Beep

The red glass built over the lamp is actually hand crafted by an old glass-blower. It is a work of art in itself, but neither of the men currently in the room knows that. Had they known they would not care. Earl would care, but he would not admit it. The glass is framed by a black ring made of excellent plastic: heat resistant and truly almost everlasting. It has not even started to shown signs of any kind of withering, even after all these years. Around the plastic frame there is cold steel. Simple, yet strong. You  have to kick it very hard before it will bend even slightly. Twenty centimeters above the red glass there is a text written on the steel: ”The Red Light” the text says. Compared to the glass and even the steel it is a very shoddy: lazily done by someone with a very, very lacking character, and he – because it most definitely is a he – has thick glasses and is probably of above average intelligence but of lower than average personality, which shows in his lazy handwriting, which is made thickly with a cheap marker. The man in question in Carl. Carl is a hunchback.

Some one hundred centimeters or so to the right of the red glass there is a ninety degree turn which is what marks the beginning of an adjoining wall. Literally the only thing of interest on that wall is a window – fifty times eighty centimeters, single glass – out of which one can only see a red brick wall of bad manufacture. The wall is five hundred and twenty centimeters long. Some one hundred and fifty centimeters above the red glass there is another as close to ninety degree turn as one can expect, marking the beginning of the roof. Some one hundred centimeters below the red light is the fourth eighty nine degree turn, marking the beginning of the floor. The roof is in excellent condition, the steel unspoiled by hands and even looks. There are three lights embedded in the roof, hidden behind smoked glass so as to provide a pleasant slightly brooding light. The hue is slighted towards brown. The steel floor is scratched and coffee-stained, most of which has been done to the poor floor by the heavy-set Earl. Earl has no real hair.

Some one hundred centimeters or so to the left of the red glass there is also an approximately ninety degree turn, which mark the beginning of the opposite adjoining wall. That wall has many interesting dials on it which measures many interesting things, the biggest being twenty centimeters across and the smallest being seven centimeters across. Sadly, the dials end after two hundred centimeters and makes room for a door. The door is made of two sheets of solid steel and is filled with concrete. It is a thick and heavy door, and it is ninety five centimeters wide and two hundred and ten centimeters high. The handle, which is shaped like a dragon eating a dog and is slightly to big for comfort is located on the far right side of the door. The hinges are of excellent manufacture so it is surprisingly easy to handle, unless one happens to be a small child which has been tested and found to be correct. Beyond the door continues the wall which now is of no interest for fifty centimeters or so until the desk starts which extends to the point when an adjoining wall appears in a ninety degree fashion. The desk if of plywood or poor manufacture, and it is really just a sheet of cheap plywood on four wooden pegs. On the wall facing the wall with the red glass which is the wall which Carl and Earl is facing there is a small radiator plugged into the extension cord which is connected to the single power outlet in the room which is located in the corner to the left of the door. On the miserable plywood sheet stands two computers on top of which stands two monitors in front of which sits Carl and Earl. Carl sits to the right of Earl and Earl sits to the right of Carl, which is the side closest to the door. They have chairs that swivels quite freely. The chairs are stuffed and soft but the stuffing in Earls chair has suffered from his increasing weight. There are two keyboards in front of the monitor, one of which currently is being used to plagiarize a tale of mystery and murder. The other keyboard is silent. Earl is sleeping.

”Beep.”

Carl turns swivels around in his chair and looks at the red glass under which the lamp is glowing thus shining a red light which Carl is now looking upon. Carl is sweating very slightly and his face puts on an annoyed look which is mostly made out of eyebrows. He swivels towards Earl, grabs his left shoulder and shakes him violently.

