In the depths of the Bangor Daily News office, in the far corner beyond sports, news and even the copy desk is a corner office. My corner office. ... OK, Roxanne, Ardeana and my corner office. Behind me, lurking is Ardeana. She has barricaded herself behind two large desks, peering out into the newsroom, but not to be seen by reporters. The most peculiar thing by far about the weaker of the two desk-barricades is the crank. It's a small crank, attached to the top of the two-level desk. It's black and sleek. The top, where a hand would grab, is shaped like a hot air balloon, forever stuck. "What does the crank do?" I asked her. I hoped with all my strength that the answer would be something evil and cunning. A crank that started a device Edgar Poe wrote about in Pit and the Pendelum. Something that would trigger more cranks that would yank at ropes in the basement -- a basement filled with old press machines -- yank at ropes attached to human limbs to rip them apart. "It raises this part of my desk for ergonomics."
Stupid question.
Stupid question.
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