The 33rd Try

Tired of IT persons who think every problem is "operator error?" Things could be much, much, MUCH worse.

The first sound was a clang, a harsh metal-on-metal collision. That was disappointing. The second sound was an unsteady clicking, like a wind-up toy slowing down. That was worrisome. The last sound was a pop, a final snap, like a rubber band breaking. That’s when I stopped listening and considered crying. I had failed. Again. And it might be my last chance. I sighed as I switched off the machine, my invention, my one shot at greatness.

After I reported my most recent failure to the boss he leaned back in his chair and lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “How many times is it now?”

“Thirty-two.”

“And how much time have you devoted to the machine?”

“Two years, sir.”

The boss, a large imposing man with wildly overgrown bramble bush eyebrows and a frown that could freeze your heart, returned his gaze to me. “Hmmm,” he said at last. And then again, “Hmmm”. He seemed to be thinking intently, something that I suspect was painful for him. Then he slowly stood. He walked around his desk and leaned down over me. I fought to control the trembling that had begun in my body.  “I’ve always been rather fond of the number 33,” he said. “I’ll give you one more chance. And this time try it with a person inside.”

“A person? Really?”

“Sure. Use Wickwire from the I.T. department. No one will miss her if something goes wrong. And besides, she’s always behind in her work. Maybe if we had two of her they’d be worth the one salary I pay her.”

And so it was that I got a final chance to perfect the Omega V1 Super Induction Replicator.  Without getting into the complicated minutiae of how it works, I’ll just tell you what it does. It takes what you put in it and makes an exact copy, every molecule is absolutely identical. In my trial with a miniature version I had successfully copied many things  -  paper clips, erasers, a hot cup of coffee, a book of matches. It had worked fine, but the full-size version was stubborn. Thirty-two times I had thought it was ready. Thirty-two times I was wrong. Would the thirty-third attempt succeed?

I went back to the schematic and reconsidered every design decision I had made. I then completely disassembled the replicator. I carefully examined each piece. I replaced some things, reconditioned others, and greatly increased the power of still others. After a month of work, worry, and second guessing myself I was ready for one last test. All I had left to do was convince Emma Wickwire.

When someone had to call Emma for technical support she would grumble her way down the hall and, after examining the computer for several minutes, she would invariably bark, “Operator error.” As a result people avoided calling her and she was able to spend the majority of her time napping, playing computer games, or reading with her feet up on her desk. Why the boss tolerated her, I don’t know.  There were rumors that she had found some files in his computer that would be professionally very embarrassing. Indeed, Emma did go about her barking and grumbling with an air of haughty invulnerability, so perhaps the rumors were true.

It is the custom in our company to keep your office door open. Emma’s door, however, was always closed and there was a hand-written sign taped to it: “Knock once and only once. If I don’t answer I’m not here.” I knocked " once " and waited. A moment later I heard a muffled shout. “Can’t it wait? I’m busy!”

“I’m afraid not,” I called out. “Besides, I think this is something you’ll want to hear.”

The door opened a crack and Emma poked her nose out. “Well, if it isn’t the professor. Looking for Gilligan?”

I ignored her joke. “I have an opportunity for you I really don’t think you’ll want to pass up.”

The door opened wider. “What opportunity?”

“When someone is the first to do something " something historic " their names are remembered forever. Would you like to be remembered forever?”

The door opened still wider. “I’m listening.”

“All you have to do is come with me to my lab, and stand in the replicator for a few minutes. It’s easy.”

“Replicator?  That machine you’ve been working on for years? You haven’t junked that thing yet?”

“It’s been perfected. And I’m offering you the opportunity to be a part of history.”

“History, huh?” she said somewhat disdainfully. “Well, I guess I can spare five minutes. After all, what can go wrong?”

I decided not to answer that question. I stepped back from the door, gestured toward the lab and said, “If you’re not interested I can always get Katie the receptionist.”  Emma curled her lip in disgust, closed her office door, and we walked to the lab.

