"Error!"
The dialog box flashed across Chris Larabee's computer screen and he swore under his breath. He clicked the "OK" button and tried to open his file again.
"Error!" The box seemed to jeer at the mere mortal.
"God dammit," he snarled. >Click<.
"This system has become unstable! Hit CTRL+ALT+DEL to restart your system."
"I don't wanna restart the damn system," Chris snapped. >Click<. >Click<.
"This system has become unstable! Hit CTRL+ALT+DEL to restart your system."
Chris sighed loudly and pressed the power switch on his computer. After a few seconds, he pressed it again. There was a loud click and the whir of the system starting up. The screen remained black for a few moments then the familiar words giving the specs on the computer that no one ever had a chance to read appeared. The Windows screen came up and after a second he saw his background wallpaper appear. Clouds in a blue sky. Last time I ever let Josiah use my computer, Chris thought in irritation. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to change the wallpaper back to his more familiar olive green.
His icons appeared and he moved his pointer over to the "Word" icon. >Click<,
>click<. The program was called up and opened. Chris moved over to the "File" menu and clicked his mouse. He looked at the files that were last opened and swore when he didn't see the one he was looking for.
Not even a God damn recovered file.
He clicked on "Open File" and moved through his directories.
It wasn't there.
Awww hell.
Chris moved over to the search box.
Name of File.
He typed in "Annrep199".
Another dialog box appeared.
File not found.
"Shit!"
After ten more minutes of hunting for his lost file and more cursing, Chris yanked his phone off the hook. He flipped through his rolodex and found a number he was loathed to use.
A deceptively cheerful, mechanical voice greeted him on the other end.
God, how he hated automated systems.
"Thank you for calling technical support. Your call is important to us. Please choose one of the options from the following menu. If you have questions regarding the latest version of Microsoft Windows, please press one. If you have questions regarding Microsoft Office Programs, please press two. If you would like to subscribe to the Microsoft News Letter, please press three. If you would like to be on the Microsoft mailing list and receive information on the latest products, please press four. For technical questions regarding a Microsoft product, please press five. For all other inquiries, please press six."
Chris jabbed at the number five button.
"For questions regarding Microsoft Windows, please press one. For questions regarding Microsoft Powerpoint, please press two. For questions regarding Microsoft Access, please press three. For questions regarding Microsoft Word, please press four. For all other inquires, please press five."
Four.
"Thank you. Your call is important to us. This conversation may be recorded to insure quality service." Pause. "The wait for technical assistance is approximately ten minutes."
Chris snorted in frustration and replaced his handset as he put the call on his speaker phone. He began to drum his fingers on the desk. He groaned aloud when he heard music filtering from the other end. He dropped his head on his desk and moaned.
Yanni. They were playing Yanni. That damn musician who looked like a weird cross between Buck Wilmington and Vin Tanner.
Twenty minutes and a couple forehead pounds against the top of his desk later, Chris heard a human voice at the other end of the line.
"Thank you for calling Microsoft, how may I help you?"
A human being.
Chris dove desperately at the phone and took it off the speaker. "I can't git my file. The computer says it's not there, but I saved it before I went out to lunch."
"What is the computer saying exactly, sir?"
Chris sighed. "I came back from lunch. I went to open my file and it said it was corrupted. Then the whole damn thing became unstable and I had to reboot. Now it's saying it can't find the file."
"Did you save it, sir?"
"I know how to save a God damn file!" Chris snarled viciously.
"There's no need for profanity, sir. Did you reboot?"
"I told ya'! That's what it made me do since it became unstable!" He was beginning to shout.
"Could you have named it something else?"
"No, I didn't name it sumthin' else!" Chris heard an odd noise. "Are you flipping pages? Are you lookin' for something in a book to help me?" His anger boiled over. "Goddammit! You're suppose to know this stuff! I can look through a book myself! Ain't you a professional or something?!"
"Sir," the voice at the other end had become frigid. "We do not have to take abuse. Kindly keep a civil tongue."
"I ain't gotta be civil!" shouted Chris. "Listen you little weasel, I'm gonna rip your assh-, hello?" Chris tapped the phone. He hung up. The technician hung up on him.
"God damn!"
The cursing was loud and colorful and the sound of something being thrown could be heard. Heads popped out of offices and over cubicle walls like so many prairie dogs looking to see what was going on in the new day.
"God dammit all to Hell!" came another burst from behind the frosted glass door that had the words "Chris Larabee" printed in bold, black letters.
Hesitantly, the six other men who made up the special force at the ATF approached the closed door. For a few seconds, they stood outside, looking silently at each other with one question in their eyes. Knock first?
Vin decided the matter and put his hand on the doorknob and turned it. He cautiously opened the door and peered inside, the rest of the men crowding around behind him.
"You okay, Chris?" the long-haired man asked.
"No, I'm not okay," snarled their leader. The other men thought they could see actual steam coming from his ears.
"What's wrong there, pard?" Buck asked as they all trooped in.
"This," Chris jabbed an accusing finger at his computer monitor. "Is what's wrong!"
The men crowded around Chris's chair and peered over his shoulder. On the screen before him was a small dialog that had the words they all dreaded seeing. "File not found."
"I saved that damn file before lunch," Chris continued. "I come back, try to pull it up to print it and this is what this f*cking machine gives me."
"Did you do a file search?" JD, the most technically adept member asked as he nudged the others out of the way to get closer to the computer. He placed his hand over the mouse and without waiting for Chris' answer began to do a search.
