Chapter 4: Edge of the Envelope

I spent Saturday afternoon in the power suit learning to walk forward. Serenity had a kill switch connected to me via an umbilical, and I was under strict orders not to try to jump, walk backwards, or stand on one leg. I complained of course, but her reply put me in my place.

"Just be glad you're not starting out with crawling, like most babies do."

"Yes coach," I replied. Walking was okay. Walking was good. Walking was one step away from running.

Once walking seemed natural, we moved to the simulator. It seemed a little backwards, but Serenity insisted that the real world walking experience would help with the transitions to other modes of travel in the simulator. In the simulator I was able to try all those modes of locomotion I'd been denied in the suit, starting with learning to balance on one leg, then the other.

"The biggest problem is that your muscles have one idea of what they need to do to achieve a particular action and the suit has another. Your muscles are a smart system, and so is the suit. Just as your muscles will adjust to what they need to do when in the suit, the suit will adjust itself towards what you are trying to do. If everything goes smoothly, the time in the simulator will allow the two systems to meet in the middle somewhere and smoothly, we hope, achieve a compromise that is complete enough to become transparent to both of you. That happens and bang, you have integrated your actions with the suit functions."

"I always wanted to be integrated," I said. Too bad she couldn't see me sticking out my tongue after I said it.

The weekend helped me forget that I had actually asked Rebecka to dinner, and that she had accepted, but Monday morning was a big reminder when she stopped by my desk and asked if I'd thought of a place to go.

"Ahh, no actually, I kind of got buried in some technical journals and spent the weekend poring over schematics and articles on semiconductors."

"You study technical journals?" Rebecka asked in a very surprised voice.

"Yeah, I was going to study electronics if things had gone differently for me, but instead, I got this chair, this job and electronics as a hobby instead of a career," I explained.

"Oh, thats sad!" Rebecka said sympathetically.

"No!" I corrected. "Along with all those things came meeting you!"

That brought out a mutual blush, and before I could react, a kiss to the cheek and when I was once again aware of my surroundings rather than the tingle on my cheek, she was gone.

I may have been a desk jockey, but I wasn't a managerial desk jockey, so I had some real work to do that morning, but as soon as it was break time I headed out for the newsstand in the lobby, looking for the Sunday papers that I'd forgotten about while off at the Iron Man lair learning how to walk. Funny I know, to think that a newspaper office had a newsstand in it, but we did share the building with other offices, and the stand carried more than just the Star, including a good selection of magazines and paperback books.

"Morning Spider, what brings you to my stand on a Monday morning?" Kenny the news man asked. It occurred to me that I had no idea what Kenny's last name was, or even if he liked to be called Kenny. Everyone called him that though. He had to be in his fifties though, so I decided to ask.

"Do you like being called Kenny?"

"You came down here to ask me that?"

"No, I came looking to see if you still had any of the weekend papers, but I thought about your name when you were saying good morning, and it suddenly occurred to me I didn't know," I explained.

"Sure, I've got the Star and the Herald both. What're you looking for?"

"Restaurants. Nice ones. I've got a date Thursday night."

"Restaurants, eh? You want to impress this girl by taking her to a great place with great food, or impress her with a place with high prices and upper crust atmosphere?"

"Great place and food, for sure," I answered with a laugh. "I can't afford the other option."

"Okay, then forget the papers, let me get you a reservation at Torrento's. My cousin Sal is the maitre de there. You'll love the place, and they treat you good there."

He picked up the phone and began to dial. "Oh and call me Ken if you'd like. What time you want to eat?"

"We were thinking around six or six thirty, maybe have a drink first?"

"No problem, I'll tell Sal to save you a bottle of the good stuff, okay?"

"Thanks Ken," I said, and boy, did I mean it! By the time my break was over, I had a reservation for six thirty and an address for Torrento's, which was actually not far from the office. I could only hope that Rebecka hadn't already been there, or, if she had, loved the place.

I may have mentioned that I hate my job, and its true, I do. I love where I work though, and the people I work with, although there are some, Like Brian Kennedy in accounting, who I could not force myself to like at all.

Because I hate my job, I apply for every job the company advertises that I feel I come even close to qualifying for. Very often these jobs are completely outside my areas of experience, but I figured pretty much everything was outside my area of expertise.

Wednesday, I got called into the office to have a chat with Bob Enright, my boss.

"First things first, Ceferino," He said, waiving me towards a chair. I wheeled myself into position beside the chair in front of his desk. "You applied for the assistant copy editor's position, and I want to let you know that you will not be interviewed for the position. There were just too many applicants with experience above you, son."

"I understand," I said, meaning it. I had known a couple of those applying, and I knew they were both far more qualified than I was. The application had been more a statement about my current job than it was a desire to have that one in particular.

"But, we have been impressed with your job performance, and I at least, feel like you are capable of more. Obviously you think so as well."

"Yes sir, I do." I answered, even though it had been more of a statement than a question.

"With that in mind, I went ahead and entered your name into the pool of applicants for a new management training program that's due to start up in a couple of weeks. What do you think of that?"

"Management training? As in training to be a manager?"

"Exactly. Would it bother you to move into the management side of things?"

There were some unspoken things in that question. Like a lot of newspapers, ours was heavily unionized. The people in my department weren't unionized, but most of the staff in the editorial and production sides were. Would I be willing to be on the other side of a picket line if it came down to it? That was the real question being asked. I thought about that. My only loyalties were to the people I worked with, and even those who were friends but not direct
co-workers were non-union.

"No, I don't think so. I might disagree, morally or philosophically with the paper's position in a dispute, but I think that someone would have to really be trying hard to screw the workers over for it to become something I'd have a problem with."

"Fair enough. So are you willing to go through the program?"

"What all is involved. I won't have to move, will I?"

"No, but you'll be going to Hartford for two weeks for orientation, and then you'll come back to your old job until a training position comes available. That part of the program is still being developed, but the idea is that we will be finding temporary positions for the trainees to receive on the job managerial experience, usually alongside a mentor. Those positions haven't been identified yet, so once the two week course is complete it could be quite a while before the second phase of the training gets going."

"The managerial positions could be anywhere?" I asked, suddenly realizing that we were part of a newspaper chain. We weren't talking just Kansas City here.

"Yes, it would definitely be someplace other than here. The idea is to get people away from their normal work environments and away from the people they know, reducing that sort of influence on the outcome will be important."