Literature
Three stripes on a paper
The Woman from the Copier Room
“May you suffer forever and burn as one of the damned in Hell.”
Vivienne Dumas pointed an accusing hand at her opponent, adding physical emphasis to the curse.
The opponent remained unaffected. It continued rattling, swallowed another page from the stack and produced it with the same three black lines running down the paper. The photocopier was impervious to damnation. Possibly because it had no soul. Possibly because it had already been designed in Hell and recognised the curse as a formal invitation to return home.
Vivienne had reported the malfunction yesterday.
And the week before. Possibly a month ago.
First, the toner cartridge had been replaced. Then some guiding component. Then a lighting module, or whatever mysterious organs lived inside a machine that could print, copy, scan and systematically destroy one woman’s remaining patience.
Calling technical support again would probably result in someone hanging up. The machine was merely