"Yeah, I did a search," Chris snapped out. "And I got spit for my trouble."
"How about opening up the last document that was in Word?" Josiah asked as he squinted at the screen.
"Tried that too."
"It's not here," JD declared, his search turning up nothing.
Chris glared at him. "It's got to be there. I know I saved it!"
"What was 'it'?" Vin asked.
"Bi-annual summary report," Chris replied grimly.
Small sounds of sympathy greeted this statement. The bi-annual summary report was a daunting task in itself. They knew Chris had been working on it for the past two weeks.
"Did you back it up?" Nathan asked.
Chris shook his head, mentally kicking himself for not doing that. His eyes lit up. "Think we can pull up off the back-up for the network?"
"Charlie is on vacation this week and next," Josiah replied. Charlie was the MIS person for the division. Naturally, no one else knew how to pull a file off the back-ups, or exactly where Charlie kept them.
"Damn," Chris sighed. His report was due in three days.
"Did you try tech support?" JD asked.
The look Chris gave him made the young man wish he had never brought up the name "tech support". Chris continued to glare at his computer when he snarled and dove for his gun.
The six men all lunged forward and held his arms.
"Easy there, Chris!" Buck exclaimed. "They ain't gonna give you another computer if you shoot this one."
"Good! Damn machines!"
"Now Chris," Josiah said soothingly. "What with the ATF's budget being cut and all, you know it'll be months before your new computer comes in if you shoot this one. After all, remember what happened with the last one, and your laptop."
"The laptop was not my fault," Chris muttered as he settled back down in his chair.
The other men exchanged disbelieving looks above Chris' head, but wisely remained silent.
"I hate to tell you this, pard," Vin drawled out. "But you might just have to do the whole thing over again. You got drafts or notes or sumthin'?"
Chris nodded. "Yeah, but it's still gonna take me at least a week to reconstruct it. Unless-" His voice trailed off and he stared off into space for a moment. "You guys mind gettin' out of here? I gotta call I need to make."
"Sure, Chris," Nathan replied.
The other men filed out of his office. Buck was the last one to leave and he paused in the doorway. "Who you callin'?"
"Goodbye, Buck," Chris said firmly.
The big man shrugged and went out the door, closing it behind him.
Two hours later, the elevator doors opened and Mary and Billy Travis stepped into the ATF offices.
"Mrs. Travis!" Buck exclaimed. "Nice to see you. Hey, Billy." He looked questioningly at the Travises. "What are you doing here?" The other men also looked curiously at the civilians.
"I asked 'em here," Chris said from behind them.
"Hey Chris!" The little boy ran forward and was swung up into the air in the blond agent's arms.
"Hey there, Billy," Chris grinned.
"So, what's the computer problem you got?" the little boy asked.
Chris set him down and hunched down to the child's level. "Well, you see Billy, I saved this file before lunch and when I came back to print it up, I couldn't and the computer shut down on me. Now the computer is saying it ain't there, I'm hoping you can find it for me."
Billy nodded. "What's it called?"
"Annrep199."
"Billy is a whiz with computers," Mary explained to the other men as she came forward. She nodded at Chris. "Hello, Agent Larabee."
"Ma'am," Chris greeted the lovely widow politely.
"Hell, you'd think he have a better line by now," Buck mumbled.
"I know it's a long shot, Billy findin' the file and all, but I didn't want to redo all that work and the report is due in three days-"
"Found it," Billy called out as he rejoined the group. "I'm printing it up now."
Chris gazed down at the little boy in open-mouth astonishment. "You found it?"
"Uh huh," Billy replied.
"But, how-?"
Billy launched into a technical lecture that became white noise to Chris. His eyes glazed over and his mouth hung open as he just stared at the little magician in front of him.
"And that's how I found it," Billy concluded.
Chris looked dazedly up at Mary who smiled back at him sympathetically. She patted him consolingly on the arm. "I've learned to just sort of accept what he says."
Chris grunted.
Billy tugged on his mother's hand. "Can we go get something to eat now, momma? I'm real hungry."
"Sure, honey," Mary smiled down at her son. She looked inquiringly at Chris. "If there's nothing else...?"
Chris snapped out of his stupor and opened his mouth to say "no" when he saw his men gathered behind the widow. Each wore an expression on his face that said, "The least you could do is buy them dinner after the boy just saved your hide."
Chris glared at his men and saw Mary look taken aback. Her eyes narrowed and a hostile light appeared in them. He hastened to assure her that his glare was not meant for her.
"I insist on buying you and Billy dinner."
"That is not necessary," Mary replied through stiff lips, angry at the glare she still thought was directed at her.
"We're going to dinner," Chris said irritably.
Mary's nostrils flared a little as she blew out an angry breath. "Thank you, but no."
"I insist."
"Please momma?"
Mary looked down at her son and relented. Billy was eager to spend time with this man who baffled and annoyed her. She guessed she could tolerate a few hours in his company if only to please her son.
"All right."
"Lemme get my coat," Chris mumbled.
He stepped back into his office and checked on his report. It had finished printing up. Chris saved the file and for good measure, backed it up. He then grabbed his black duster and rejoined Mary and Billy outside his office. He closed his office door and slipped into his coat.
"Let's go."
The three made there way down the short hall and onto the waiting elevator, the child unaware of the hostility between the two adults. It wasn't until the elevator doors slid shut after them that Buck decided it would be safe to speak.
"That's gonna be one hell of a dinner."
The End
