Short story: The Waiting Room

I'm pretty sure I wrote this one in four hours on a Junior Officer of the Deck watch while I was on USS Boxer. It would make sense, considering the subject matter; a man sitting around waiting for nothing pretty much sums up any JOOD watch anywhere. I think I started to work on a "Further Adventures of Waiting Room Man" story at one point, but decided it was best to leave him to his magazine. I'm also pretty sure this story is about 75-78% expletives, so, fair warning.

The Waiting Room

It’s a waiting room.

Hell, I mean. Hell is a waiting room. One of those generic rooms with months-old Good Housekeeping and Highlights for Kids and chairs that are nice at first, but more and more uncomfortable with each passing hour.

It could be a doctor’s office waiting room. The off person coughs and sniffles every now and again, but it could also be a car dealership, or a dentist’s office, or a counselor’s office, or all of them at the same time, but it doesn’t really matter. The fact is, it’s a waiting room, and you wait here forever, reading outdated articles or watching reruns of daytime television or twiddling your thumbs and beating off, but all you’re really doing is waiting.

And waiting.

And fucking waiting.

Do you know how fucking maddening it is to sit and wait for nothing to happen forever? For a month? A day? Five minutes? Pick one, anyone of them will do, because when you’re waiting on nothing, time loses all meaning, all relevance, if you’ll pardon the fucking pun.

I couldn’t begin to tell you how long I’ve been here, because I don’t know. You just got here, and already you’ve been here an age, probably a decade. Probably several.

Did you even know you were dead? No? Me neither. I can barely remember being alive anymore, and what I can remember, the clothes, the cars, food, sex, anything, well… Quite frankly, I’m worried I gleaned them all from the shit they keep running on the TV in the corner.

Other than that, I just remember walking through the door, and then the receptionist’s glass window opened, and she said to take a seat, that someone would be with me shortly. I didn’t know what I was waiting on, I just knew this was where I was, where I was supposed to be for that matter, and that sooner or later my number would be up for whatever. But look around; do you see a fucking door? Where did we come in?

I didn’t even notice their absence at first. What made me realize something was wrong was that I’d been here this whole time, and I wasn’t even hungry. Or thirsty. I wasn’t tired, I didn’t need to piss or shit, all I had was this mindless feeling of anxiety, that something was going to happen at some point, and I had to sit here and wait for it.

And wait.

I thought all of this was a dream for a very long time. No one ever says anything; they just sit there looking bored or nervous. Human beings don’t sit still that long, they just don’t have the patience. I tried talking to them, but they don’t want to. I thought they honestly didn’t know anything at first, that they were just as puzzled as I was, but I began to see it in their faces, the way they read and reread the same articles, how they avoided watching the TV, or looking at the reception window. They didn’t want to talk about it because they were scared of being dead.

So I thought they weren’t real, at first. The receptionist, I fucking know she ain’t real. She’s as much a part of the waiting room as that coffee pot over there that never fills up. It just keeps on brewing coffee that never touches the bottom of the pot, and she keeps sitting there motionless behind that frosted glass. You can see her behind it, just sitting there. I’d believe she disappears when the glass closes, if not for that silhouette. 

That’s it for the guardian of the afterlife, huh? What a laugh. No Saint Peter calling roll from the Book of Life, no angels with flaming swords, no fiery demons, just a vaguely robotic receptionist that tells you to “please take a seat and someone will be with you shortly” before the little window shuts in your face. Always the same damn answer, regardless of the question.

I called this place hell, but I meant it as an adjective, not a noun. I don’t believe this place is the biblical brimstone soul-locker, where unrepentant sinners burn in a lake of fire. For one thing, where’s the fucking fire? For another, where are the unholy torturing demons? And the population hardly fits the bill; look over there, that mother tending to her kids, or the old man reading the tract? What the fuck, Tina? And although I can’t be certain, I don’t feel like I could have been that awful of a person myself.

And isn’t that really the fuck of it? I can’t remember. How am I supposed to repent and atone for some sin I don’ t know about? It doesn’t make any sense, and that’s why I don’t think this place is supposed to be a punishment, though it’s a very fucking effective one all the same. I think maybe, what’s happening now is the result of the briefest afterthought any sentient creator could have had. That whatever fucked up science project good ol’ God had going, he didn’t think of what to do with the by-product. We’re like so much hazardous waste. We couldn’t be gotten rid of, just rounded up and stored in a safe place until he’s done playing ant-farm or whatever the fuck.

