by Amy Cross
“Can't we just take it back to the store?” she asks wearily. “If we can't get it running tonight, I'm gonna have to go to the library in the morning and print stuff out there.” She looks up at me. “I know you don't like to give in to these things, but... It is just a printer.”
“It's never just a printer,” I point out, stepping around her and double-checking that she's got everything plugged in properly. “We're two smart, capable human beings. We can fix this.”
“I guess I could ask Matt from the gym to stop by tomorrow and take a look.”
I check the USB cable for a moment, before glancing at her. “Who?”
“He's this guy from the gym. He's always lifting weights, he's really into it. We chat sometimes, and I think he mentioned he works for an electronics company. I bet if I ask him, he'd be happy to come over and get the thing up and running. Matt's probably know what to do.”
“Here?” I ask. “In our... bedroom?”
She shrugs. “Unless you've got any more ideas.”
Hearing a bump from the front room, I realize Josh has been left alone for a few minutes now. Someone should probably go make sure he's okay, but I feel like I can't quite abandon the printer situation just yet. Suddenly everything Magnus said earlier seems a lot more relevant.
“Why don't you go check on Josh,” I tell Mary, “and leave me to fix this thing? I promise you, there's no need to bring some stranger from the gym into our bedroom. I'm more than man enough.” As she gets up, I take her place on the chair. “I'm going to fix this machine, and I'm going to fix it right now. By the end of the evening, we'll have full printing capabilities once again.”
She sighs. “The store's open until eight. You could just -”
“I'm going to master this device,” I add, interrupting her as I stare at the printer and try to work out where to start. “I'm not the kind of man who backs down from a challenge. This machine will not defeat me. I purchased it, it's my servant, and I'm going to establish my authority.”
“Whatever,” she mutters, kissing the top of my head before heading to the doorway. “Just remember, it really is just a printer, and it's not worth spending all this time trying to get it working. If you don't have any luck tonight, I'll call Matt and get him to swing by tomorrow while you're at work. I'm sure he'll know what all the buttons do.”
“That will not be necessary,” I whisper under my breath, as I start tapping cautiously at the machine's menu system, hoping that I might accidentally get it working. “I'm gonna show this thing who's the boss around here, and that's final. I'm not going to let a stupid printer defeat me.”
Chapter Four
“Is it working?” Mary calls out an hour later, hurrying through from the front room. “Steve? I hear the sound of printing!”
“I think we have lift-off,” I reply, unable to stifle a hint of pride as I listen to the machine buzzing and whirring. “It definitely seems more -”
Suddenly a sheet of paper slides from the tray, feeding into the gubbins. There are definitely a lot of working parts moving about under the hood, but I'm cautiously optimistic that somehow I've managed to get it up and running.
“It's printing!” I stammer, barely able to believe my luck. “It's actually printing!”
“What did you do?” Mary asks excitedly.
“I...” To be honest, I have no idea what changed. I'd just about given up, but now the goddamn thing seems to have decided it's going to cooperate. “It's complicated,” I tell her, affecting an air of casual expertise. “I don't want to bore you with the details.”
“Well, I'm sorry I ever doubted you,” she replies, putting her hands on my shoulders from behind before leaning down and kissing the top of my head. “My husband, the genius. I had no idea you were a tech guy.”
“It wasn't that hard,” I reply. “I knew I could do it, I just needed a little peace and quiet. The whole thing was common sense, really.”
We watch in awed silence for a couple of minutes as the printer continues to flash and whir. I guess it's kind of pathetic that we're both so pleased to have succeeded, but sometimes it's the small victories that count. Finally the sheet of paper starts to feed back out, and I feel a rush of relief as I see actual ink. The printer has bent to my will and done its job, and I am its master.
“What are you printing, anyway?” Mary asks. “There should be a ton of worksheets in its memory. I tried a bunch more times today.”
“I just sent a sheet with a few words,” I reply, “but...”
My voice trails off as I see that the printer is actually delivering some kind of full-page, A4-sized image. In fact, it seems to be printing out a photo. Leaning forward, I tilt my head and watch as the page continues to slowly feed out, and finally I realize that I'm looking at a photo of our bedroom.
“That's weird,” I mutter. “Why's it doing that?”
“Maybe you accidentally hooked it up to the web-cam.”
I glance at the camera, but it's aimed straight at me whereas the picture seems more focused toward the doorway. After a moment, however, the page slides all the way out and I see that although it's showing our bedroom, there are a few pretty major differences. For one thing, there's a completely different bed and duvet; for another, the picture shows a larger, more ornate wardrobe with mirrored doors, which is nothing like the Ikea set-up we've got in the far corner.
“What's that?” Mary asks, reaching past me and grabbing the page. When she holds it up, I see that the photo shows several items of clothing on top of the duvet, and I swear I've never seen any of them before.
“Maybe the toner's low,” I suggest, although I know that's no explanation. In fact, the more I look at the photo, the more I realize that there are lots of other small, subtle oddities.
Different pictures on the walls.
Different pillows.
Different items on the nightstand.
I turn and glance back across the room, just to make sure I'm not going crazy, and then I look at the picture again.
