Joe the Control Room Guy
in
The Call of WILD
(with apologies to Jack London)
in
The Call of WILD
(with apologies to Jack London)
The rain was pouring down about 19:45 one April evening – what the common man calls quarter of eight. The big satellite transmitting dish was lit by a flash of lightning as Joe pulled into the AC&TG parking lot. The thunder rolled across the sky and Joe yawned. It had been a lousy day for sleeping. The neighbors had gotten a new dog, and after they left for work, it had barked the whole day long. Or at least until sometime in the afternoon when the rain started. Then it must have gone under their porch and started whining. Joe had been on night shifts as a Control Room operator for a long time now, and usually he had no problem living on an upside-down schedule. But last night he had been busy the whole shift, and various problems that morning had kept him nearly an hour over. Then this rain on top of it – he had planned on meeting his girlfriend for a meal (her dinner, his breakfast) but when he called, she wasn’t interested – she hated to drive in the rain... Well, he thought as he got out of the car and ran to the back door, it was her loss. He had had a nice bowl of corn flakes. Dry.
He waved his ID badge and the door beeped. Completely drenched, he decided to get some coffee before he went into the Control Room.
Al looked up as Joe came into the Control Room, still dripping, with a steaming cup in his hand.
“Joe! Is it still raining?”
“Sure is, Al. What a lousy day.”
“Yeah. We’ve had sites fading in and out all afternoon, and I’ve had to tweak the power a couple times, but the worst seems to have gone past.”
“Good.” Joe sipped coffee. “How do we look for spots?”
“Maybe a dozen tapes. Not due until midnight, so you have some time.” Al stood up. “Hope you don’t mind if I take off, Karen called, and we’ve got a leak in our basement. What a mess.”
“Sorry to hear it. What happened?”
“Who knows. Bad drainage uphill from us, maybe. Or a downspout cracked, leaking somewhere. Probably can’t do anything about it now except mop up.” Al grabbed his jacket from the closet. “At least I learned not to store stuff on the basement floor when I was young, and we had a sewer pipe burst on Christmas Day...”
Joe shook his head. “Wow, talk about lousy days.”
“Nah,” Al said. “My father knew better than to store stuff down there, and we were going to his mom’s for dinner anyway. Besides,” he smiled, “my father is a plumber.”
Joe laughed as Al left, then finished his coffee. He kept a spare shirt in his locker, so he didn’t have to sit in the air conditioning all wet – no way he wanted to catch a cold now! Then another cup of coffee, and he would start the encoding.
* * *
After drying his hair the best he could with some paper towels, and changing to a dry shirt, Joe got a fresh cup of coffee and went back to the Control Room. He checked the weather map – most of the storm had passed. He checked over the monitors – a few headends under the worst of the storm had gone late on WATCHER, but he wouldn’t worry about them for a little. Everything else looked OK. He pushed the tape cart closer to an encoding station and sat down.
Encoding has got to be one of the most boring, mind-numbing tasks ever invented, Joe thought to himself as he put another tape back onto the “finished” shelf of the cart. Two or three or ten slightly different versions of the same inane actors mouthing nonsensical praises of a useless product – or some shady business – or another dozen glorifications of “preowned” vehicles... Not that he paid much attention to the content of the spots – just enough to be sure they didn’t contain something illicit. Of course things had to look real, and whatever they said had to be understandable. He had to check certain technical elements of the spot: the various video and audio levels had to be within acceptable limits, and it was critical that the length agreed with the slips supplied by Traffic. One of the most entertaining parts of the job was what some of the other guys called the “Pharmacist’s Challenge” – how to read the superlatively bad handwriting used by one of persons in Traffic. The only really critical part of the slip was the eight-digit spot id code – yet, this one guy never failed to write numerals in such a doubtful way that it was almost impossible to know what was intended. And tonight, the same guy must have written half the slips!
After struggling with some of the most boring spots he had seen in months (several of which he could have sworn were identical) Joe finally finished encoding the tapes for tomorrow. He got up and stretched. He checked the PUMP list; everything due tomorrow was now on the “To Be Sent” list. But before he tackled the chores, he had to get some more coffee.
As he came back into the Control Room with a fresh cup, the telephone rang.
“Control Room, Joe speaking.”
“Hey Joe. This is Fred. I’m out here at Wildwood. Can you dial in for me?”
“Sure, Fred.” Joe sat down and started connecting to the inserters for the headend they called WILD. “How’s the weather out there?”
“Cloudy, some drizzling here. Lousy driving most of the way; stay off the back roads when you go out – lots of local flooding.”
“I won’t be going out until morning, Fred; nothing to worry about.”
“Good, good. Got to check some networks, OK? And set audio levels.”
“OK, just connecting now.”
While Joe waited for the connection he asked, “Why are they doing this on such a stormy night?”
“Can’t be helped. They were working here today, changing equipment, and we were scheduled to do this when they got done.”
