I AM WORKING AT GAMSTON AIRPORT. I’m in the technical records office. There are lots of other workers sitting at tables adding up aircraft flight times in red school exercise books.
My boss, Dave, asks me to tidy up a large sideboard. It’s full of things we don’t need—glass bowls, books, and lots of old vinyl LPs. I figure we could sell the stuff at a boot sale, but first I rummage through the LPs to see if there are any I want.
I pull the sideboard away from the wall and clean down the back. My ex-wife’s cousin comes into the office. He works there. He tries to pick the sideboard up but slips and falls. He cuts his arm badly and blood starts spurting from an artery. Another of my ex-wife’s cousins, called Mark, rushes over to help. He ties a tourniquet to his cousin’s arm but it’s still bleeding badly.
I try to call 999 on my office telephone but it doesn’t work. I run down a corridor to Ray’s office and barge into a meeting. I dial 9 on Ray’s phone to get an outside line. Then I dial 999 but I get a disconnected tone. I run to a big office full of accountants. I shout, “Someone call 999!” One of the workers says he’ll do it, but he has the same problem—none of the phones will connect to 999. I’m angry and frustrated.
Just then, I get a text message on my mobile phone. My ex-wife’s cousin has bled out and died. I return to the technical records office. Mark is really upset. I’m furious that none of the phones work properly. I demand we get new phones before someone else dies. Someone from accounts says they will buy some phones that run on WhatsApp. “It’s too little too late,” I say. I rip the first few pages out of Mark’s exercise book.
It’s the end of the working day. I leave the office carrying four coats and a leather bag. I walk in convoy with the other workers across a wooden pontoon bridge floating on a lake. After a while I notice I’ve dropped the coats and bag. I turn back to find them. I see the coats laying on the bridge but the bag is nowhere to be found. I walk up and down the convoy shouting, “Has anyone seen my bag?” Someone says I’m getting a reputation for shouting. Someone else says he gave my bag to Tom, the presiding overseer of my JW congregation, but that was at 2 pm.
I fly at low level over the floating bridge and nearly fall into the water. I see some Action Man figures that have been lost in-between the wooden boards. I reach the other side of the lake and see a group of women standing by a tree. They are stamping on a huge sheet of glass. I’m worried they are going to hurt themselves and I’ll have to call 999 again!