May I Borrow Your Pen?

 “I’m sorry.”

Michael had a very busy morning and was looking forward to the break. Always on the Monday with the big orders, and he did not want any of the new people handing the transactions, especially some of the new faces that he saw down in the warehouse. Didn’t anyone in human resources care as much about the vetting process as he did? They could laugh all they wanted to – blue collar bums, he called them – but one day this was seriously going to backfire on us and then...

“I’m sorry.”

At least he had time to get out of that grey hangar, work his way through the shipments and orders departments, and see that the weather had turned. All of the main buildings were connected, so there was no reason to really step outside. Even the mall had a passage that would bring potential customers to the office if there was business conduct. Michael was glad that he had the chance to suggest this when the move took place. Over five years and a lot of man hours of labour later and here he was, able to cross over in the sunlight of the glassed-in passage and take a side exit into the planned park. A few people saw him and decided to step back inside, but he did not take it personally. In fact, he was quite glad that then knew who he was; they knew who was paying their salary. He smiled and stared up at the partly cloudy haze.

“I’m sorry.”

It was almost noon when he decided to head to the food court. Maria would be waiting with two of her new co-workers and he wanted to surprise her with lunch. She always went to the same place when starting at a new position, and he made sure that he bought her the right meal for this special day. He kept looking at his watch. It was almost noon; no worries. He had other things to worry about besides keeping an appointment.

There were other things on his mind, so he could be forgiven for ignoring it.

He really did not notice the voice that seemed to follow him.

“Excuse me?”

It was an old man standing by a mailbox. The mall had it positioned by the elevators to the main offices and penthouse suites. He looked rather sharp in a full suit and fedora on a regular weekday. The beard was full greyness, which gave him his own aura. Was he from the executive branch?

“Yes?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a pen on you, would you?”

Michael had a slight tremor at this, but made a quick judgement on what was happening and smiled.

“Oh...wait a moment. Let me see.”

The man stepped a little closer and seemed to be full of nervous energy.

“Sorry about this. I just realized that I brought this envelope down here without including a postal code and my full address.”

He handed the old man one of the pens he always carried for work. “That’s all right. Here...”

The man looked at it, stared back at the young man in front of him, and smiled. “This is... impressive.”

Again, that old tremor, this time down his back.

“Part of my work. I sell all sorts of stationery and keep samples for displays.”

“Very nice. And are people still using stationery? Paper and the like?”

He was actually pleased that he could talk about this. The old man was still of a generation that would not trust a computer.

“Well, yes, sir. Some people are now fed up with just saving their thoughts on a computer or some drive that they cannot hold and handle...”

“Drive?”

He guessed correctly. “Yes, computer drive. A place where you can save your ideas and work.”

“Oh, I see. I just never...”

He was searching for his words.

“They want their memories?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Hmm…” The old man put the letter in the mailbox. “Thank you, son.”

“No problem, sir.”

“No, not about that. Something else...”

“What...else?” Still could not shake that feeling (it returned and settled in his chest).

“For making my decision easy for me. We need more than just a screen.”

He smiled, tipped his hat, and slowly walked down the hallway to one of the exits. The old man, he thought, was going to be one of those stories that he knew he would be sharing with colleagues and friends for the rest of the day. There was just something about him…

It was only when the elevator beeped and Maria stepped out of it that he noticed that his pen was missing. She saw him digging through his pockets and smiling with a slight grin.

“Oh! You caught me!”

”Yeah,” he said, looking down the hallway. “Just an accident, really. Old guy wanted to write out something on his envelope before sending it in the box and he took my pen.”

“The box?” She looked very confused.

“The mailbox , right…” He looked at the slot. The mailbox was a simple slot in between the two separate elevators. In the clear glass of the chute, he could see the old man’s letter stuck inside. Quite clearly, he could see the man’s handwriting. He felt a little ill when he stared at the words:

GUTENBERG 1234!

NICE!

Maria saw the look on his face, but she really did not understand his horror. The Gutenberg 1234 was a new model of pen that was made to last for at least a decade and would not need to be refilled for at least half of that time. Naturally, it was one of the most expensive models he would ever sell and it was necessary for him to bring it back with him to the office today.

And, of course, that was the only prototype.

“Are you all right? You look ill…”

“I have to go.”

He ran down to the exit he saw the old man take, but of course, he was gone.

Of course.

The signature was obvious. A paper document visible to him once his nemesis disappeared into the crowded city. Mr. Fowler; always the same stupid little games with his tricks and his spies. Always losing out to him and his contracts for distribution deals and more shipments to new markets.

Always new disguises…

That was quite impressive: an old man who looked like any other old man who took care of his wardrobe and possessed a very calm manner and pose.

“I think that I am going to have to skip lunch…”

Maria stared at his now sweaty face and dull eyes. She had known him for years and had never seen him look like this; it was like she was seeing him for the first time.

“You know, you can tell me what…”

“Not now. There is something that I have to take care of and it won’t end well. Take care…”

“Take…”

He was gone before she even finished her goodbye. It was still a beautiful day, but there was a lot that he had to do.