“Any lightning?”
“Not yet. Not a great place to be in during a storm, but that’s how it goes. Maybe it’ll hold off till we’re done.”
“OK, I’m in. What do you want done?”
“Great. Just give me a moment. OK, how about playing a test spot on ESPN?”
“Sure... Here goes... It’s playing...”
“OK... What’s the audio...” Fred’s voice was overwhelmed by the sound of barking.
“Fred, I can’t hear you. Is that a dog?”
Over the noise Joe barely made out Fred’s voice. “Yeah, it’s the headend tech’s dog. He had to bring it with him ‘cause of the storm. He has it tied up, but whenever it sees me, it starts barking.”
“Great,” Joe sighed. “ESPN is at –14db.”
“What? Quiet, you dog!”
“MINUS FOUR TEEN DEE BEE.”
“Did you say FORTY?”
“One. Four.”
“OK, sorry – Minus One Four Dee Bee. Understood.”
Joe heard Fred yelling at it, “Shut up, stupid mutt!” It did no good. Then Fred said, “Hey, Joe, set it to minus 8.6 – you got it?”
“Minus eight point six.”
“That’s right.”
“OK, now what?”
“Play that spot again.”
Joe typed a command. “It’s running.”
“Great, great. Looks good. Gimme a minute to switch networks....”
The dog continued to bark.
Encoding has got to be one of the most boring, mind-numbing tasks ever invented, Joe thought to himself as he put another tape back onto the “finished” shelf of the cart. Two or three or ten slightly different versions of the same inane actors mouthing nonsensical praises of a useless product – or some shady business – or another dozen glorifications of “preowned” vehicles... Not that he paid much attention to the content of the spots – just enough to be sure they didn’t contain something illicit. Of course things had to look real, and whatever they said had to be understandable. He had to check certain technical elements of the spot: the various video and audio levels had to be within acceptable limits, and it was critical that the length agreed with the slips supplied by Traffic. One of the most entertaining parts of the job was what some of the other guys called the “Pharmacist’s Challenge” – how to read the superlatively bad handwriting used by one of persons in Traffic. The only really critical part of the slip was the eight-digit spot id code – yet, this one guy never failed to write numerals in such a doubtful way that it was almost impossible to know what was intended. And tonight, the same guy must have written half the slips!
After struggling with some of the most boring spots he had seen in months (several of which he could have sworn were identical) Joe finally finished encoding the tapes for tomorrow. He got up and stretched. He checked the PUMP list; everything due tomorrow was now on the “To Be Sent” list. But before he tackled the chores, he had to get some more coffee.
As he came back into the Control Room with a fresh cup, the telephone rang.“Control Room, Joe speaking.”
“Hey Joe. This is Fred. I’m out here at Wildwood. Can you dial in for me?”
“Sure, Fred.” Joe sat down and started connecting to the inserters for the headend they called WILD. “How’s the weather out there?”
“Cloudy, some drizzling here. Lousy driving most of the way; stay off the back roads when you go out – lots of local flooding.”
“I won’t be going out until morning, Fred; nothing to worry about.”
“Good, good. Got to check some networks, OK? And set audio levels.”
“OK, just connecting now.”
While Joe waited for the connection he asked, “Why are they doing this on such a stormy night?”
“Can’t be helped. They were working here today, changing equipment, and we were scheduled to do this when they got done.”
“Any lightning?”
“Not yet. Not a great place to be in during a storm, but that’s how it goes. Maybe it’ll hold off till we’re done.”
“OK, I’m in. What do you want done?”
“Great. Just give me a moment. OK, how about playing a test spot on ESPN?”
“Sure... Here goes... It’s playing...”
“OK... What’s the audio...” Fred’s voice was overwhelmed by the sound of barking.
“Fred, I can’t hear you. Is that a dog?”
Over the noise Joe barely made out Fred’s voice. “Yeah, it’s the headend tech’s dog. He had to bring it with him ‘cause of the storm. He has it tied up, but whenever it sees me, it starts barking.”
“Great,” Joe sighed. “ESPN is at –14db.”
“What? Quiet, you dog!”
“MINUS FOUR TEEN DEE BEE.”
“Did you say FORTY?”
“One. Four.”
“OK, sorry – Minus One Four Dee Bee. Understood.”
Joe heard Fred yelling at it, “Shut up, stupid mutt!” It did no good. Then Fred said, “Hey, Joe, set it to minus 8.6 – you got it?”
“Minus eight point six.”
“That’s right.”
“OK, now what?”
“Play that spot again.”
Joe typed a command. “It’s running.”
“Great, great. Looks good. Gimme a minute to switch networks....”
The dog continued to bark.
