One Elderly Vulcan Male Plus Bar of Soap

By Linda

Rating: G

Genres: humour

Keywords:

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Disclaimer: No filthy lucre changed hands
Rating: G
Genre: It shouldn’t happen to a Vulcan, humor

There was exciting news in the Port-A-Trans Corp employee’s newsletter this month. It announced that in 2166 the company would once again be in the black. That meant the yearly bonuses would be back according to the buzz around the main plant. Charles Tucker II fingered a copy of the patent he was going to pin up on the bulletin board in his office. Although it was his invention, that little piece of paper he signed forty-five years ago as a new employee meant that the company got ownership of anything he invented at work. They had even tried to take ownership of that more efficient solar collector he had developed in his off hours at home in his garage. That one, the lawyers were still arguing over. Could you imagine?

Straight out of MIT, that was when they got hold of him. Charles could have kicked himself for accepting the first offer of employment, and then, for not leaving after the first five years….or after twelve years when he got that great offer from General Electric. Too late now, he had too much of his life invested in this company…up until this latest insult, that is. Not to mention the fact that he was forty pounds heavier and his hair was almost gone. Looks mattered, even in males, when interviewing for new employment. Age mattered too.

But back to this new portable transporter weighing only thirty pounds. It looked like a round shower stall. The power unit weighed one hundred pounds, but if you just had the stall part, it could be plugged into the power systems of most corporate office buildings and some of the more advanced home power systems. In fact, it was designed so executives could transport to work – from their homes in Hawaii to their offices in New York City, and the ilk.

Mr. Sorvank, and Charles had been sure he spotted a smirk on that bland Vulcan face, had told him that there were to be no bonus for the actual inventor this time. The developers all were a team. It did not matter that Charles had worked late each evening when the rest of them went home. Sorvank, himself, had defined hours for everything and never deviated. For instance, he told Charles, he woke at 8:15, showered at 8:20, ate breakfast at 8:45, then worked from 9:30 until 3:15. If Charles worked during his official off hours, whatever he did was his entertainment, not his work.

Charles was as mad as hell, but there was no debating a Vulcan. What did Sorvank do all day anyway, sitting in that corner office upstairs in that black leather chair? Damn accountants. They did not WORK like real engineers. No grease stains on their clothes, so to speak.

And guess what? Charles had just received this work order to personally install his invention in Sorvank’s home. Well, Sorvank was remodeling anyway, Scott Ferring, the VP in charge of Development, said. He had the decency to look chagrined as he patted Charles on the back. The Vulcan was completely changing out the kitchen and bathrooms in preparation for selling the mansion when he retired in six months. He, of course, was moving back to the old home world.

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Ferring.” And Charles smiled, for he had just had a creative moment. “I’ll get right on it first thing tomorrow.”

He got on it that night. Cecelia Loring (PhD) had been an old flame at MIT who had dumped him for one of the school’s basketball heroes. He had gotten over it and they had kept in touch by email over the years. She never left MIT and was now head of the Biological Engineering Department. Would she give him the times of her upcoming lectures on alien biology in Greene Hall? And the exact GPS coordinates of the lectern? And install this chip in the lectern’s holo imaging activation control?

“Of course, because you have come up with the most useful inventions, Charlie, but why?”

“Oh, it will enhance the holo image; it will be amazingly realistic. Better than the enhancement I sent you last year. It will arrive by overnight delivery. Just drop the chip in same you did last year. Be sure to do it before you begin your alien biology lecture tomorrow morning, okay?”

Charles stepped over piles of dry wall and between coils of wiring in the mansion late that afternoon. He directed the movers where to put the clear plastic unit. “Yes, remove that other unit and just set it in the home office over there. No don’t try to connect it in that office there, just make it look like it is connected. Now install the connections to my unit in this room over here. Yes, that is correct. Don’t worry; I will take responsibility for this change.”

Upon leaving the mansion, Charles went to his bank to withdrew his savings. Then he called his wife to pack a couple of bags and meet him at the airport. Yes, they were abandoning that apartment they had taken after their home in Florida had been destroyed. Now was definitely the time to settle into that secret mountain retirement hide-a-way they had built.

Later that evening, Sorvank and his mate returned from the hotel where they had been staying while the remodeling was being done. There were still things to be cleaned up, and the subcontractor would be there the next day to take care of it. But it was good to be back home. Mrs. Sorvank wanted to know if Sorvank would be using the new transporter in his home office tomorrow to get to work. No, he was not even going into his home office until the dry wall dust had been vacuumed up after the new bookcases where installed. He was going to bed now.

Next morning, Sorvank woke with a slight cramp in his leg, as he sometimes did. Easing his gaunt body out of the bed, he stretched his leg to ease the cramp. Then he headed for the bathroom. Ah, this room had been finished. Bending to take a new bar of soap from the cabinet under the sink, he moved slowly because the cramp was threatening to return. The warm shower water should ease that cramp. Glancing at the bathroom chronometer, he saw it was 8:20:00, and he stepped into the new clear plastic round shower stall.

At 8:20:01, Dr. Loring was twenty minutes into her lecture on alien biology - Vulcan biology in fact, as she had assured Charlie when he had pestered her about the content. She gazed at the faces of one hundred fifty bored students in the tiers of seats in front of her. At this time in the lecture, some graphic illustrations usually woke them up. She pushed the button on the lectern to activate her demo holograph. And on cue, the naked body of an elderly Vulcan appeared, complete with bar of soap.


Note: This story idea occurred to me when Jim and I were house hunting almost two years ago and saw this round avant-garde shower stall in the middle of a huge bathroom. The house was not for us, but we both had the same idea about what that bathroom resembled.


Comments:

Brandyjane

:p  This is too funny! 

Linda

Cool, a comment!  Well there were more before the system crashed.  But it really is nice to have at least one comment after the crash!

Lola LB
Now this is really funny . . ;)

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