“Oh well,” Mary mutters, setting it down, “at least we know the thing actually prints. Can you check to see if those worksheets are somewhere in its memory, and then print them? That'd be really useful, honey.”
She kisses the top of my head again, before heading back out of the room. A moment later, I hear her talking to Josh in the front room. She seems pretty happy with the situation, as if she's not too concerned by the weirdness of the details.
Picking up the print-out, I can't help staring at it for a moment, trying to work out where the hell it got this photo, and why it seems to show our bedroom with just a few weird, subtle changes. Just as I'm about to set it down, however, I spot something else. At the very bottom of the picture, there's a hint of a shadow, as if someone was standing just out of shot when the picture was taken.
Chapter Five
“We're both so proud of you,” Mary says with a smile, as she holds Josh's drawing up for me to see. “Look at this, honey. Josh got a gold star at school today for this picture of us!”
Forcing myself to stop thinking about the weird printer, I turn and see my son's work. He's drawn a picture of our apartment, with four figures standing next to it. I mean, it's a kid's drawing, so it's kind of scrappy and basic, but it's still good to see that he's getting on okay at his new school.
“That's great,” I reply, trying to seem enthusiastic. “Gold star, huh? Good going, buddy.”
“So that's Mummy and Daddy,” Mary continues, pointing at the picture, “and Josh, is that you?”
He nods.
She points at the fourth figure. “And who's that?”
“That's Grandma Kate.”
Mary hesitates for a moment, before glancing at me as if she's not quite sure what to say. I simply shrug, and she turns back to Josh.
“It's really sweet that you still think of her as being part of our family,” she says cautiously. “I'm sure she's looking down now and she's very proud of you.”
“I don't think she l
ikes this apartment as much as our last one,” Josh replies.
“She -” Mary pauses again. “Well, I'm sure she'd like it just fine, but Grandma Kate passed away before we moved here. We talked about that, remember?”
He nods. “She still likes the old apartment more.”
Mary glances at me again, and I can see she's a little uncomfortable. Her mother died a year ago, and it's only in recent months that she's managed to start getting over the loss.
“That's sweet,” I tell Josh, as I get to my feet. “I'm just gonna go check on that printer again. I've had a few ideas about what it's doing.”
“You think about Grandma Kate a lot, don't you?” Mary asks Josh as I head out of the room. “You really miss her, huh? We all do. She was very special.”
“She doesn't like where we're living now,” he replies matter-of-factly. “I can tell, because she seems angry.”
***
“Maxinomoticon MXN-3550,” I whisper, as I check the back of the printer's box one more time. “Printer, scanner, copier.”
Unfortunately, that's the only piece of text on the entire box that's written in English. The rest is in Japanese, Chinese, something like that, and I don't even know where to begin translating any of the words. Turning the box over, I look for any other information that might help, and then I reach in and remove the single sheet of paper that came in place of an actual manual.
“Maxinomoticon,” I read from the bottom of the page, “Kobinhayi.”
I frown.
“Kobinhayi?”
Typing those words into the computer, I bring up a search engine and try to find some kind of web-page that might help with the troubleshooting process. It's hard to believe that no-one else in the entire world has ever bought one of these machines, or that they've never had to seek help online, but there's no mention of the company or its products, not even on any forums. I swear, it's almost as if we have the only Maxinomoticon printer in the entire world.
“Lucky us,” I mutter. “I guess we -”
Before I can finish, the printer suddenly starts flashing again. I lean over and take a look at the panel, and sure enough it seems that another file is being processed. After double-checking that there's paper in the drawer, I sit back and listen to the series of whirring noises that seem to indicate an imminent print-out. A moment later, I hear paper being fed through the wheels, and the printing begins. I guess maybe Mary's worksheets are finally coming through, although I checked a few minutes ago and they definitely weren't listed in the document queue. I was starting to think they'd vanished into the ether.
“Is some asshole on our wi-fi?” I ask out loud, turning to the computer and bringing up the network manager. I run a search for devices, but there's nothing I don't recognize. Still, people can be sneaky, and I wouldn't put it past one of our neighbors to have started taking advantage.
Glancing at the printer, I see that it seems to be printing another photo of the bedroom.
For the next couple of minutes, I try everything to locate the intruder on our wi-fi network. After all, the only possible explanation for this madness is that someone in one of the neighboring apartments is 'borrowing' our bandwidth and has accidentally started sending their pictures to our printer. In fact, that might even explain the fact that the pictures look like our bedroom, since I guess all the apartments in this block have more or less the same layout. The more I think about it, the more certain I am that I've finally found an explanation for this little mystery.
As the printer finishes its job, I grab the piece of paper and see that it's another photo of the room, although this time I can't help noticing that the lighting is different, as if the picture was taken during an evening.
It's evening right now.
Studying the picture more closely, I notice that there are no longer clothes on the bed. Instead, they've all been tossed down onto the floor, while the duvet has been pulled aside and the nightstand in the corner appears to have been knocked over.
“Great,” I say with a sigh. “Scenes from someone else's very boring, very messy life.”