* * *
Twenty-three agonizing networks later, Joe finally hung up and disconnected from WILD. His coffee was cold. The barking still seemed to echo in his head. He went out to the lunch room and dumped the cold coffee, grabbed a soda out of the machine, then went back into the Control Room. He swallowed some soda and picked up the clipboard for the chores checklist. He checked the transmitters and performed several other tasks in the computer room. He was almost done there when he thought he heard a dog barking. Now, the computer room is full of the whirr of fans cooling rack after rack of electronic equipment; there are also large air conditioning units adding their drone – and it was not easy for Joe to determine where the barking was coming from. He stuck his head back out into the Control Room: no, he hadn’t left the TV on, and out there he couldn’t hear any barking at all. He went back into the computer room, listening carefully at each rack of equipment. Then between two of the racks which contained equipment he never had to touch, the sound seemed louder. There in the far wall he saw a door.
Joe knew there were a couple of odd closets which only contained the air conditioning equipment – but he did not remember seeing this door before. He went up to it and saw a checklist formatted somewhat like the one on his clipboard. He glanced down at the one in his hand, then noticed that there was an item he had not initialed:
There was a brightly lit hallway which turned left, going towards the back of the building. As soon as he entered, he heard the barking grow louder. The hall made a right turn, and there he saw the cages, each holding a large, professionally toothed dog, barking its lungs out, saliva dripping down onto the concrete floor.
Joe liked dogs, but this was waaaay more dog than he could handle. He shook his head.
“How the heck am I supposed to take these monsters for a walk? And where do we walk? Back through the computer room and around the building? There’s got to be an exit around here...”
He went past the cages, each labeled with the name of its inhabitant, some barking and lunging against their doors, others showing teeth and growling in deep, sinister tones. After the last cage, there were two doors, each with a sensor panel beside it: clearly one or the other had to be an exit.
“There must be some password or something else – a whistle, maybe – to control them.” He looked back at the angry pack of canines, protected from being ground into fragments only by the wire cages. “What on earth am I supposed to do? Say a magic word – something like ‘Attention! PUMP is not running’?”
Instantly the dogs stopped barking, snapped once or twice, entered the “Sit” position, and looked at Joe intelligently, waiting for a command.
Joe looked down at the checklist. Underneath item 13 he read that exact phrase. “Figures. They keep telling us we’re supposed to read these chores before doing them. Learned my lesson.”
He went over to the first cage, labeled “Tiny”: it was a huge, ugly mastiff. It sniffed his hands, then whimpered a little and tried to lick his fingers, panting happily. “Your password is valid,” Joe laughed to himself.
He waved his badge over the first scanner and went out. He found himself outdoors behind the building, but inside the wire fence which surrounded their backup electrical generator. At first he didn’t see any dog. Then he heard a low growl.
“Attention, PUMP is not running!” Joe almost screamed the words. Then a large, beautiful German Shepherd came running up, sniffing Joe and trying to lick his hands. Joe glanced at the clipboard. “Rex, good boy, Rex. Nice dog.” It whined with pleasure. “Come on, let’s check your water...” In a sheltered corner there was a deep bowl of water and another, nearly empty, with dry dog food. “Stay,” he commanded. “Be right back.”
The dog immediately sat, looking at Joe longingly. Joe waved his badge and went back in. The dogs were silent this time; either they knew him now, or else the password was still good. He had not noticed when he entered, but just inside the door from the computer room, there were large bags of dogfood. Joe took a scoopful and went back out, then dumped it into Rex’s dish. “At ease,” he ordered, and Rex bounded over and began to eat. “I’m going to check your co-workers, then I’ll be right back.”
Rex gave a short bark of acknowledgement. No, Joe laughed, that didn’t really happen, did it? He went back inside and put food into the dishes of the other dogs. All their water dishes seemed full. He decided to check where the other door went before he did anything else, so he tried his badge, and went out the other door.
Again he was outdoors, in the back of the building, but this time he was outside the generator fence. Rex came quickly to the fence, beginning to growl, then (catching Joe’s scent, apparently) began to jump and whine with joy. “OK, I’ll be right there,” Joe told him.
He went back in, and went out into the generator area, and was almost knocked down by Rex’s eagerness. “Good dog.... OK, now you stay here and watch the generator, while I take the others out for a run. We’ll be back real soon.”
Joe went back inside; if that had been an acknowledging bark he decided to ignore it. He looked around at the cages – the other dogs were all alert, but definitely had a friendly appearance: Joe even heard a whine or two from the nearer dogs. “OK, time for a run, right?”
The pack began to whine. “Right, so let’s get your doors open, then...” Joe examined the nearest cage, and soon Jaws (a mongrel which had to be part bulldog) was sniffing at his shoes. In moments, the rest of the dogs were free, each pushing through to investigate Joe, then lining up by the cages. When they were all out, Joe waved his badge over the door to the outside. “Let’s go!”
