Copier Repairman

Samuel’s face grew paler and paler with each iteration.

“It’s all right,” he told himself. “We couldn’t have known, could we?” He patted himself on the shoulder. It wasn’t very comforting. He’d tried everything. None of the buttons worked. The cord shocked him if he touched it.

He recalled the circuit breakers in the basement. Samuel had to shove himself out of the way to get to the stairs. The office was getting crowded.

“Better hurry,” Samuel called from the machine as it spat out another copy, this one nearly featureless and white as bone. “We’re running out of toner.”