The Printer Rebellion | Flash Fiction

I’m a slave for the deadlines.

That night I was on that situation where the deadline is lurking. My client was waiting for my report to be presented by the next morning. And at 1 a.m, I was still struggling with missing numbers. There were just too many invoices and receipts missing. Evaporate as if the papers were made of water absorbed by Jakarta's heat, becoming clouds, becoming rain.

Ah, it was raining, the Jakarta sky has been grey since the night before. And the rain just fell at 1 a.m. Leaving incredible stuffiness all night long.

I searched sheet by sheet. There was a big lightning struck, my computer screen flickered. Oh, please, don't turn off the lights! I begged for electricity.

For three hours I struggled with piles of files. The missing numbers have been adjusted, using my imagination. That was the best i can do. Ah, well, revisions can await.

4 o'clock in the morning. I have to print this report immediately. It was far from perfect. But hell, deadline...

I press the print button. The engine screeching sounded so painful. It ate the papers, swallowed them, but nothing came out. Jammed printer.

"Damn! Don’t do this to me! "I shouted at the machine. I hit its head. It squeaked again, trembled for a while, then spouted the paper out of the shelf.

"Shit!"

I unplugged the printer machine. I let it to take a breath, the machine was warm. Maybe the printer was as exhausted as me.

I put the blank paper back on the printer rack. Plug the electricity back.

"Please, don't make my life miserable," I said, stroking the power button.

Again I press the print button.

It seems like the machine heard me. It didn't squeak, the sound was smooth, the vibration was soft. Looks like everything went fine.

"Good," I said, watching the printed sheets.

The ninth sheet, I saw something went wrong. The black ink was too thick. The next sheet, the black ink seeps everywhere. My report looks like a black metal band logo.

The next sheet, the whole paper turns black. The printer is acting again. It didn't print anything I typed. It spit all the black ink into each remaining sheet.

"Hey!" I shouted again. I hit its head again. I pull the electricity and it immediately stopped vomiting ink.

I lazily lift the paper again from the shelf. I opened up the useless printer. The black ink is dying. I tried removing the ink container, replacing it with a new one.

But the container is acting up too. It didn't want to be released. With a little extra power, I managed to pull it out. And unfortunately, with the remains of ink in it, it spouted the ink at me. First to my shirt, then to my face, then to my eyes.

"Fuck!" I slammed that damned ink onto the floor. My shirt and face were covered in black ink.

I was very tired that morning. The client waited for my report at 7. While I was still struggling with this damned printer by dawn.

From the office window I could see that the rain had stopped. The sky was still cloudy.

From the office window I could see my shadow faintly. I look so messed up. From my two eyes, slowly dripping, yes, I cried, not tears, but inks...

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^{Photo by Rowan Heuvel on Unsplash}

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My other flash fictions on steemit:

• A Compilation of My Very Very Short Stories
• The Rule of Thumb on Being a Dilettante
• The Strangest Ad I’ve Ever Seen
• Hard Rain
• The Tale of Ken Angrok and The Cursed Dagger
• The Tale of Calon Arang, The Sad & Demonic Widow