Joe knew there were a couple of odd closets which only contained the air conditioning equipment – but he did not remember seeing this door before. He went up to it and saw a checklist formatted somewhat like the one on his clipboard. He glanced down at the one in his hand, then noticed that there was an item he had not initialed:
13. Check food and water for guard dogs, take off-duty dogs for run, at shift change, put next dog on guard.Joe shook his head. They didn’t have guard dogs here. What kind of a joke was this? He looked at the chart on the door. It was similar to the chart which showed the work schedule for the Control Room operators, but this one showed a rotating roster of dogs filling in eight hour shifts. Joe scratched his head. What the heck were they guarding? And since when did they have dogs, anyway? He had never done this chore before. Of course, he thought to himself, like everyone else there, he had never bothered to look at the chores which had already been initialed, but still, sooner or later it should have been his turn to do it – and he had never even seen the dogs! Joe liked dogs, too, (though he had not had one while he was growing up because his sisters were allergic) so he walked over to the door and opened it.
Done at: ________ by _______
Today’s schedule:
20:00 – 04:00 Rex (German Shepherd)
04:00 – 12:00 Tiny (Mastiff)
12:00 – 20:00 Fang (Doberman)
Note: Daisy, Meat, Spot, Lucky, Fluffy, Jaws, and Worm have off today.
There was a brightly lit hallway which turned left, going towards the back of the building. As soon as he entered, he heard the barking grow louder. The hall made a right turn, and there he saw the cages, each holding a large, professionally toothed dog, barking its lungs out, saliva dripping down onto the concrete floor.
Joe liked dogs, but this was waaaay more dog than he could handle. He shook his head.
“How the heck am I supposed to take these monsters for a walk? And where do we walk? Back through the computer room and around the building? There’s got to be an exit around here...”
He went past the cages, each labeled with the name of its inhabitant, some barking and lunging against their doors, others showing teeth and growling in deep, sinister tones. After the last cage, there were two doors, each with a sensor panel beside it: clearly one or the other had to be an exit.
“There must be some password or something else – a whistle, maybe – to control them.” He looked back at the angry pack of canines, protected from being ground into fragments only by the wire cages. “What on earth am I supposed to do? Say a magic word – something like ‘Attention! PUMP is not running’?”
Instantly the dogs stopped barking, snapped once or twice, entered the “Sit” position, and looked at Joe intelligently, waiting for a command.
Joe looked down at the checklist. Underneath item 13 he read that exact phrase. “Figures. They keep telling us we’re supposed to read these chores before doing them. Learned my lesson.”
He went over to the first cage, labeled “Tiny”: it was a huge, ugly mastiff. It sniffed his hands, then whimpered a little and tried to lick his fingers, panting happily. “Your password is valid,” Joe laughed to himself.
He waved his badge over the first scanner and went out. He found himself outdoors behind the building, but inside the wire fence which surrounded their backup electrical generator. At first he didn’t see any dog. Then he heard a low growl.
“Attention, PUMP is not running!” Joe almost screamed the words. Then a large, beautiful German Shepherd came running up, sniffing Joe and trying to lick his hands. Joe glanced at the clipboard. “Rex, good boy, Rex. Nice dog.” It whined with pleasure. “Come on, let’s check your water...” In a sheltered corner there was a deep bowl of water and another, nearly empty, with dry dog food. “Stay,” he commanded. “Be right back.”
The dog immediately sat, looking at Joe longingly. Joe waved his badge and went back in. The dogs were silent this time; either they knew him now, or else the password was still good. He had not noticed when he entered, but just inside the door from the computer room, there were large bags of dogfood. Joe took a scoopful and went back out, then dumped it into Rex’s dish. “At ease,” he ordered, and Rex bounded over and began to eat. “I’m going to check your co-workers, then I’ll be right back.”
Rex gave a short bark of acknowledgement. No, Joe laughed, that didn’t really happen, did it? He went back inside and put food into the dishes of the other dogs. All their water dishes seemed full. He decided to check where the other door went before he did anything else, so he tried his badge, and went out the other door.
Again he was outdoors, in the back of the building, but this time he was outside the generator fence. Rex came quickly to the fence, beginning to growl, then (catching Joe’s scent, apparently) began to jump and whine with joy. “OK, I’ll be right there,” Joe told him.He went back in, and went out into the generator area, and was almost knocked down by Rex’s eagerness. “Good dog.... OK, now you stay here and watch the generator, while I take the others out for a run. We’ll be back real soon.”
Joe went back inside; if that had been an acknowledging bark he decided to ignore it. He looked around at the cages – the other dogs were all alert, but definitely had a friendly appearance: Joe even heard a whine or two from the nearer dogs. “OK, time for a run, right?”
The pack began to whine. “Right, so let’s get your doors open, then...” Joe examined the nearest cage, and soon Jaws (a mongrel which had to be part bulldog) was sniffing at his shoes. In moments, the rest of the dogs were free, each pushing through to investigate Joe, then lining up by the cages. When they were all out, Joe waved his badge over the door to the outside. “Let’s go!”
