Exit: Tingo's Day

It was probably a Wednesday. Such things always happen on Wednesdays.

Maybe it was Friday.

At first, there was no clear sign of any danger. The usual noises of machinery working under severe strain, the stirring tanks, the skimmers, the autoclaves.

Tingo stood at his workstation, pretty much by himself. Folks were outside, enjoying their breads and the looming change of seasons. Everybody expected the fall to hit them, and rather sooner than later. Tingo didn't need any bread. He didn't eat bread. He didn't enjoy seasons or being outside, he just wanted to get done with his adjustments.

It was usually the inbetween season when he felt like this, when the winter wouldn't stop, yet the spring showed no improvement. His hands felt old. He'd rather be home, sleeping in a warm bed, next to his wife, and his kids.

He didn't have kids.

He didn't have a wife.

He'd have this, though:

A ringing sound, which was the delivery doorbell, followed by frantic knocking.

When Tingo opened the small looking back door, he found a panting, gasping courier with an ominous red package in his hands, held up for Tingo to take. The courier shook the package. "Take! It's unstable! I'm late!"

"Shouldn't you rather not shake it then?" said Tingo and pondered whether he should take the package or not. Or call Raymond, his supervisor.

"It's sensitive to temporal vibrations, not seismic ones. Take!"

Tingo carefully took.

"Are there women around?" the courier asked.

"I'm alone. Everyone's outside."

"Including the women?"

"Including the women."

The courier nodded. He exhaled deeply, pressed his lips together and, with one last look at Tingo, turned around and left. Something red, a transporter, was parked behind the fence in front of the factory.

Tingo put the red box on the red worktable, which seemed like an unneccessary coincidence, and called his supervisor.

"Tingo."

"Ray, we got a package. Unstable, it seems. Heck knows what's in it."

"On my way. Can you assess it?"

"Not without opening it."

"Leave it. Almost there."

Raymond didn't sound concerned. But when he came over, he was inside his safe, air-filled suit, with his newly exchanged filters. Tingo wasn't though. He had a suit, sure. In his locker. He hadn't had his filters changed in weeks. He kept them in the storage, because, well. He just wanted things get done and go back home to no one.

"It's fine", Ray said calmly, noticing Tingo's concerned look. "There's no sign of chemical, biological or mechanical activity. It's in stasis."

"How would you know?"

"Should we open it?" Ray said, looking at the package.

"I don't know. Should we?"

"Who's it from?"

" don't know, Ray."

"Didn't you sign a paper? No forms?"

"No forms, Ray. No paper or signage."

"It must be the shipment from Strandos."

Tingo glanced at the box. "It looks violent."

"It's just a package, Ting."