The Catalyst Chronicles
Episode 9 - Book Machine
The Graduate Library exuded a feeling that said “LIBRARY” more forcefully than any signage. I wasn’t sure if it was the hushed activity or the smell of book paper. Maybe it was all the time I spent in libraries over the years, but I could identify a library even when blindfolded.
I had finished assembling the book machine and was well into the calibration and testing protocols when a librarian showed Sergeant Ramy into the room. Ramy looked over the machine and ran his hand through his hair. “So this is the infamous book machine. What’s so special about it?”
I smiled proudly. “This beauty can print, bind, and trim a 300 page paperback book and generate a four color cover in about seven minutes. The University wants to use it to reprint old and out of print books for research, teaching, and other scholarly activities. They will also use it to save money on other printing jobs. With this machine, the University only prints the number of copies it needs and they don’t have to pay for boxes of just-in-case overruns that have to be stored and eventually discarded. Everything is generated on-demand.”
“You sound like a salesman. How much does this thing cost?”
“About $90,000 plus $9,500/year for a maintenance contract.”
“That much? How can spending that much save money?”
“Universities run on paper and anything that reduces paper waste goes straight to the bottom line. Reducing overruns and inventory frees up space, simplifies accounting, and it’s better for the planet. You only produce what you need when you need it.”
Ramy shook his head and pulled two photographs from a folder. “Do you recognize these guys?”
I looked at the photos for a minute then started poking at my phone. I held the phone next to photos, swiping back and forth to compare images. “They look like the guys who vandalized my house. Did you catch them?”
“Not exactly,” Ramy said. “We found them in their car last night. Dead. This guy,” he said, pointing to one of the photos, “has buckshot in his leg.”
“Why do you have their photos on your phone?” Ramy asked sharply. The constant questioning and innuendo were getting old.
“Give me a break! These guys vandalized my home and planted who knows what under my truck. I wanted to remember their faces in case they followed me or something.”
“Where were you last night?”
“I was at the Jolly Pumpkin with a friend for a while and then I went home,” I replied.
“Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?”
“I was with Dr. Natalia Bremmer until about 9 PM. After that, I was at home, alone. You can check with the security company and verify the time stamps. I also noticed that a Sheriff car went by my place every hour or so during the night so you can ask your Deputies what they saw.”
Ramy frowned and returned the photos to the folder. “Your boss says you’re a pain in the ass, but your customers love you. Are you going to be a pain in my ass too?”
“I sincerely hope not,” I replied truthfully.
I had finished assembling the book machine and was well into the calibration and testing protocols when a librarian showed Sergeant Ramy into the room. Ramy looked over the machine and ran his hand through his hair. “So this is the infamous book machine. What’s so special about it?”
I smiled proudly. “This beauty can print, bind, and trim a 300 page paperback book and generate a four color cover in about seven minutes. The University wants to use it to reprint old and out of print books for research, teaching, and other scholarly activities. They will also use it to save money on other printing jobs. With this machine, the University only prints the number of copies it needs and they don’t have to pay for boxes of just-in-case overruns that have to be stored and eventually discarded. Everything is generated on-demand.”
“You sound like a salesman. How much does this thing cost?”
“About $90,000 plus $9,500/year for a maintenance contract.”
“That much? How can spending that much save money?”
“Universities run on paper and anything that reduces paper waste goes straight to the bottom line. Reducing overruns and inventory frees up space, simplifies accounting, and it’s better for the planet. You only produce what you need when you need it.”
Ramy shook his head and pulled two photographs from a folder. “Do you recognize these guys?”
I looked at the photos for a minute then started poking at my phone. I held the phone next to photos, swiping back and forth to compare images. “They look like the guys who vandalized my house. Did you catch them?”
“Not exactly,” Ramy said. “We found them in their car last night. Dead. This guy,” he said, pointing to one of the photos, “has buckshot in his leg.”
“Why do you have their photos on your phone?” Ramy asked sharply. The constant questioning and innuendo were getting old.
“Give me a break! These guys vandalized my home and planted who knows what under my truck. I wanted to remember their faces in case they followed me or something.”
“Where were you last night?”
“I was at the Jolly Pumpkin with a friend for a while and then I went home,” I replied.
“Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?”
“I was with Dr. Natalia Bremmer until about 9 PM. After that, I was at home, alone. You can check with the security company and verify the time stamps. I also noticed that a Sheriff car went by my place every hour or so during the night so you can ask your Deputies what they saw.”