* * *
The pack ran out the door. Joe following then as best he could. Most of them soon went around the western corner of the building, but fortunately Jaws and Tiny were somewhat slower, so he was able to see them once he got to the corner. Soon they had completed a lap around the building and returned to the generator cage. The dogs went on in the same path, but Joe stopped there and caught his breath. Soon the pack again came around the eastern corner; again they did not stop. After the third time, they stopped by the cage, milling around and sniffing at Joe, the cage, and the door. Inside the generator fence, Rex seemed to be ignoring all this activity, but sat silently watching.
“Three laps, huh?” Joe told them. “Good dogs.” He scratched a couple of the closest ones. The pack whined, trying to get to him. “Let’s go back in and get a drink, OK?” He waved his badge over the scanner.
The dogs followed him in, each going to his own cage and lapping water furiously. In a corner, Joe found a water spigot and a bucket, which he filled and then replenished their water bowls.
Soon they were all around him again, whining.
“Another run? OK...” Back they went outside. This time, Joe decided to run with them. Perhaps they were getting tired, as this time he was able to keep up with the slower dogs as they ran around the building. Again the dogs had stopped by the generator cage, looking eagerly at Joe, tongues hanging out and panting.
“Whew!” Joe panted. “Well, I’ve got to get back in there and...”
Just then the ears of several dogs popped up. Heads began to turn, and Joe heard a low growling. He looked over big transmitting dish, and thought he saw a small shadow moving under one of the bushes behind the fence – he couldn’t tell if it was a raccoon or a cat. Before he could open his mouth, the dogs began to run towards it, barking loudly.
“No!” Joe yelled. “Come back!” He ran after them, but the dogs had now gone up into the shrubbery on the low hill behind the big transmitting dish. As he got to the other side of the parking lot, he could hear them barking, and leaves rustling as they searched for the fleeing creature.
Halfway into the underbrush, Joe stopped and looked around. He couldn’t see any dogs. How was he supposed to get them back into their cages? All those trained guard dogs. They were probably expensive, too – like everything else the company owned – so he would almost certainly get into deep trouble if he lost them all. At least Rex was still back there in the generator cage. Then he realized: if they were trained, they ought to come at order. At least he could try it...
“Come here! Tiny! Fang! Daisy! Meat! Fluffy! Jaws! Worm! Come!” He waited. The barking had quieted, but the dogs were not coming. Soon the dark hillside behind the big dish was quiet. Not even a leaf rustled.
“Great. Just great,” Joe said, as he made his way down the hill. “What now? Should I get Rex – maybe there’s a leash in there somewhere – and track them down? Or maybe they’ll come back when they get hungry. Unless they eat that cat, or whatever it was... then they won’t be back for while.” He walked across the parking lot. By the generator Rex sat silently peering into the darkness. As Joe approached, he whined a little and walked over towards Joe, tail wagging. Joe stuck his fingers through the fence, and Rex licked them.
“So, Rex, ready to go hunting?” Joe shook his head. “I probably ought to go back inside and check things. At least I had the cell phone with me.” Rex sat back and looked up at Joe with a pleased doggy grin. “Man, I hope that wasn’t a skunk they were chasing. They come back skunked, and they’ll smell up the whole building... that might be even worse than losing them. Yeah – I think it would be worse...
Joe looked toward the big dish, then he saw two shadows coming down the open part of the hill just behind it. It looked like it might be Tiny and Jaws, the two slow ones. “Tiny! Jaws!” Joe called.
The two dogs ambled across the lot and came to Joe, tails between their legs. “Bad dogs! No treat tonight. Back to your cages.” He turned and opened the door.
The two dogs went directly to their cages and lay down, head between front paws. Joe closed and latched the doors, then went back out. Rex had gone back to his guard post, but glanced over at Joe, then turned back, looking up the hill.
“Wheee” Joe whistled. “Daisy! Meat! Fluffy! Worm!” he called. “What the heck are those other names?” he murmured to himself. “What kind of idiot named these monsters, anyway?” Well, then again, he thought, that kind of silliness was par for the course: the company did have some rather ridiculous names for things, and not just for dogs. “Hey! Dogs! Get back here!”
At least, he thought, pacing in front of the generator, two had come back, and hadn’t been skunked. Maybe he’d be lucky... Aha, that was a name he had missed: “Lucky! Hey, get back here! Fluffy, Worm, Daisy, Meat...”
Soon he saw some more shadows moving down the hill. Again the big brute dogs came slinking across the parking lot. Joe nodded grimly. They were wrong, and they knew it. “Bad dogs. Get back in your cages.” He opened the door. Four dogs slunk quietly inside, each to its own cage.
Joe went in and latched the cage doors. “I hope you’re all mighty proud of yourselves, you big hulking brutes, defending AC&TG against a helpless kitten...”