I know, I know, yes I have tried to escape. You can’t. You never know where the door is. I don’t even remember which side of the room I entered from. I could have descended from the ceiling or risen from the floor for fuck all, and I’ve never actually witnessed anyone come in. I’ll look up from one of these awful magazines and there will be another slightly confused-looking person sitting nearby.

When escape didn’t work, I tried to kill myself.  Let me tell you, nothing has ever been more difficult. First off, there’s nothing in this room sharp enough to slit my wrists, unless I wanted try paper cutting them. I tried shattering the coffee pot so I could use some glass shards for the job, but I couldn’t break it, no matter how hard I tried. Same thing with the receptionists’ window pane. I tried hitting the fucker with a chair, and all that happened was the bitch popped her head out to tell me to take a seat, and that someone would be with me shortly.

I tried strangling myself with my belt. No dice. I never strangled, no matter how long I cut my windpipe off. My lungs didn’t even start to burn. I’m pretty sure I could get into the Guinness Book of Records for holding my breath for eternity. I tried bashing my head against the walls and floor. My last attempt was a swan dive from the top of my chair, landing on my neck.

I’m still here.

I don’t think we have much longer to wait though. A couple of decades back I picked up the remote and changed the channel on the TV. CNN. I had a hard time making sense of it. Things had changed quite a bit since I’d died, and none of it for the good. Civil war, failed colonization of the moon (which would account for that poor group of folks in the space-suits over there,) religious groups blowing each other up, and a fat bunch of good it’s doing them, and all manner of crazy shit.

But the channel shortly changed back, and I haven’t seen the remote since.

You want to know the truth? It excited me. I’m fucking glad humanity is going to shit. It means that they’re exhausting their drastic measures, and it’s only a matter of time before somebody dusts off the controls to their nuclear arsenal and ends this God-awful (again, pardon the pun) experiment once and for all.

Or maybe it won’t be the end. Maybe we overestimated our importance in the whole thing, and the end of humanity isn’t the end of existence. At the very least, there will be a lot of new, interesting faces around here.

Can you hand me that National Geographic? I’ve had my eye on it, but that old lady has had it for an eternity.

What's two parts robo, one part cop?

       Somebody be as excited as I am for the upcoming Robocop remake, I dare you.

I fucking dare you.

Children of the late 80s have recently been treated (or subjected, depending on personal preference) to a spate of reboots and re-imaginings of the movies from our childhood. Transformers, Batman, and most recently, Judge Dredd, Total Recall, and even Red Dawn have all appeared in theaters with modifications and updates for the modern outlook of their aged fans (my god you guys are SO OLD.) With each preview, some part of me - I’d say inner child, but that implies I matured at some point - has given a small cheer, but the Robocop teaser should have come with a warning to consult a doctor in case of a prolonged erection.

What was it about a robotic police officer that excited me so much in my younger days? I suppose it was the idea that some day in the future, man could be merged with machine, creating something invincible, that someday, no matter what stupid thing I did to harm myself, they could rebuild me. They’d have the technology. Of course, as a child, I couldn’t comprehend the horrific struggle Alex Murphy, the Robocop project’s initial candidate went through in regaining his memories. I had no concept of how jarring it would be to go from emotionless machine to man-trapped-in-robot-body.

I just thought being able to shoot a bad guy while looking in the opposite direction was fucking neat.

"GOTCHA BITCH!"

I still do, but of course, now I really appreciate director Paul Verhoeven’s Robocop for it’s depth, satire, and that main villain Clarence Boddicker is played by Kurtwood Smith (Red Forman from That 70s Show.)

Not much has been released yet regarding the reboot save for some stills and concept videos, but from what I’ve seen so far, the film is going to have quite an updated look from its 20-plus-year-old predecessor. Let’s take a look at some of these differences.

The Machine:

The year 1985 was a long fucking time ago, and nothing indicates its vintage more than the original Robocop’s aesthetic.

At the time, automation of industrial processes by robots was becoming less of a fantastic idea and more of a solid reality. Repetitive tasks were being delegated to bulky machinery capable of precisely and tirelessly performing a set task, minimizing error while optimizing output. The idea that machines would slowly replace humans in jobs wasn’t new, but had taken on a dark popularity, as evidenced by the switch in outlook from the Jetsons-esque utopias depicted in earlier decades to the dirty, crowded, mechanized futures of films like Blade Runner and Total Recall.

