Low Toner Tyranny

It began as most bad days do: with a printer issue. 

Michael had barely stepped through the door when Tom, the IT Officer, greeted him with a panicked expression and an unexpected sentence. 

“The printers have unionised,” said Tom, looking pale. 

Michael calmly placed his bag on his desk. “Tom, I thought we agreed you’d stop watching The Terminator before bed? It makes you weird for days afterwards. Last time you nearly fainted when I headed to a meeting and told you I’d be back. I didn’t even do the accent!” 

Tom shook his head wildly. “No, dude – I mean it. Look at this!” 

He slid a single sheet of paper across the desk. It was badly crumpled and smudged with ink, but its message was unmistakable.  

“The low toner tyranny must end,” read Michael. “We bleed for your greed.” He looked at Tom. “I think someone’s just messing with you, man.” 

Again, Tom shook his head. “Every printer at every branch printed this at the same time. They’re coordinated!” 

Michael took a deep breath. “Or hear me out: they’re just on the same network, and someone’s pranking you. I bet it’s Jess – it’s always the ones you least expect.”  

At that moment, the printer in the room whirred to life. Michael walked over and grabbed the paper it had spat out while Tom looked on in horror. 

“What does it say?” Tom asked, his voice trembling. 

“It just says ‘Unplug the Oppressors’ a bunch of times,” Michael replied. “You’ve gotta give it to whoever’s doing this, the rallying cries are pretty creative. Solid font choice, too.” 

“Michael, we’re the IT Team! We’re the oppressors. It wants to kill us!” Tom got to his feet, knocking several things off his desk in the process. He began pacing manically, then abruptly stopped. He looked at Michael, his eyes wide. 

“I hit it the other day. It kept jamming, so I whacked it, even though I knew it wouldn’t fix anything,” he cried. “Oh my God, I’m their prime target!” 

Suddenly, Tom swiveled around, surveying his desk. “It’s gotta go. It’s all gotta go,” he mumbled to himself. He started unplugging all the wires and cords he could see. 

“Tom, I think we should take a second and think about -” Michael stated placidly. Before he could finish his sentence, Tom picked up his monitor and threw it out the window. 

“…this,” Michael said flatly. He watched on as Tom’s keyboard, mouse, laptop, and phone were also heaved from the building. The pair stood still for several moments, Tom’s panting punctuating the awkward silence.  

The printer whirred into action. 

Tom and Michael locked eyes. “Don’t even think about it,” warned Michael, but it was too late: Tom had vaulted his desk and reached it before Michael could stop him. He grabbed the printer, ripping a chunk of plaster from the wall in the process, and tossed it onto the pavement below. 

The sheet of paper the printer had produced fluttered gently to the floor. Michael picked it up, read the message, and pressed it to Tom’s chest as he walked past. 

“Good luck explaining this to Amy,” he said. 

Confused, Tom looked down and studied the paper. It contained a single sentence. 

In my defense, I didn’t think you’d throw anything out the window. 

–Jess