I opened the replicator door and Emma stepped in. She looked all around. “Doesn’t look like much,” she said. “Let’s get this show on the road so I can get back to my office.”

“Of course.” I closed the door, turned it on, and watched the dials as it warmed up. When it reached full power I flipped the switch. The replicator hummed softly. No clang this time. No clicking. No pop. It vibrated slightly and suddenly there she was: an exact duplicate of Emma Wickwire, standing just outside the machine. “How’d I get out here?” she asked.

“You’re here. But you’re also still inside.”

She turned toward the replicator. “Wow,” she said, looking at herself in the machine, looking back at her. “I guess it worked, huh?”

Then it happened. Another vibration. And a third Emma Wickwire. And a second later a fourth. Then a fifth, and a sixth. This wasn’t right. I reached out and turned it off. But it didn’t stop. The room was rapidly filling up with Emma Wickwires. I banged on the replicator. I kicked it. Still more Emma Wickwires. Then two of them grabbed me and dragged me out of the lab. “Get the hell out of here!” one of them hissed.

I ran to the boss’s office. I ignored the receptionist and threw open his door. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

“There’s a bit of a problem,” I answered.

“It didn’t work?”

“No, it worked. It worked too well. I can’t get it to stop making duplicates of Emma Wickwire.”

We both raced down the hall to the lab. The door was open and there were at least forty Emma Wickwires in the hall.

“Oh, my god!” said the boss. “What the hell have you done?”

It was a very good question. The FBI asked it again when they arrested me. I was questioned by scientists and government authorities. They demanded to know how to stop it. I explained how the machine worked and offered ideas on how to turn it off. They tried them all, but it kept on humming and vibrating and spitting out Wickwires. Nothing, it seemed, could stop it. This went on for days, weeks, months. My replicator produced a literal army of Emma Wickwires. Then a large group of them attacked the National Guard armory. They emptied it of weapons and ammunition.

Most of the non-Wickwire citizens, fearful for their lives, soon left the city. I was taken to Washington and locked in a cell.  Occasionally, guards will talk to me about what’s going on outside. The boss was captured and executed by the Emma Wickwires.  Soon, the entire state was taken over by them. There is talk of the state formally seceding from the union and starting its own country, the Republic of Wickwire. The President is considering what he calls “the ultimate response.” The joint chiefs of staff are preparing a plan for the destruction of the Wickwires and my machine. Nuclear weapons and poison gas are both being considered.

The Omega V1 Super Induction Replicator. It was supposed to make me famous, and it did. I am now the most hated man in America. I will soon be taken to a super prison they’re building just for me. It seems they’re afraid the Russians will kidnap me and force me to make another replicator. Middle Eastern terrorists, North Korea and the Mafia are also said to be plotting to break me out.

All I wanted to do was invent a special little machine that could help mankind. Instead, I have changed the world, and perhaps started it on a path to destruction. Every night when I go to bed I pray that I will wake up and discover that it has all been a terrible dream, and that a vast army of cranky I.T. support staff members has not been unleashed on the world. If you don’t mind, I’m going to lie down now and go to sleep. Maybe this time it will all turn out to be a dream. Maybe this time.     

                                    © 2016 Stanley R. Teater

                             All rights reserved

Reviews

[Steve]

I laughed a lot at those last few paragraphs.

"It was a very good question. The FBI asked it again when they arrested me." - This is a very cool redirect of the story that starts scaling the stakes from a corporate mistake to international dilemma - and funny!

[Valentine]

Hope it all was a dream. Remaking a useless secretary that was always behind in her work. Need to try again with an Einstein ..Funny write. Valentine

[Bex]

Love that Wickwire is so vile!

[Daniel Seward]

Hilarious. I laughed when I read the replicator was making countless Wickwires. What a predicament. I also liked how the story moved along. You have a strong voice.
Keep writing,
Dan

[Stanley R. Teater]

Thanks very much.