The dogs whimpered, each curled up in a corner. Joe shook his head. “Who’s still missing?” He went down the aisle, checking off the names. “Rex is still on duty; he’s a good dog. Then we have Tiny and Jaws, Daisy and Meat, Fluffy and Worm. So Fang, Spot and Lucky are still AWOL.”
Joe went back outside. There, just in front of the door, were two more dogs, flat on the ground. They whimpered as Joe stared down at them. “Bad dogs! Chasing cats. Get in there!”
The two dogs trotted to their cages. Joe locked them in, shaking his head. “Lucky, huh? Not very lucky tonight. Fang, too. What a bunch of wimp dogs, going after a kitten.” Joe didn’t really know what it had been, but it was good enough for the state he was in. “Go after criminals, why don’t you? There sure are enough, if you know where to hunt for ’em...” One or two whimpered a little; they knew they had been way out of bounds. Then the room was silent. Still, he thought, sniffing the air, at least none of them had been skunked.
Joe went back along the cages. “So. Who’s still out? Spot. Of course.” He rolled his eyes. That’s all I need, he thought to himself, to have someone hear me calling “Spot! Here, Spot” near AC&TG...
But it would be even worse, if that was the only one he lost! He’d feel lower than these dogs if the other guys found out that Spot was missing – they would never let him hear the end of it: “Hey Joe, why didn't you check the PUMP list for that ‘missing Spot’? Ha ha ha!” It would have been funny, too, but this was serious, losing an expensive, specially trained guard dog. (After all, the dog hadn’t opened the door; he had. Joe could not deny it.) He looked around the room, hoping for an idea. In the corner where he had found the scoop he saw a heavy-duty flashlight, and a leash. Well, he’d just have to go out and hunt for his missing Spot.
“Good boy, Rex; at least I can depend on you,” Joe said, and headed across the parking lot. Rex whined a little, then Joe went up into the brush on the hill.
Joe pushed through the low bushes and weeds, shining his lantern into the overgrowth. “Spot! Spot!” he called hoarsely. [I know, that word sounds funny here, but what else can I do?] He could not bring himself to use full volume, even though there was almost no chance of someone hearing him. He stopped, listening. Somewhere off to his left he thought he heard a whining. He hoped Spot hadn’t gone out of the corporate park: the wooded part wasn’t all that big. On the other side of the road which bounded the park there were some private homes – things could get complicated if Spot was over there.
Joe went down a small depression and up the other side. He paused again and listened. Now he heard some leaves rustling. “Spot!” he called in a clear, low voice. The whimper came again, louder, and another rustle. He swung the beam around. There, under a fallen branch, cringed the missing dog. It started whining when the beam hit it. “Spot!” Joe said. Then he heard the rustle again, but it definitely wasn’t from the dog’s direction.
“Spot! What is it boy?” Joe scanned with the flashlight, then stopped, appalled. Something dodged into the shadows. Oh, no! Joe thought. Was that a skunk, or just a black and white cat? He sniffed; no bombardment yet. He reached down, grabbed Spot’s collar, dragged him from under the branch, then hurried back down the hill towards the company building, wondering whether the worst was yet to come...
They made it to the parking lot, and nothing seemed to be following them. Joe sighed with relief, sniffing again. Not skunked yet! Rex had come towards them as they crossed the lot, but then went off to a back corner behind the generator. Spot started to whimper as they came to the back door.
Joe brought Spot inside, and locked his cage. Then he sniffed again. There was a, er, a certain aroma rising from Spot’s cage. Then, suddenly, all the dogs started barking, and he heard a distant voice say “Bad dog!”
“Three laps, huh?” Joe told them. “Good dogs.” He scratched a couple of the closest ones. The pack whined, trying to get to him. “Let’s go back in and get a drink, OK?” He waved his badge over the scanner.
The dogs followed him in, each going to his own cage and lapping water furiously. In a corner, Joe found a water spigot and a bucket, which he filled and then replenished their water bowls.
Soon they were all around him again, whining.
“Another run? OK...” Back they went outside. This time, Joe decided to run with them. Perhaps they were getting tired, as this time he was able to keep up with the slower dogs as they ran around the building. Again the dogs had stopped by the generator cage, looking eagerly at Joe, tongues hanging out and panting.
“Whew!” Joe panted. “Well, I’ve got to get back in there and...”
Just then the ears of several dogs popped up. Heads began to turn, and Joe heard a low growling. He looked over big transmitting dish, and thought he saw a small shadow moving under one of the bushes behind the fence – he couldn’t tell if it was a raccoon or a cat. Before he could open his mouth, the dogs began to run towards it, barking loudly.
“No!” Joe yelled. “Come back!” He ran after them, but the dogs had now gone up into the shrubbery on the low hill behind the big transmitting dish. As he got to the other side of the parking lot, he could hear them barking, and leaves rustling as they searched for the fleeing creature.