Ramy frowned and returned the photos to the folder. “Your boss says you’re a pain in the ass, but your customers love you. Are you going to be a pain in my ass too?”
“I sincerely hope not,” I replied truthfully.
------
I returned the service van to the company lot just before sunset and retrieved my Honda for the drive home. I was trying to cultivate more situational awareness in my daily activities but my attention kept wandering to recent events.
Once I was inside the station, I sent a text message to Jerry informing him that the installation was complete and I was taking Monday off as a Comp Day. The phone rang a few minutes later; it was Mr. Personality.
“What’s this about taking Monday off?” Jerry demanded.
“Jerry, I worked 55 hours last week plus 10 hours today, a Sunday. The book machine was installed a week early, and the company trainer won’t be in until next Monday.”
“We have customers waiting for service.”
“I saw the schedule. You have me booked through Tuesday on the University installation. There is nothing on my docket.”
“I repeat we have customers who need service. You’re a service engineer.”
“Are you going to pay me time-and-a-half for 15 hours last week plus double-time for 10 hours today?”
“Why would I do that?” Jerry huffed.
“Because it’s company policy and the right thing to do,” I replied. “Alternatively, you can give me Monday off at straight time and still come out ahead on productivity and hours billed.”
“Somebody from Sheriff Department called me today,” Jerry said changing the subject. “He asked a lot of questions about you. He also said your home was vandalized.”
“That’s right. Sergeant Ramy came to see me today at the university.”
“This isn’t going to be a regular occurrence, is it?”
I sighed, “One time in six years doesn’t seem like a regular occurrence.”
“I want you in my office at 7:30 on Tuesday.”
“As you wish.” I ended the call and made some choice comments about Jerry's genetic heritage.
“Bad day?” Irma asked.
“Just living the dream. Anything happening here?”
“A bucket truck was working on the utility pole near the Jameson Road driveway. They were here for 38 minutes. The same truck was working on that pole on Thursday, but it didn’t seem remarkable at the time.”
“Could you tell what they were doing?”
“They appeared to be removing something from the pole.”
“Place both videos into permanent storage. Sergeant Ramy will want to see them when he discovers what those packages can do.”
“Anything else?”
“No, I am still in silent mode.”
“OK. Go back to normal operations, but for God’s sake, don’t download any more information on radioactive materials.”
Once I was inside the station, I sent a text message to Jerry informing him that the installation was complete and I was taking Monday off as a Comp Day. The phone rang a few minutes later; it was Mr. Personality.
“What’s this about taking Monday off?” Jerry demanded.
“Jerry, I worked 55 hours last week plus 10 hours today, a Sunday. The book machine was installed a week early, and the company trainer won’t be in until next Monday.”
“We have customers waiting for service.”
“I saw the schedule. You have me booked through Tuesday on the University installation. There is nothing on my docket.”
“I repeat we have customers who need service. You’re a service engineer.”
“Are you going to pay me time-and-a-half for 15 hours last week plus double-time for 10 hours today?”
“Why would I do that?” Jerry huffed.
“Because it’s company policy and the right thing to do,” I replied. “Alternatively, you can give me Monday off at straight time and still come out ahead on productivity and hours billed.”
“Somebody from Sheriff Department called me today,” Jerry said changing the subject. “He asked a lot of questions about you. He also said your home was vandalized.”
“That’s right. Sergeant Ramy came to see me today at the university.”
“This isn’t going to be a regular occurrence, is it?”
I sighed, “One time in six years doesn’t seem like a regular occurrence.”
“I want you in my office at 7:30 on Tuesday.”
“As you wish.” I ended the call and made some choice comments about Jerry's genetic heritage.
“Bad day?” Irma asked.
“Just living the dream. Anything happening here?”
“A bucket truck was working on the utility pole near the Jameson Road driveway. They were here for 38 minutes. The same truck was working on that pole on Thursday, but it didn’t seem remarkable at the time.”
“Could you tell what they were doing?”
“They appeared to be removing something from the pole.”
“Place both videos into permanent storage. Sergeant Ramy will want to see them when he discovers what those packages can do.”
“Anything else?”
“No, I am still in silent mode.”
“OK. Go back to normal operations, but for God’s sake, don’t download any more information on radioactive materials.”