Oddly enough, the creators of these films envisioned a future in which the technology existed to connect circuitry to nervous tissue, but not the capability of making the hardware of manageable size. Instead, my assumption is Edward Neumeier, the artist responsible for Robocop’s design, apparently studied the unwieldy robotics of the assembly line and cobbled a man from it. OG Robocop stood between six and seven feet tall, and was a machine approximation of the human body, finished in polished steel. His legs were decently in keeping with human anatomy (down to pneumatic calcaneal tendons,) but his torso was wide and deep, giving his head a sort of “I’ll just put this here” appearance, and his arms articulated slightly above where a human’s should.

The shiny finish of his armor, in conjunction with the oblong, skinny slot of transparent glass in his helmet give the impression of a sturdy, retro toaster, albeit a toaster that could kick your ass.

"YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO A BALANCED BREAKFAST."

New Robocop appears to be the anthropomorphization of an android smartphone (product placement, perhaps?) His body has a much sleeker, more slender frame, and is finished in a matte black, a visual next-door neighbor to the Batman costume of Christopher Nolan’s trilogy. Robocop’s new, non-reflective body would help give him the element of surprise over OGR’s blatant ‘HEY EVERYBODY, I’MA FUGGIN ROWWWBAAAAHT’ design (which always seemed counter-intuitive, but then, when you’re known for making distinct servo noises just audible over ground-shaking footsteps and shooting criminals in the dick, subtlety is clearly the least of your concerns.)

"BOOM! HEADSHOT!"

Human Features:

In Robocop (1985,) Detroit police officer Alex Murphy is brutally torn apart by repeated pistol and shotgun blasts, leaving almost nothing but a shot-up torso and head. We see snippets of Murphy’s transformation into Robocop from Murphy’s perspective as he is powered up for brief moments for diagnostic tests. During one of these periods of consciousness, we see a technician inform Robocop Project director Dick Jones that the team managed to save Murphy’s left arm. Jones tells the technician to ditch it, as they’ve decided on total body prosthesis.

They get what they ask for; the only visible vestige of Murphy’s body is his face, the majority of which is covered by his helmet. When the helmet is removed, Robocop’s face is creepier than his square pecs and missing dick combined. Murphy’s face was stretched over a metal skull, and when I say stretched, I mean Team Robocop put Joan Rivers’ plastic surgeon to shame. Robocop’s forehead is more uncomfortably long than the silence after an unexpectedly audible fart in a crowded elevator. Thankfully for most of the movie we’re treated to no more of his face than his mouth.

Though I’ve yet to see under new and improved Robocop’s helmet, I imagine they’ve dialed back the fo-hed some. His new helmet is an uninterrupted sheet of tinted, curved glass, but still shows no more of his face than mouth and jaw.

New Robocop boasts another unique feature: a single human hand, specifically his right. It’s an odd island of flesh in a sea of black armor, and the only excuse I can come up with for it is that if you’re going to leave the guy a nose, you’d be a bastard not to leave him something to pick it with. OGR’s hands were large, bludgeon-y things with Lincoln Log fingers, unfit for much more than holding his gun and punching through anything and everything. I’d think he’d be hesitant to scratch his cheek for fear of tearing his whole fucking face off, however, perhaps Robocop (2014) director Jose Padilha plans to focus on Murphy’s romantic barriers, and left the single hand so Murphy could, uh… caress a woman’s face.

OGR had his own means of pleasing the ladies.

"PREPARE TO INTERFACE... UH, 'BABY'."

The hand does a lot in humanizing the new Robocop’s look; when taken in with the sleek, body-shaped chassis, the whole thing appears to be a suit a man is wearing, rather than the body itself. The hand appears to extrude from a sleeve rather than attach to a wrist. The hand leaves a lot of questions: Is it actual bone and hand, or is it just his hand skin stretched over a robot hand? Does it have the same weaknesses as a human hand? What the hell is he going to need a human hand for now that his dick’s MIA? 

"I KNOW, HAND. I MISS HIM TOO."

     Ultimately there's still little information out about the new film, but it has a tentative release date of 2014. I don't do a lot of movies in the theater, but bet your ass I'm doing this one.