Halfway into the underbrush, Joe stopped and looked around. He couldn’t see any dogs. How was he supposed to get them back into their cages? All those trained guard dogs. They were probably expensive, too – like everything else the company owned – so he would almost certainly get into deep trouble if he lost them all. At least Rex was still back there in the generator cage. Then he realized: if they were trained, they ought to come at order. At least he could try it...
“Come here! Tiny! Fang! Daisy! Meat! Fluffy! Jaws! Worm! Come!” He waited. The barking had quieted, but the dogs were not coming. Soon the dark hillside behind the big dish was quiet. Not even a leaf rustled.
“Great. Just great,” Joe said, as he made his way down the hill. “What now? Should I get Rex – maybe there’s a leash in there somewhere – and track them down? Or maybe they’ll come back when they get hungry. Unless they eat that cat, or whatever it was... then they won’t be back for while.” He walked across the parking lot. By the generator Rex sat silently peering into the darkness. As Joe approached, he whined a little and walked over towards Joe, tail wagging. Joe stuck his fingers through the fence, and Rex licked them.
“So, Rex, ready to go hunting?” Joe shook his head. “I probably ought to go back inside and check things. At least I had the cell phone with me.” Rex sat back and looked up at Joe with a pleased doggy grin. “Man, I hope that wasn’t a skunk they were chasing. They come back skunked, and they’ll smell up the whole building... that might be even worse than losing them. Yeah – I think it would be worse...
Joe looked toward the big dish, then he saw two shadows coming down the open part of the hill just behind it. It looked like it might be Tiny and Jaws, the two slow ones. “Tiny! Jaws!” Joe called.
The two dogs ambled across the lot and came to Joe, tails between their legs. “Bad dogs! No treat tonight. Back to your cages.” He turned and opened the door.
The two dogs went directly to their cages and lay down, head between front paws. Joe closed and latched the doors, then went back out. Rex had gone back to his guard post, but glanced over at Joe, then turned back, looking up the hill.
“Wheee” Joe whistled. “Daisy! Meat! Fluffy! Worm!” he called. “What the heck are those other names?” he murmured to himself. “What kind of idiot named these monsters, anyway?” Well, then again, he thought, that kind of silliness was par for the course: the company did have some rather ridiculous names for things, and not just for dogs. “Hey! Dogs! Get back here!”
At least, he thought, pacing in front of the generator, two had come back, and hadn’t been skunked. Maybe he’d be lucky... Aha, that was a name he had missed: “Lucky! Hey, get back here! Fluffy, Worm, Daisy, Meat...”
Soon he saw some more shadows moving down the hill. Again the big brute dogs came slinking across the parking lot. Joe nodded grimly. They were wrong, and they knew it. “Bad dogs. Get back in your cages.” He opened the door. Four dogs slunk quietly inside, each to its own cage.
Joe went in and latched the cage doors. “I hope you’re all mighty proud of yourselves, you big hulking brutes, defending AC&TG against a helpless kitten...”
The dogs whimpered, each curled up in a corner. Joe shook his head. “Who’s still missing?” He went down the aisle, checking off the names. “Rex is still on duty; he’s a good dog. Then we have Tiny and Jaws, Daisy and Meat, Fluffy and Worm. So Fang, Spot and Lucky are still AWOL.”
Joe went back outside. There, just in front of the door, were two more dogs, flat on the ground. They whimpered as Joe stared down at them. “Bad dogs! Chasing cats. Get in there!”
The two dogs trotted to their cages. Joe locked them in, shaking his head. “Lucky, huh? Not very lucky tonight. Fang, too. What a bunch of wimp dogs, going after a kitten.” Joe didn’t really know what it had been, but it was good enough for the state he was in. “Go after criminals, why don’t you? There sure are enough, if you know where to hunt for ’em...” One or two whimpered a little; they knew they had been way out of bounds. Then the room was silent. Still, he thought, sniffing the air, at least none of them had been skunked.
Joe went back along the cages. “So. Who’s still out? Spot. Of course.” He rolled his eyes. That’s all I need, he thought to himself, to have someone hear me calling “Spot! Here, Spot” near AC&TG...
But it would be even worse, if that was the only one he lost! He’d feel lower than these dogs if the other guys found out that Spot was missing – they would never let him hear the end of it: “Hey Joe, why didn't you check the PUMP list for that ‘missing Spot’? Ha ha ha!” It would have been funny, too, but this was serious, losing an expensive, specially trained guard dog. (After all, the dog hadn’t opened the door; he had. Joe could not deny it.) He looked around the room, hoping for an idea. In the corner where he had found the scoop he saw a heavy-duty flashlight, and a leash. Well, he’d just have to go out and hunt for his missing Spot.
“Good boy, Rex; at least I can depend on you,” Joe said, and headed across the parking lot. Rex whined a little, then Joe went up into the brush on the hill.
