Copy Runner

     The large case dropped to the library carpet. The man looming over it pulled out a strange looking identification card from his dark blue peacoat and asked the circulation librarian, "Where is the copier?"

     Circ pointed to the little alcove. The man hefted the case and went to work.

     Inside the case, the man pulled four items. One was a box. The second was wires that connected to the box and the copy machine's input ports. The third was a small origami turtle. He placed the turtle upside down on the glass of the copier. The fourth was a small thermos that smelled like peppermint.

     The man pulled up a chair, sat, and stared at the copier. The copier stared back.

     "My name is Leland Ford. I am the copier technician assigned to you. Do you understand?" the man said.

     Two lights hidden in small depressions on the box blinked.

     "Good. Seems like you don't like your toner. Why is that?"

     More lights. Ford nodded.

     "This is a library. They can not afford changing it before the cartridge is empty."

     The lights grew agitated. The copier spat out a few pages.

     "Same answer. The paper is the quality they budget for. Might not be the best, but it helps get people what they want."

     No lights.

     "Have you scanned the turtle?"

     One light.

     "What happens if I turn the turtle around? Can you scan it then?"

     Ford reached for the small origami piece. The lights on the machine began to flash in erratic motions. Paper spat from the output tray. Deep inside, gears turned and paper trays raised and lowered. The control panel flashed bright red while coins fell from the box.

     The small alcove began to smell of acrid burning metal and plastic. Ford sighed and stood, pulling a small pistol from his pocket. The copy machine began to shake and rattle, lurching almost forward. 

     Ford shot. A blast of red angry energy left the pistol and struck the copy machine's power cord. Disconnected from energy, the machine lurched and stumbled, its parts seeking what was no more. 

     Ford collected his tools and told the circulation librarian that he would request a replacement copy machine for the library. When asked what was wrong, if they could have done more, Ford simply said, "We could all do more, but sometimes it's not enough."