Roger had decided there was only one cause – it was the copier’s fault. Yes, the rickity, yet faithful, X-653 Bewter churned out duplicate after duplicate day after day without jamming, breaking down, or running out of toner. He had never questioned it before; he had assumed that someone else had taken care of the repairs, the filling of fluids, the maintenance of the beast. Or, that perhaps he had a certain lucky touch with the machine, after all, who questions when a thing is working?
But the Bewter wasn’t working. Not in the way Roger thought it should be.
He noticed something was odd when Kristen from the 22nd floor dropped off the contracts for the day. Not that dropping off contracts was out of the ordinary; Kristin must have been down to the basement at least three times a day this fall because of the new pipeline placement her company was spear-heading. Roger tried to understand exactly what the contracts were about as he made upwards of 50 copies of each but, frankly, he thought it too boring. There was the same old agreement, the same old safety issues, the same old signatures. No mention of salaries but Roger guessed it was a lot more than he would see this year. Not to mention that he worked in a windowless room. He smiled at his own pun and pressed the ominous green button again.
The Bewter’s intent was usage by people far less intelligent than Roger. The glowing green button actually read ‘COPY’ in bold, black letters which seemed to hover above the alien light. He had never seen a copier quite like it, or as big. The Bewter took up most of the closet-sized hole that Roger was designated to use, only leaving space enough for a coat rack and a small folding table where Roger ended up putting the finishing touches on Kristin’s contracts. At night, his co-worker Louise came in to sort the mail for Kristin’s company. He tried to leave early so he wouldn’t have to talk to her. Louise’s teeth were horribly crossed in front and she had a penchant for eating spinach salads which she left half finished on the small table for Roger to find in the morning. Once, he put the limp remains of the greens on the Bewter and copied them, determined to confront Louise about her filthy habits. By the end of the day, he couldn’t find the copy. Strange, he thought, I hope I did’t mistakely insert it into one of Kristen’s contracts. It was a stray thought that kept him awake at night for a week.
Roger glanced furtively at the Bewter. ‘COPY’ beckoned to him in a sing-songy chant; begging him to hit the button. Hit the button, Roger, and the hum and lull of the printing pages will numb your brain again. Roger found it hard to look away.
When he came to, he was standing over 50 more freshly bound copies of another one of Kristin’s contracts. He sucked in his breath sharply as he heard the faint ting! of the silver service bell he kept at the counter. It was Kristin back with another armload of contracts to duplicate. Kristin who wore the knee high boots, Kristin whose brown eyes seemed to hold all the answers to the mysteries of the universe, Kristin whose smile could be used for a toothpaste commercial, Kristin who smelled like a warm coconut lying on a tropical beach. Stray thoughts about Kristin often kept Roger awake at nights, in a much more pleasant way than thoughts of spinach.
Roger carried the bound contracts over to Kristin. He offered to carry them to her office for her but she always declined. He imagined her introducing him to all of her girlfriends that worked in cubicles around her whereupon all the girls would gather around him and delight over all the work he did for them. Perhaps they would pet his hair and coo compliments about his skill and precision with making their contracts. They would all be wearing knee high boots and short skirts just like Kristin but they would know that he was a one-woman man. Kristin would look at him adoringly as he asked her to the movies in front of all her friends and she would say…
“Roger, I need 44 more copies of this one. I know you just did it yesterday but the client misplaced them. Can you believe that?” Kristin said impatiently. She was looking the clock as she slammed the contract done on the counter to copy. “And how fast do you think it’ll be done?” she said, drumming her fingers on the cheap vinyl coating protecting the cheaper plywood underneath.
“I-i-I, sure! Fast, yup,” Roger stammered. “Later today, are you here later? I can stay later to get them done, I mean.” He took a quick look into her brown eyes but she was looking at her cuticles.
“No, but I’ll be here first thing in the morning,” she barked. “They need to be done.” She flashed him a phony smile. Her teeth were horribly crossed in the front and she had spinach packed in there so tightly Roger couldn’t tell if her teeth had ever been white.
After she left, he looked at the Bewter. The ‘COPY’ button light wavered for a moment and then began to pulse. Roger thought he knew where that missing page had wound up after all.