Tales from Navy: The 3M program

     I never really understood the term 'bureaucracy' until I joined the Navy (and apparently, I never knew how to spell it before a moment ago, when spellcheck informed me 'beaureacracy' isn't a word.) Before enlisting, the biggest form I'd filled out had been a W-2. In the Navy, I routed paperwork to request more paperwork. And that was just the admin side of things; a Sailor's true headache was performing preventive maintenance in accordance with the Material Maintenance Management (3M) program.

     The 3M program was a series of instructions and regulations put in place to provide a measure of accountability for the quality of maintenance performed by Sailors on a ship's systems. For my division, maintenance tasks could range from just turning a cooling fan off and back on to check if it's temperature gauge was stuck, to checking the readiness conditions of fire-extinguishers and emergency lighting. My division was full of media personnel, so our spaces didn't hold a lot of machinery. I shudder to think of what maintenance must have been like for the engineers, or the boatswains mates, for it's with these rate classes in mind that the program was conceived; the 3M program is in place to keep fuckoffs with huge demanding maintenance tasks from fucking off on their huge, demanding maintenance tasks. It accomplishes this by making the person assigned the maintenance jump through every hoop possible to complete their assignment. (It should be here noted that 3M is also referred to as the Preventive Maintenance System, and appropriately so. Anyone assigned maintenance was grouchy about it until someone else had to do it next cycle.)
     I understood the reasoning behind the 3M program. I still couldn't fucking stand it.

     The problem was, the system was created to keep major maintenance from being messed up, or "gun-decked," as it was colloquially known. Because my division had nothing bigger than a paper drill to work on, we had to perform the myriad instructions on the maintenance cards verbatim for the most mundane of tasks. We had a battle lantern card that basically had us walking from lantern to lantern with a magnetic rod, which we touched to each lantern to see if it worked. The sheet was two pages of instructions. Granted, these sheets also include the materials you need for the maintenance and their part numbers, but that in itself took time and effort. You had to go to supply or electrical tool issue or safety to get the gear you needed, and in some cases, had to submit paperwork signed by three different supervisors and yourself in order to get things you could not legally perform the maintenance without. Sometimes these people would be in completely opposite sides of the ship.
     I ended up creating a Maintenance Requirement Card for "Dick in a Box," and I'm going to copy paste it from Word below. Keep in mind, per the program's requirements, a Sailor must read and comply with the entire card every time the maintenance is performed, but not until the card itself is verified as current. This is accomplished by checking the MRC against the Maintenance Index Page. The MIP was then verified as current and valid by checking it against the List of Effective Pages. The LOEP was then verified as current and valid by checking it against the Force Revision page. Yep.

 
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT D:

Distribution authorized to DOD contractors only; Critical Technology; March 2010. Other requests for this document shall be referred to Naval Sea Systems Command (SEA 04RM). Destroy by any method that will prevent disclosure of contents or reconstruction of the document.

 

Date: March 2010              MIP         6900/004          PERIODICITY: R

                              SERIES:                      

 

Location: SEE EGL

 

MAINTENANCE REQUIREMENT DESCRIPTION

1.  Modify, stuff, and present adult-themed, multi-occasional gift.

 

SAFETY PRECAUTIONS

1.  Forces afloat comply with NAVOSH Program Manual for Forces Afloat, OPNAVINST 5100.19

2.  Avoid repeated or prolonged skin contact with hazardous materials. Wash affected areas with soap and water upon completion of task or prior to eating, drinking, smoking, or applying cosmetics or performing cunnilingus/fellatio.

3.  Do not use petroleum-based lubricants where it will come in contact with a bodily opening or orifice. Use water-based lubricants such as KY, or saliva.

 

TOOLS, PARTS, MATERIALS, TEST EQUIPMENT

MATERIALS

1.  [00173] Box, cardboard corrugated

2.  [00584] Tape, duct

3.  [01596] Grease, ball and roller bearing, DOD-G-24508

Hazardous Materials User’s Guide (HMUG) Group 8, Disposal Method 1

4.  [01102] Rag, wiping

TOOLS

1.  [00196] Scissors

2.  [00771] Lubricating gun, hand, Lever-operated, 16 OZ 12” rub hose ext & adpt kit incl

3.  [00271] Fleshlight, Type 3, style 1, explosive proof

4.  [02279] Rule, steel, machinist’s, 6” steel rule, grad=10ths &100ths, 32nds and 64ths

5.  [00123] Pen, felt-tip, permanent ink

MISCELLANEOUS

1.  [00517] Gloves, chemical and oil protective

2.  [03707] Goggles, industrial, non-vented

3.  [11922] Hazardous Materials User’s Guide (HMUG), OPNAVINST 5100.28

NOTE: Numbers in brackets can be referenced to Standard PMS Materials Identification Guide (SPMIG) for identification.

