I wish I could go back exactly 24 hours and redo the whole thing. If I could, I’d erase that tiny span of three seconds, where I had agreed to go to Bevelin Corporation to work on a copier. I’d have told my dispatcher that I had too many calls, and that they should send someone else. And then the events that I’m about to describe would have been witnessed by someone else (anyone else) instead of me.
I hadn’t been there long when the fireworks started. I was just testing the machine (I hadn’t even opened my toolbox yet) when I heard a loud voice from the back of the room say, “HEY EVERYBODY, I’M LOOKING AT PORNOGRAPHY!”
Of course, everyone (including myself) looked up at the where the voice was coming from. A small man, who was prematurely bald on the top and post-BigMac large on the bottom, sat at his desk (there were no cubicles here—just rows of desks, each set up with its own computer and printer) jabbing at his keyboard.
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