Joe pushed through the low bushes and weeds, shining his lantern into the overgrowth. “Spot! Spot!” he called hoarsely. [I know, that word sounds funny here, but what else can I do?] He could not bring himself to use full volume, even though there was almost no chance of someone hearing him. He stopped, listening. Somewhere off to his left he thought he heard a whining. He hoped Spot hadn’t gone out of the corporate park: the wooded part wasn’t all that big. On the other side of the road which bounded the park there were some private homes – things could get complicated if Spot was over there.
Joe went down a small depression and up the other side. He paused again and listened. Now he heard some leaves rustling. “Spot!” he called in a clear, low voice. The whimper came again, louder, and another rustle. He swung the beam around. There, under a fallen branch, cringed the missing dog. It started whining when the beam hit it. “Spot!” Joe said. Then he heard the rustle again, but it definitely wasn’t from the dog’s direction.
“Spot! What is it boy?” Joe scanned with the flashlight, then stopped, appalled. Something dodged into the shadows. Oh, no! Joe thought. Was that a skunk, or just a black and white cat? He sniffed; no bombardment yet. He reached down, grabbed Spot’s collar, dragged him from under the branch, then hurried back down the hill towards the company building, wondering whether the worst was yet to come...They made it to the parking lot, and nothing seemed to be following them. Joe sighed with relief, sniffing again. Not skunked yet! Rex had come towards them as they crossed the lot, but then went off to a back corner behind the generator. Spot started to whimper as they came to the back door.
Joe brought Spot inside, and locked his cage. Then he sniffed again. There was a, er, a certain aroma rising from Spot’s cage. Then, suddenly, all the dogs started barking, and he heard a distant voice say “Bad dog!”
* * *
“Bad dog!” came the voice. Joe raised his head and sniffed. Where was he? What was that awful smell? He sat up and stretched. He had fallen asleep again at the console in the Control Room. He sniffed again. What on earth smelled so skunky? Then he looked down at the console. He must have had his face against one of those old foam-rubber mouse pads... He picked it up. Yep. That’s what it was. He tossed it into the trash; they had plenty of new ones that didn’t stink. He shook his head, then checked the time. Wasn’t he doing the checklist – and then there were those dogs... He looked around for the clipboard: it was on the floor by his chair. He picked it up, and everything was up to date. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few minutes. He rolled the chair over to the event log. Sure, he had recorded the work at WILD, and he had disconnected from the headend. So it must have been just after he had finished the chores.
Then the voice came again: “Bad dog.”
Joe looked up at the big screens. “DENNY” the Denver monitor was flashing red. He checked the satellite-transport monitor and saw that Denver had lost its connection to HOME... Probably just the weather, but he would just dial in and check... Meanwhile he could stop that “bad dog” warning. He was soon connected and looking into the situation. Everything looked OK on the machine, so he checked the weather map. It turned out that Denver was having a late spring snowstorm, which had knocked out the connection – once the sun came up it would return to normal – so Joe disconnected and logged the event.
Then the voice came again: “Bad dog.”
Joe looked up at the big screens. “DENNY” the Denver monitor was flashing red. He checked the satellite-transport monitor and saw that Denver had lost its connection to HOME... Probably just the weather, but he would just dial in and check... Meanwhile he could stop that “bad dog” warning. He was soon connected and looking into the situation. Everything looked OK on the machine, so he checked the weather map. It turned out that Denver was having a late spring snowstorm, which had knocked out the connection – once the sun came up it would return to normal – so Joe disconnected and logged the event.
* * *
A few minutes later Joe came back into the Control Room with a fresh cup of coffee and some food from the machines in the lunchroom. But before he sat down to enjoy his snack, he went back into the computer room and walked slowly along the racks, looking at the walls on both sides. No, there really wasn’t a door there – not in either wall. He went to the back door to check outside, but the rain was still pouring down. That was sufficient for him – it hadn’t been raining when he was out running with the dogs – and the underbrush hadn’t been wet.
After he finished his snack, Joe got up and went back to the encoding station to start on the next day’s tapes. He laughed to himself, thinking back to that poor skunked dog in its cage – he was sure he would have done what he could, if it hadn’t been a dream, if he hadn’t woken up. After all, in this business, he told himself, we have to deal with an awful lot of stinky spots. He put a tape into the encoder and cued it up, chuckling to himself.
THE END
After he finished his snack, Joe got up and went back to the encoding station to start on the next day’s tapes. He laughed to himself, thinking back to that poor skunked dog in its cage – he was sure he would have done what he could, if it hadn’t been a dream, if he hadn’t woken up. After all, in this business, he told himself, we have to deal with an awful lot of stinky spots. He put a tape into the encoder and cued it up, chuckling to himself.
THE END
All text and pictures copyright © 2008 by Dr. Thursday
No comments:
Post a Comment