Radioactive

[Old Version] Addendum: Things Smolder.

That evening, in a dark room on the other side of town, the display another radioactive device spontaneously lit up. The signal had been received. In a mere fraction of a second, the radio frequencies were converted into the ones and zeros of computer language, electrons flying at the speed of light through the circuits. These were in turn read as a command, and that specific command was instantaneously executed by the clockwork programming of the device. And at that precise moment, the device spectacularly went off, sending vibrations coursing through any and all nearby matter and sonic waves shooting at a phenomenal rate through the troposphere, resulting in one almighty BANG which shattered glass and caused irreparable property damage.

Brian Connor sighed at the sound of I’m Your Boogie Man coming from his new iPhone. He walked into the kitchen just in time to witness it vibrate itself off the edge of the countertop and smash onto the floor, leaving the screen still lit, yet spiderwebbed with cracks. As he rushed to pick it up, he let out a long string of curses that could rival even the diction of Leah Burdett. While he could scarcely tell what was on the display beneath the shattered screen, he found it did still respond to the touch of his fingertip. He unlocked the phone and tapped where the “Answer” button should have been, silencing KC and the Sunshine Band.

“Hi Rosa,” he said to his friend/former co-worker, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice.

“Hey Brian, what’s up?” she said.

“The screen on my phone just broke. I can’t believe it, I haven’t even had it for a month yet, and it’s already wrecked. Over three hundred dollars, wasted.”

“Aw, that’s pretty lousy. You think you can fix it?”

“Not a chance.” Brian ran his fingers through his short, brown-gray hair in frustration. “I’d have to get a totally new phone.”

“Well, hey, at least it still works, right? I mean, you were able to answer my call.”

“Sure, but I can’t see crap on it—nothing but random white fractures on top of random colors.”

“That sucks.”

“I know. But enough about my problems, what’s happening on your end?”

“Oh, you know, the usual custodial crap. I was wondering: you wouldn’t happen to own a pair of bolt-cutters, would you? Some kid’s been going around switching students’ locker locks at random, and a whole bunch of them can’t get any of their stuff. I tried looking for a set in the basement and every closet in the school, but I guess we don’t have any.”

“No, I don’t think so, sorry . . . Oh, wait a second, maybe I do.” Brian went through a door into his garage, and rummaged through a disorderly stack of old carpenter’s tools and his ex-wife’s gardening equipment. Sure enough, at the very bottom of the pile was a pair of bolt-cutters. He picked them up, chortling. “Yeah, I found them. Actually, I borrowed them from the school when I still worked there, and I guess I just completely forgot to bring them back.”

“You didn’t!” Rosa laughed. “You thief, you better go turn yourself in!”

“Shhhh, I don’t have to if nobody knows. . . .”

“But I know, so now what will you do?”

“I trust you can keep a secret for me? Think of it as a favor for and old friend or something. I am helping you get these lockers open, after all,” Brian smiled.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t need your help right now!” she argued.

“And if not for you, my phone wouldn’t have vibrated off the counter and broke,” he argued back.

“Fine, I suppose I can keep your secret,” she eventually said. “Just make sure you drop the cutters off tomorrow morning.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“Hey, one more thing before you go, I just noticed a phone number on one of the women’s room stalls a few minutes ago, and I’m pretty sure it’s yours, though I have no idea how it ended up there. You want me to see if I can scrub it off? Or, maybe at least just scribble it out?”

“No, that’s okay. Believe it or not, I actually enjoy the sporadic calls I get—they make my life a little more interesting.”

“Whatever you say. Now what the heck is this thing . . .” Rosa trailed off. There was a shuffling sound out of the iPhone. Brian listened curiously. There was a loud groan and then her voice came back with a nuance of annoyance: “Goddamn these children!”

“What happened?” Brian inquired.

“One of the little terrors broke the lock off this stall!” she fumed. “Jesus, what is the problem with these students?”

Brian laughed again. “It sounds like you’ve got lot on your plate at the moment, so I’ll let you go now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye Brian, see you tomorrow.”

Brian ended the call there, then pushed the sleep button on the top of the phone.

And the damaged radioactive device in his hands was dormant at last.