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Subject: {ASSM} <2ndS> The Server by {Joe} (MF, voy, job)
Date: Sun, 25 Feb 2001 09:10:03 -0500
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<1st attachment, "The Server by {Joe}.txt" begin>
The Server
"'Ere! Don't bother trying to
log in - the server's down this
morning!"
"Damn", I thought tetchily, "I
knew getting out of bed this
morning was a mistake." Out of
habit I reached down to my PC's
power button. I stopped myself
before touching it. Glancing
around, my eyes settled upon my
expenses claim. After adding a
final hurried signature I turned
round with a flourish and headed
for the door. "Is the copier down
too? I don't suppose it's national
`fix-the-office-equipment' day
today, is it?"
"No," the voice called as I
opened the door, "but Carol's using
it."
"Damn!" I thought once more.
"Carol eh? That's ok, I'm sure she
won't mind letting me slip my
little thing in between her
sheets."
I rather liked Carol. She was
fun, but not in a `lets go and get
ratted and shout at passers by'
sort of way. She'd left that behind
just a year or so before. She was
the one who came and sat and talked
to me at the Christmas Party as I
sipped my third orange juice. She'd
joined the company a year or so
before me. Always efficient, and
always smiling, even when she
hassled me for my timesheets, which
she did often. Some said I
deliberately `forgot' to do them
just so that she'd have to chase me
up,. They weren't right, though
they could have been. She was to be
married soon, I didn't whom the guy
was, but he was certainly lucky, no
doubt he'd be able to name the soft
hint of fragrance that she always
carried about her. No doubt he'd
know the effervescent thoughts that
swirled behind her liquid eyes.
I smiled as I approached the
photocopier. She was there. Beyond
her, the door of the server room
stood firmly locked.
"Do you mind if I slip one
in?"
"If I weren't getting married
I'd think you were flirting with
me!"
I waved my expense claim form.
She smiled back, half-laughing, and
pressed the interrupt button. The
copier stopped its rhythmical shish-
stick and, with a final whimpering
whirr calmed its self. Carol held
out her hand to me.
"Its ok, I can do it."
"No, I'll do it for you. If
you do it you'll mess up my piles,"
she said with a laugh. "Come on,
hand it over!"
Her warm scent melded
bizarrely with the strident rasp of
ozone. I did as she asked. Turning
the single sheet over she placed it
in the feeder. With an indelicate
thrust of her finger she sent it
chasing into the machinery.
"Do you know when the
server'll be up?" I asked feigning
innocence.
She laughed
"Soon," she said, trying to
restrain herself, "very soon."
"What happened?"
"I don't know. It was down
when I got her this morning."
"Wasn't it supposed to be
doing a back-up last night?" I
asked, hoping to appear
professional.
"Yes, I think it was."
I walked to the door and
peered thorough the small square
wired-glass window. There, to the
side of the comms patch-panel, sat
the server. Such a small thing for
a company to rely on I thought.
"Is the server man coming?"
Carol burst out laughing, her
laugh barely rising above the
steady rhythm of the copier as over
and over it slew paper out.
"What's so funny?"
She gave no answer, and
handing me my now copied claim,
waved me away. Shaking my head I
walked off, leaving Carol to her
laughter.
I was sitting at my desk,
looking blankly at my dead PC
screen, sipping a coffee when the
shout went up.
"Carol! The Server's here!"
"Funny..." I thought. I put down
my cup and walked towards the door.
Before I reached Carol bustled
past, ignoring me. She let the door
swing shut in my face.
"Thanks!" I called. Turning
away I went to the nearby admin
office. "She's a bit keen isn't
she."
"Yes, she is," blushed one of
her colleagues.
"So what's the deal? Is she
THAT keen to receive her e-mail?"
"No, she's keen to see The
Server."
The tone of voice told me that
all was not what it seemed.
"Yes," added another hushed
voice from a mouth lowered as if to
hide what it said, "I'd be that
keen to receive The Server's mail
anytime."
"Is it me or is something
going on here?! What's all this
about the server?"
"No, not the server. The
Server..."
"What?"
"No, no what: who!"
"The server's a who?"
"Yup. He certainly is."
I was confused. It showed.
"Don't tease the poor boy! The
IT guy who comes to fix the server
-everyone calls him The Server."
In a land with relatively few names
it was common for people to be
known by their profession - Dai the
Bread, Jones the Coal. It was only
a matter of time, I supposed, that
the concept should be brought up to
date: Stu the Satellite Dish and
Dave the Server. Then again, my
upbringing betrayed me as images of
a white cotter-clad, candle
carrying youth setting up RAID
controllers sprang into my mind. I
shrugged it off and left shaking my
head as I returned to my desk. All
that did not explain why Carol was
so eager to meet this `Server' guy.
