The trolley stands in the storeroom, a wooden beast of
burden. On entering, Al, the Collector, pats its smooth surface, as if greeting
a favourite pet. The wheels squeak in reply.
Unhooking his clipboard and quill, Al checks the supplies on
the trolley.
“Ink pots. Two, three, four packs. All shades. Okay,” he mutters to himself, his eyes flicking between the list on the clipboard and the trolley. Scratching a tick on the parchment, he continues, “Stamps, two, four, six. Check. Scrolls, five boxes. Good. Repair kit, including replacement beads. Yes. Red tape…ummm, running low.”
Walking deeper into the storage room, Al checks several shelves and wonders why there hasn’t been another delivery of Red Tape.
The deeper he goes the more shadows his light makes. The looming storage seem like monsters, and as Al’s light dims they get bigger. Fortunately, he finds a full box of Red Tape, before his light goes out.
Carrying it quickly back to the trolley he unloads the tape and makes a note on his clipboard. He’ll need to speak to Management about increasing the next order.
Finished, he pulls the trolley into the corridor, then pushes it along the soft, white carpet.
With every step, Al’s light intensifies, like turning a dimmer switch.
Reaching the open plan area is his second favorite part of the day, because now he sees the warm glow of his most efficient colleague.
Although he wants to race straight over, he restrains himself. Molly has always been friendly, but he knows she doesn’t feel the same way about him.
Her core doesn’t flash, when he’s near. Nor do sparks race through her light when he smiles.
So, fingers tingling and chest hammering, Al allows himself a single sigh before forcing his legs to walk the normal route.
Gossiping to the many luminous immortals who work in the Never-Ending Office, Al delivers the various supplies from his trolley. But all the time, he’s conscious of that one light. Occasionally, he glances over in the hope that maybe today Molly will be looking out for him too.
But today is not that day.
With the practice of thirty-thousand Wild years, Al allows his feelings for Molly to simmer, whilst collecting gossip. Keeping busy is a good distraction.
Everyone is talking about Gabriel, as Al expected, but one worker’s question catches his attention.
“I wonder what will change this time?”
After the first message, the Collection and Distribution Plant, the Never-Ending Office and the Postal Workers were established. It was how Al became Collector. Maybe if things change this time, he’ll be able to do something different.
Maybe he’ll be able to stand out, to be noticed, even by Molly.
Arriving at Molly’s immaculate desk, Al finds her reading a scroll. Even doing admin she shines with a light warmer than anyone else’s, like the glow from a house in the night.
“Hi Molly,” says Al.
Smiling, Molly looks up, “Morning Al.”
Like a neon sign, Al’s light buzzes with happiness.