”Whahu?” says Earl sleepily. His red eyes, even redder than they even usually are, looks at Carl.
”The light is on.” says Carl, cooly, in control, so very much in control.
”Unnppffhble.” says Earl and swivels around to look at the red lamp beneath the red glass which he is admiring in secret. When his eyes has managed to focus on the light, he says. ”What?” He is slightly more awake than a few moments ago.
”The red light. It’s on.” says Carl and points at the red light. His control over what constitutes his own universe is still within his greasy grasp.
”So?” says Earl, dumbfounded.
”It’s on. It’s THE red light.” says Carl. He is not wearing the look of eyebrow annoyance but has unfortunately taken on an experimental look of helpfulness which also is made of eyebrows. His forehead is slightly moist with sweat-moist.
”I know it’s THE read light.” says Earl with a truly annoyed tone in his voice. His face has no way of expressing eyebrows, so he uses his pleasant baritone to convey his meanings instead. ”Haven’t you ever wondered what it’s for?”
”I have never wondered what is is for.” lied Carl as he did not want to seem interested to Earl as that would be a moral defeat one which Carl would not be able to accept even in his strangest dreams he is sometimes writing about when he is not plagiarizing murder-fiction. His eyebrows waggled slightly too hysterically even for the hair-lacking Earl.
”I just wonder what it does.” says Earl, ignoring Carls eyebrows and the moisture of his sweat-moist.
”It goes beep.” Carl smiles weakly which is something he has learned from his murder stories of murder and mystery. Earl scowls as well as an eyebrow-lacking man can.
”Funny.” he rumbles in the deepest register he has access to.
”Yes.” says Carl but ironically.
”Let’s go.” says Earl and rumbles up from his chair. He grasps the dragon-handle, pushes it down and swings the door open, outwards as it only goes, on its well-made, soundless hinges. He steps out in the corridor, and Carl follows him.

The door is at the end of a corridor about one hundred and ninety centimeters wide and two hundred and ten centimeters high. The walls, floor and roof are of an unknown material, but they are painted in a bright green color. The corridor is close to one hundred and fifty meters long, and every three meters there is a bright light which is taken and whose beam is narrow embedded in the roof.  The walls and roof is without fault except for the brown spot where Earl spilled some coffee some six months ago. The floor is quite badly scratched and the paint is peeling, revealing gray of an unknown matter. One lamp exactly halfway through the corridor is flickering. On the other side of the corridor is another heavy steel door of exactly the same design as the door at the other end of the corridor, but on the handles on this one the dog eats the dragon. Earl pushed down the dog-dragon handle and opens the door which also hinges on excellent, well-oiled hinges.

Inside there is a room which is an exact mirror of the room in which Earl and Carl works, with the only difference being the wall on which the red glass under which the lamp is hidden is located. The text, still as shoddy and character-destroying as in the room in which the red glass under which there is a lamp is located, reads: ”The Levers of the Red Light”. There are two levers, one being approximately thirty centimeters from the wall to the left of the levers and the other being approximately thirty centimeters from the wall to the right of the levers. Both levers are approximately one hundred centimeters from the approximately ninety degree turn which marks the floor and approximately one hundred fifty centimeters from the approximately ninety degree turn which marks the roof. The levers are of very solid make. They have a single bar – round and about fifty millimeters thick – made of stainless steel with a red knob on the end. The bars are thirty two centimeters long, the entire lever being thirty six centimeters long. The knobs look untouched, which they are not but not far from. They are pointing down. Earl walks to the one on the right side of the left one and Carl walks to the one on the left side of the right one. They look at each other with peculiarly blank faces.

”One, two, three, pull!” they both say and pull up the levers. After two seconds relays start to click inside the walls, and after ten seconds of furious clicking the levers sink down again. Earl and Carl look at each other, nods, and walks out of the room. Carl walks first, Earl follows him. When they reach the room with the red glass under which there is a lamp Carl sits down on his chair and Earl sinks down on his chair which makes a very sad noise. Carl looks at his screen, reading what he last wrote in his plagiarized mystery story with mystery and murder. Earl soon snores gently.

”Beep.”

Annonser
Beep