The Ill-mannered Door (humorous sci-fi)

38.1: Tales from the Queue

The Intragalactic Resources Office, or IRO, was located in Centerburg, California. A town where the population and elevation are about the same. I'm told that Centerburg is what is generally known as a hick town, due to being primarily populated with trailer parks and old, gun rack laden pick-up trucks parked at the Dairy King. Strange I know, because that isn't what appears on any postcards of California that I had ever seen, but there you have it.

I was told that the office was placed in Centerburg precisely because it is a small hick town, and that if any of the residents were to discover the true purpose of the IRO and tried to tell someone about it, well... no one believes a hick. Many a hick has claimed to have seen UFOs, and look at where that has gotten them. Precisely.

This is also why we weren't terribly concerned about leaving the Bounty floating over the vacant dirt lot behind the office. We simply climbed down a rope ladder and then had the crew pull it back up again to keep out any of the sorts of riffraff that were known as "lookie-loos" in these parts.

Once inside the office, we were met with a rather large room sporting a long counter that separated us from the worker drones who staffed the place. There were two queues off to our left which were labeled "A" and "B" respectively. There was only one woman standing in the "A" queue, which was very good news because we were in quite a hurry.

There was also a waiting area and a reception desk to the right, which is where we headed straight away.

The king stepped up to the reception desk and, given that the receptionist was currently focused on her computer, politely cleared his throat.

The receptionist didn't so much as glance in our direction.

The king cleared his throat again, though this time it was slightly less polite.

She was clearly unfazed, so the king said, "Look, we are really in a bit of a rush. I don't suppose..."

She continued to type away for another few moments. Then, with a final strike of the enter key, she turned to him and said, "Yes, can I help you?"

"Yes, we need some information, and we are in a hurry. There are lives at stake."

The receptionist blinked twice and said, "Yes, I'm sure. There always are. Do you have a number?"

"No, we're in a hurry I said, and there isn't anyone else waiting here, so why would I need a number?"

"Hmm, yes. Take a number and we'll call you," she said and went back to typing again with an air of finality.

"But..." the king began to lose his temper so, turning to Higgins, he said, "Higgins, could you..."

"Certainly, Your Majesty," Higgins said and quickly stepped before the desk as the rest of us found seats in the waiting area.

Time passed. Eventually, Higgins arrived in the waiting area clutching a small white ticket, which he then offered to the king, but the king waved it off and said, "Just tell me what number we have."

Higgins said, "109."

The king glanced at the display suspended above the reception desk which read, "Now serving #87" and said, "Oh, for the love of... we're the only ones here!"

"There is that woman over there, Your Majesty," Higgins said, indicating the woman waiting in the "A" queue.

The king said, "Oh, and I suppose you think that she's holding numbers 88 through 108?"

Higgins simply shrugged and took a seat.

"This place of yours is utterly barmy, Derek," the king said.