policeman was shot. Most of the force was after the robbers, and others were at the hospital. They deferred all the non-emergency calls, and since they knew Eddy was OK, they didn’t bother sending anyone here. But somehow they never got around to letting us know that Eddy was here.”
“Really? Why?”
“With the robbery and that officer getting shot, I guess each cop in their control room thought another guy had called us – so the message never got passed on.”
“Ha,” Joe laughed softly. “I thought that kind of screw-up only happened here.”
“You never know,” Mike shrugged and sipped his coffee. “We had better wake him now, so you can go home with him, then Stan will drop you off at your house,
“Why aren’t you going home with him?”
“You forget it’s after six,” Mike gestured at the master clock. “I’m on duty, and you’re off. Just give me an event-log kind of summary of what happened, and you can tell my parents and aunt the complete details when you get there. It’s only a five-minute drive.”
Joe nodded. “I went out to clean the dishes off – it must have been just after midnight or so. When I walked back to come in, I saw another set of tracks in the snow... I followed them and found Eddy.”
Just then Eddy broke in. “Angry lady! Angry lady!”
“Eddy!” Mike jumped up. “What’s that mean!”
“Oh, PUMP must have gone down again – I had turned the volume down on CUSTOS,” Joe explained, “and he’s been watching the eyes to let me know... Eddy, how about some cocoa?”
“Cocoa good.”
“Hi, Eddy.”
“Mike...” Eddy looked puzzled, seeing a familiar face in an unexpected place. “Mike with Joe Oo-tis?”
“Yes, we work together. Have some cocoa with Joe, and a cookie, then go home to Mom.”
“Mom! Mom good.” Eddy picked up his mug and drank.
Joe smiled and winked at Mike. “Eddy, I think there is something by the Christmas tree for you.”
“For Eddy?” came the little voice.
“Yes. Then you will go home.”
“Home good.”
Mike and Joe laughed.
“Speaking of HOME, I’ll go take care of PUMP,” Mike said.
Mike shook his head as he came back into the room. “Stupid. I was so excited I forgot to take off my coat.” He waved a finger, so Joe followed him over to the storage closet. Still keeping an eye on Eddy, Mike asked quietly, “What did you find to give him?”
“One of those small-size uniform shirts that came in that last shipment.” Joe pointed to a big box in the corner.
Mike chuckled and hung up his coat. “Joe, I can’t tell you how happy I am – and how glad my aunt and parents will be – that’s another reason why you have to go back with him. Besides, he likes you – I can tell. You know he has Down’s... he’s almost 11, but he looks lots younger. He must have run out sometime late last night, we’ll probably never know why... And he got all the way out here – in that snow.”
Joe shook his head and yawned. “It’s amazing. Something about Christmas, I guess.”
Meanwhile, Eddy had finished his cocoa, then he went over to the Christmas tree and found the box – it was the only box under the tree. The custom-made wrapper and label had his name in dozens of fonts, and a screen-snapshot of CUSTOS with the eyes. When the two got back to the console, Eddy had opened it and taken the shirt out. He struggled to put it on, so Mike helped him pull it over his head.
“There, Eddy. Now, you’re a Control Room guy, too.”
“Hmh!” Eddy grunted.
“That means he’s really pleased,” Mike explained. “Time to put your coat on, then you go home.”
“Home good.” Eddy smiled. “Happy lady.”
“He means CUSTOS,” Joe translated. “It sure was an interesting night.” He nodded, yawned again, and picked up his jacket. “Oh, and I have a Christmas present for you, too, Mike.”
“Really?”
“Yeah – I hope you like it.”
“Uh, Joe...” He looked away for a moment. “I, uh, don’t see how you can top the one you’ve already given me.”
“OK, if you don’t want it, give it to the next shift. Just check out the needed-spots list a little later. Er, and you probably ought to sweep out the dishes before you do anything else.”
“Why? We’ve been missing cues?
“No, but the last time I did them was when I found Eddy.”
Mike turned slowly, a strange look on his face. “That’s odd.”
“Why?”
“I looked over at them as we pulled in. They were all clear.”
“You’re crazy.” Joe shook his head. “How can that be?”
Mike sat down at the console and pulled up the event log. “I don’t know. You can see for yourself when you go out.”
Joe looked around the Control Room, smiling at the Christmas lights, then saw that Eddy had pulled on his coat and mittens.
“Let’s go, Eddy. Time to go home.”
“Home good. Happy lady.”
“Yeah, that’s right. See you, Mike. Merry Christmas. Don’t forget to turn the volume on CUSTOS back up.”
“OK, Joe, thanks. Bye, Eddy, see you tonight.”
“Bye Mike.”
* * *
The sky was just starting to get light, though it was still overcast, and a fine snow was still falling. Joe looked up once again, and through a rift in the cloud cover a single bright star was shining. He lifted Eddy up to the cab of the snow plow, and Stan fastened a seatbelt around him. Then Joe climbed in.
Stan reached over and shook his hand. “Thanks, Joe. You made this a Christmas we’ll never forget.”
“Christmas good.” Eddy commented.
“I’ll say, Eddy!” His cousin punched him gently on the shoulder, and Eddy punched him back.
“Hey – nice wheels,” Joe said as Stan began to move the big machine.
“It’s a job. In the winter, I work a lot of nights.”
“That’s mostly all I ever work,” Joe replied. “Now, I’ve got to see these dishes...” He peered out of the window as Stan slowed the plow.
“What are they all for?”
“They pick up all the cable TV networks we work with here... How do you like that? Mike was right. They’re all clear.”
“Guess you were out a lot all night, keeping them clear, huh?”
“Not since around midnight...” Joe’s eyes widened. “I don’t understand.”
“What?”
“Not only is there no snowthe dishes, there’s no little piles of snow them. How the heck can that happen?”
“The wind, maybe? It sure has been cold.”
“Pretty strange wind. Saved us from missing our cues, and saved me from having to go out and leave, er, the room unguarded.” He looked over at Stan and winked.
As the plow turned out of the parking lot, Joe sat silently, thinking, then nodded. “Well, it sure was a nice Christmas gift.”
“Hmh,” grunted Eddy. “Christmas good.”
Stan reached over and shook his hand. “Thanks, Joe. You made this a Christmas we’ll never forget.”
“Christmas good.” Eddy commented.
“I’ll say, Eddy!” His cousin punched him gently on the shoulder, and Eddy punched him back.
“Hey – nice wheels,” Joe said as Stan began to move the big machine.
“It’s a job. In the winter, I work a lot of nights.”
“That’s mostly all I ever work,” Joe replied. “Now, I’ve got to see these dishes...” He peered out of the window as Stan slowed the plow.
“What are they all for?”
“They pick up all the cable TV networks we work with here... How do you like that? Mike was right. They’re all clear.”
“Guess you were out a lot all night, keeping them clear, huh?”
“Not since around midnight...” Joe’s eyes widened. “I don’t understand.”
“What?”
“Not only is there no snow
“The wind, maybe? It sure has been cold.”
“Pretty strange wind. Saved us from missing our cues, and saved me from having to go out and leave, er, the room unguarded.” He looked over at Stan and winked.
As the plow turned out of the parking lot, Joe sat silently, thinking, then nodded. “Well, it sure was a nice Christmas gift.”
“Hmh,” grunted Eddy. “Christmas good.”
All text and pictures copyright © 2008 by Dr. Thursday