I pause for a moment, still trying to come up with a eureka moment, before getting to my feet and heading to the front door. If I'm right about where the pictures are coming from, there should be one very simple test that'll identify the culprit, and I sure as hell don't intend to just sit here and let someone screw us over like this. If someone's leeching on our system, we'll hit our cap way before the end of the month.
“I'm just popping out for a moment,” I tell Mary as I slip into my shoes. “I've had an idea. I want to check if I'm right.”
“It's almost nine,” she calls back to me. “Where are you going?”
“Visiting the neighbors,” I reply, opening the door and stepping out into the corridor, with the print-out in my hand. “Let's see which of them thinks it's okay to steal our internet.”
Chapter Six
“I really thought I had it figured out,” I say with a sigh, as I lean back in bed. “I was convinced it had to be one of them, but I knocked on every door and...”
I pause, before sighing again as I stare at the printer on the opposite side of the bedroom. Having spent the past half hour going from door to door, checking all five of the other apartments to see if any of them has anything to do with our problem, I feel as if I've made a fool of myself. I'm sure everyone else in this building thinks I'm some kind of lunatic, even though I was extremely polite the whole time.
“That thing is mocking me,” I whisper. “It's setting me up. You were right, it really is the printer from hell.”
“Nobody's mocking you,” Mary replies, taking the print-out from my hand and placing it on the nightstand, before leaning closer and kissing my bare chest. “Did I ever tell you that you're very handsome when you're fixing our appliances?”
“As hot as Matt from the gym?” I ask with a faint smile.
“Hotter,” she grins, slipping a hand under the duvet and down toward my boxers. At the same time, she presses her body against mine, and I realize exactly what's on her mind. “It's been a while,” she whispers, kissing my chest again. “Too long, in fact. We've had so much going on, and I've missed you.”
“I've missed you too,” I reply, and finally we kiss the way we haven't kissed in a long, long time. Reaching my hand under her shirt, I fumble for her breast and -
Suddenly the printer bursts to life, flashing and blinking and whirring on the desk.
“What the hell?” Mary hisses, as we both turn and look over at the infernal machine. “Seriously? Right now? It has to do that right now?”
“Hang on,” I mutter, climbing out of bed and heading over. “I could've sworn I left it unplugged.”
Crouching down, I look under the desk, only to find that the plug is back in the socket.
“Honey,” I say with a sigh, “did you turn it back on?”
When she doesn't reply, I turn to her.
“Did you?” I ask.
“Why the hell would I even touch that thing?” she asks, rolling her eyes as she re-buttons her shirt. “It gives me the creeps. Turn it off.”
I reach for the plug, before realizing that I can hear the tell-tale sound of paper starting to feed through the machine.
“Turn it off!” Mary says again.
“Wait,” I reply, “it's printing another page.”
“So?”
“So don't you want to see what comes out this time?”
Getting to my feet, I wait as the printer finally delivers its third picture, and sure enough it's another photo of the bedroom. Well, almost the bedroom. As I pick the piece of paper up and turn it around, I see that this time the duvet is missing and the entire bed seems to have been stripped down, while the nightstand has been righted. In fact, it looks like someone has been trying to clean up the mess from the previous picture. At the same time, the entire scene just doesn't seem right somehow, and after a moment I notice that there are some brown and red smears on the walls.
“I don't get it,” I say after a moment, looking back down at the printer. “It just seems to randomly spew out one of these pictures every few hours.”
“Are you sure it isn't from one of the neighbors' apartments?” Mary asks.
“I'm sure. I guess it's possible that someone's mixed up in our signal from a different building, but I wouldn't have thought the range would be big enough.” I stare at the picture for a few more seconds, hoping that some simple explanation will suddenly leap out at me.
“It's really starting to freak me out,” Mary says after a moment. “I just want rid of it.”
“Maybe there's a crossed connection somewhere,” I continue, tapping the space bar on the computer and waking it from sleep, and then immediately bringing up the word processor program. “If we're getting someone else's print-outs, maybe they're getting ours.”
“Seriously?”
“To whomever it may concern,” I read out loud as I type a quick message. “We're in apartment four. If you receive this print-out, please let us know. We've been getting yours in return. Thanks. Steve and Mary Holland.”
After plugging the USB back into the side of the computer, I print the message. Sure enough, there's no sign of it arriving at the printer.
“You didn't just send that to them, did you?” Mary asks.
I turn to her. “Why shouldn't I?”
“With our names and everything?” She visibly shudders. “That's so creepy.”
“What exactly do you think is gonna happen?” I ask, amused by her jitters. “Some weirdo from another apartment is gonna coming knocking on our door?”
“I just don't like it,” she continues. “If the printer is mixed up with someone else's, then that other person is getting everything we try to send through. Whoever they are, I don't like the idea of them knowing who we are and where to find us.”
“It's worth a shot,” I mutter, before crouching down and pulling the plug from the socket. This time I slide the plug well away, so that there's no doubt the goddamn printer has no power, and then I head back over to the bed. “Then again, the other possibility is that maybe the guy in the store lied to me. Maybe it's a used machine after all.”
