Newsletter of the East Bay Chapter of STC
September/October 2003
Lethal
Pen
by Adrienne Tange
EBSTC Member
John Kelly, Light Saber’s sole technical editor, strode quickly through the dark office building, threading his way through a maze of drab gray cubicles toward his own little stall. In one hand he clutched a Starbucks coffee, and in the other hand he lugged his heavy leather briefcase stuffed with a draft of his company’s user guide and tutorial. As a young father, John knew that his love for his 7-year-old daughter Katherine often conflicted with his dedication as an employee. But John had a plan to make both his daughter and his boss happy. He would burn the midnight oil so that he could finish editing both manuals tonight. Hopefully, then he could leave on time tomorrow so that he could take Katherine trick-or-treating for Halloween.
At his office, he laid the briefcase with a thud on his desk, the loud echo reminding him that he was alone in the large empty room. Uneasiness chilled his body. Being alone at night in a deserted building was not his idea of fun.
Don’t be an idiot, he thought to himself. You can only get in here with a card key, so I’m safe.
He arranged the two manuals side by side on his desk, placed his trusty red editing pen lovingly next to them, and then sat down in his blue standard-issue office chair sipping his espresso. Suddenly, John froze in mid-sip. He thought he heard the creaking of an office chair somewhere near him, like someone was shifting in his seat.
I thought I was alone, John thought to himself nervously.
Tensely, he strained to hear if there really was someone in the office with him. This time he heard the clink of something being laid down on a desk, like a pen or pencil.
There is someone else here, John thought to himself. He struggled with what to do next, the fear momentarily paralyzing him. It’s probably someone working late just like me, poor stiff. I’ll go see who it is.
He took a breath to steady himself and then walked slowly down to where he heard the sound. Ahead of him the chair squeaked again. The mystery person was sitting near him.
Walking down the long row, John turned his head to peer into each cube. Five cubes down, he found her. Sitting with her back to him was a small woman with straight white hair that stuck out from her head like a broom. She appeared to be reading a book lying open on her desk. John knocked softly on her cubicle wall, hoping not to startle her. Mentally, he quickly tried to list every woman with white hair that worked for the tiny startup. Offhand, he couldn’t think of one.
The
woman swiveled her chair around slowly to look at John. Pale hair framed
her small narrow face. From the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, John
guessed she was over fifty. Rectangular black-rimmed glasses perched on
her narrow nose. Then John noticed her eyes. They were like shards of
blue ice, devoid of warmth, watching and assessing him. He gulped, unnerved
by those unfriendly eyes.
“Hello,” she answered back, her voice lacking emotion.
“I’m John,” he began.
“I know who you are.” She waved a thin hand dismissively at him. “We are going to work together editing the Light Saber user guide and tutorial.”
John stared at her stupidly for a minute. Who is this woman? he thought to himself.
She must have seen the confusion on his face. “I guess your boss didn’t tell you about me. He hired me for tonight to help you out. My name is Meredith Pen.”
Meredith Pen? John thought. He remembered his chattering co-worker Steve babbling on about her. What did he say? Oh, yeah, Steve had said she was a first-rate editor who was legendary. He had also said something else about her that John couldn’t remember. But why didn’t his boss tell him about her coming?
“Oh, you know how bosses are. We employees are the last to know these things,” she said as though reading his mind. She explained that she was a contract editor brought in to help him finish the project tonight. “I hope for your sake you are up to my standards.” John assumed she was joking, though there seemed to be little humor in her tone.
“How about you show me the tutorial and I will start on that one.”
John stood in her cube uncertainly. He couldn’t verify her story because it was too late to call his boss. Besides, she was wearing a badge. Why would someone break into his company, steal a badge, and want to edit a tutorial late at night? John made his decision.
“Do you want me to bring you up to speed on the project?”
“No, I already am.” And with that she turned and walked over toward John’s cube.
The two worked steadily and quietly over the next two hours. John developed a quick style guide to keep them on the same track and presented it to Meredith.
“Good,” was all she said and then handed him her edited pages. John looked over Meredith’s work. She was good, very thorough and definitely gifted.
She
also seemed to have the energy of a younger person. Near midnight they
were close to finishing and John was exhausted.
“You are a good editor,” Meredith said behind him, causing him to jump. She handed the last sheaf of edited pages to him.
“And don’t worry, you passed my test.” This time he noticed warmth in her tone and a twinkle in her eye. “It’s time for me to go.” And she turned and left.
She is an odd one, John thought. But he too packed up his things and left for home, too tired to think more about her.
The next morning John stopped by his boss’s office. His boss, Bill Forest, a short, balding, middle-aged man, smiled warmly when he saw John.
”Thanks for finishing last night. I appreciate your effort.” He waved John’s hurriedly penned note from last night in the air. “This is a pretty creative story about Meredith Pen, too.”
“What do you mean?” John asked, puzzled.
“You know. How she helped you out. Pretty good trick for a dead woman.”
“Dead woman,” John echoed.
Suddenly, he remembered Steve’s story. Five years ago, Meredith died in a car accident before completing a big project. The editor who took over did a poor job. When he was called into his boss’s office due to complaints about the manual, he blamed the mistakes on Meredith. Employees said she now haunts offices in this building, testing the worth of editors the day before Halloween. Some inept editors who worked with her later perished in mysterious accidents.
Shaken, John walked back to his office. The first thing he noticed was Meredith’s pen on his desk with a yellow sticky note next to it. The note read:
I
enjoyed working with you. You are a good editor.
Have a long life and Happy Halloween.
Meredith
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