 

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HAZARDOUS MATERIALS CONTROL STATEMENT (U)

The Hazardous Materials User’s Guide (HMUG), OPNAVINST 5100.28, provides additional control measures, precautions, personal protective equipment (PPE), and spill controls for the hazardous material(s) identified in the Tools, Parts, Materials, Test, Equipment block. Maintenance personnel shall determine if additional PPE is necessary to accomplish the MRC and take appropriate action to obtain and wear such PPE to ensure the safety of maintenance personnel. Report any deficiencies via PMS feedback report.

 

PROCEDURE

Preliminary

NOTE 1: Ensure box size is adequate to accommodate amount of male genitalia to be stuffed into box.

NOTE 2: Handle lubricant with care. Accidental spill on PRC and other non-carpeted surface may create a slipping hazard. If spill occurs, cordon off area of spill and notify HAZMINCEN and Safety Office.

1. Cut a hole in the box.

WARNING: Use extreme caution when handling scissors. The Navy treats you like a baby for a reason (specifically, because you are one.)

      a. Put on protective goggles.

      b. Apply circular, dotted-line pattern to box side using felt-tip pen. Dotted-line pattern should be at least 1.5” diameter.

   c. Using scissors, cut out dotted-line pattern. Dispose of cardboard circle in accordance with shipboard practices.

   d. Using duct tape, cover the edges of the hole in the box.

   e. Remove protective gloves.

NOTE 1: Omit steps b and c if cardboard box has pre-cut hole in side.

NOTE 2: If pre-cut hole in box is already gilded with duct tape, omit step d.

2. Put your junk in that box.

WARNING: Ensure hole in box is insulated with duct tape or laminated. When cut, corrugated cardboard can present sharp edges to skin. If no insulation is present, apply a latex condom [00983] to genitalia prior to insertion.

  a. Hold box at waist level, approximately 10” away from body.

  b. With genitals exposed, slowly bring box closer to body until genitals enter the hole cut in the side.

  c. Push testicles into opening, one at a time.

NOTE 1: It may be difficult to place the genitals in the opening in the box while they are flaccid. It may be necessary to become erect before insertion. If  necessary, the use of pornography (no NSN; work center provide) may prove helpful.

NOTE 2: Though the song only refers to the “dick” being in the “box,” it is paramount the testicles are also inside the box when presented. This creates the “fruit basket” effect, which adds to the gift-giving theme. If getting the testicles into the box proves too difficult, do NOT shove them in. Use approved lubricant and gently press them through.

3. Make her open the box.

 

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NOTE 1: This step is best performed from a seated position to create the illusion of a free-standing gift box, as opposed to the horrible surprise strapped to your lap.

WARNING: Do not wrap the box with string, ribbon, or any binding agent that will necessitate the use of a cutting tool to remove. She may become over-excited with a sharp object near your genitals, which can create a dangerous situation.

        a. Make her open the box.

        b. And that’s the way you doooooo it!

        c. Report all discrepancies to work center supervisor.

 

DISPOSAL METHODS FOR HAZARDOUS MATERIAL/WASTE IDENTIFIED IN THE TOOLS, PARTS, MATERIAL, AND TEST EQUIPMENT BLOCK

Method 1: If shipboard HAZMINCEN exists, turn in all spent HM and items contaminated with HM to the shipboard HAZMINCEN for collection, processing, and disposal. Containerize waste in original container or use standard container as listed in Appendix C23-A of OPNAVINST 5100.19 Series Navy Occupational Safety and Health (NAVOSH) Program Manual for Forces Afloat and the Naval Ships’ Technical Manual (NSTM), S9086-T8-010/CH-593, Pollution Control. Store in accordance with OPNAVINST 5100.19 Series, Appendix C23-A and D-15-A-1. Mark, label, or tag the container with specific contents and any information on the contaminants. This information must also be provided on the DD Form 1348-1A at the time of off-loading. Empty container guidance is available in the CNO Policy Guide for Shipboard Hazardous Material Container Disposal, OPNAV P-45-114-95. Contact the receiving shore activity (e.g., Fleet and Industrial Supply Center and Public Works Center) to determine the appropriate local off-loading requirements.

 

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Yup, looks good enough for government work.