Old Man's questions Part Two
It was a few minutes before the therapy session was to begin. The Narrator, who was sleeping soundly in his black leather, lazy-boy recliner that he had installed at the end of the last session. He awoke with a snort, to the sound of loud banging on the factory walls. Groaning, he grabbed the alarm clock and looked at the ominous, glowing, green hands. There was still five minutes before the alarm was set to go off; and ten before the session was to commence. Dropping the alarm with a thud, he allowed the dream world to overtake him for another five minutes of blissful sleep. Suddenly he hears a loud screeching sound; not unlike that of one using a table saw to cut large metal girders. This was followed by an equally loud bang; and what he assumed was an electric drill and jackhammer.
Cursing silently, the Narrator rolled out of the recliner, and flipped on the lights to the factory. Rubbing his eyes, he looked out through the glass, expecting to see an empty factory floor; for the characters were not set to arrive until seven minutes from now. What he saw took him completely by surprise. Set in the rear part of the factory floor, stood a long, rectangular box that stood about eight feet in height.
Clicking the mike, the narrator said, “I see you guys have arrived early. Why?”
At the sound of his voice booming over the intercom, all the characters marched into a single line in front of the metal structure. They all wore the same getup of blue overalls, black work boots, white collared shits, grey battered work gloves and yellow hard hats. The Old Man had a clipboard in his hand; while Nosos was blowing a whistle in short, sharp bursts that was pressed between his lips. With two long bursts, the stomping of boots ceased, and Nosos spinning sharply on his heel, snapped to attention.
“At ease, Nosos. Though I’m surprised that you didn’t salute as well,” replied the Narrator. “Please proceed.”
“It would be improper, sir to salute indoors, sir.”
“I see; and having that getup on your head is? What are you doing here, and please call me Narrator, not sir?”
“We’re reporting for our weekly therapy session, Mr. Narrator, sir. These hard hats are for our protection.”
“Protection from what? What are you guys building over there?”
“A white room. It suddenly came upon us that we needed to build a white, narrow room. We can stop if you wish.”
“No, that’s not necessary, Nosos. However, in order for this therapy group to move forward, I’ll need to talk to the Old Man. Would it be possible to answer one of his questions while you guys continued your work?”
Nosos frowned, then said, “Well, as long as it doesn’t take too long. He’s the one with the blueprints, and he doesn’t trust anyone else with them.”
“Out of respect for you, Nosos, I promise that it’ll be a few minutes, and that the question I’ll answer for him is one of assurance of his daughter’s safety.”
With a nod, Nosos turned sharply, called out the Old Man, and discussed with him the situation. With another bark, Nosos instructed that one of the chairs be hooked up to a crane that had just now magically appeared out of thin air. They wrapped the hook around the chair, then strapped the Old Man into the chair. After hoisting him up close to one of the loud speakers, Nosos blew his whistle three times, causing the other characters to turn and march out of view. Almost immediately afterwards, the noise from the construction picked up again.