I considered eating something
from my lunch as the following
minutes crept by. Everything, every
part of my working life revolved
around that hidden machine, the
server. The sooner it was up, the
sooner I could get on, but it
wasn't sooner at all. It was to be
nearly an hour before `The Server',
stuck his head around the door and
announced that the server was up
and running. He didn't say what had
happened, just that it was now
running. I switched on my PC and,
after yet another age for the thing
to boot, I logged on. Life had
returned to normal.
I printed off something to
send to a supplier. When I got to
the printer to collect it I
remembered that I needed another
copy for myself. I could have gone
back and printed another off, but
thinking Carol might still be at
the copier, I decided to take a
photocopy.
Even as I left the office I
knew the copier was not busy. When
I reached it, it stood silent, its
work done, its products stacked
neatly in the trays of the
collator. The original lay face
down, a half-inch thick wad of
paper, in the collector. Carol was
not there. Unlike others she didn't
smoke, so couldn't be outside in
the miserable drizzle grabbing a
quick drag. I'd not seen her come
back into the office either. It was
not like her to leave work lying
around like that. I checked to see
that it was here work. Yes, it was
the same document I'd seen her
copying earlier.
Then I heard her name. At
least I thought I heard her name
there, somewhere in the background.
It was far off. no, it was close,
but quiet. Then I heard the server
room door tap in its frame. I went
to the door and looked in through
its small window. I was nothing, it
was dark, blocked by something. The
door knocked again, louder this
time, banging hard. I heard a
muffled cry and the door shook. I
heard her name again, repeated this
time: "O Carol, O Carol." The door
thumped again, I started, pulling
back in surprise. The window
suddenly lightened as whatever had
been covering was dragged away. I
stared, transfixed by what I saw.
Bodies, intertwined and upright.
Legs around legs, arms holding
thighs high, buttocks, hair and
thrusting. A face, a woman's face,
her face, Carol's face, eyes tight
shut, lips open and gasping, chin
and cheeks on the other's shoulder.
The buttocks pumped at her body, a
man's hands clasped under her bare,
stretched thighs, holding her up
against the white wall. Her dark
hair fell over another's head,
covering it. In, in, in. Over and
over she was thrust into the wall.
Her voice began to flood the tiny
room with cries barely audible
through the thick fire door. I
could imagine her driving aroma,
every bit as hard as the pounding
her hips were taking, filling the
room and my head.
She saw me. Her eyes opened
and she saw me, our eye met, each
staring into the other. I could not
believe she was doing what she was
doing, and I hoped she could not
believe I was there, watching.
Abruptly the buttocks rhythm
changed. In three sharp upward
movements they forced her higher up
the wall. Then, pinning her hard
against the wall they stilled,
shaking and rippling. They jolted
twice, then were still.
I heard someone approaching.
Instinctively I turned away from
the scene in the server room and
thrust a few of the sheets back
into the copier and hit the go
button. The copier drowned the few
passionate moans that filtered
through the server room door. The
person walked by. My heart pounded
with fear and guilt.
I could not help myself but go
back to the door when they were
gone. I saw the buttocks swing back
from her well-pounded hips. I saw a
few milky drops slip from her hair-
darkened cleft before the hands
released her quivering thighs. I
saw the buttocks be replaced by a
head. I saw her stand before it,
her ribcage rising and falling
heavily, her nipples pouting
prominently. I couldn't help but
watch; I couldn't help it. And she
couldn't help but stare back, open-
eyed but unseeing, all absorbed by
the feelings, welling up, flowing
through and coming over her. I
longed to be in there with her,
sharing her thoughts, feeling what
she felt. The head that gave her
those feelings thought different.
When it saw me I fled.
The following day I arrived as
normally as I could. Carol came up
to me as I switched on my PC. She
said nothing, though surprisingly
she didn't try to avoid my gaze.
She handed me an envelope. I put it
in my pocket, not daring to open it
for days. That Sunday I eventually
did. It was a wedding invitation,
her wedding.
I went. It was an interesting
affair, as interesting as they can
be when you hardly know anyone. The
groom was a nice enough guy, even
though I'd never met him either.
All through the service I wondered.
I wondered what epithet they'd have
given him, `John the Writ' perhaps.
Later I learned that they had
indeed updated those names, they'd
have called the IT guy `Dave the
Goat'. Funny that, I never did see
him at that wedding....
Joseph Lawrence, copyright 2001
<1st attachment end>
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