It's always quiet at night. That's why I picked the night shift. The workers have all gone home, and all who remains are the red eye employees; those that stay until the dawn breaks finishing some report. By the time I begin my route, it's so late that no one's left to complain about the few candies I help myself to as I walk the halls.
Working at this time of night really helps me think. I can't even count the times I've just sat in someone's cubicle, looking at what they've pinned on their walls. there's always notes and work tacked to a board, or the occasional Dilbert strip. What gets me the most though, is the pictures the person has carefully put up. It's when I look at these I sort of come to know the people who inhabits these chairs.
Since I don't like to be bothered on patrol, I usually wait until even the most dedicated are gone before I begin my tour. It's nice and quiet tonight as I shut the door behind me. Turning the first corner I come across The Cat's desk. Despite being owned by a human, I can't seem to find any trace of one among the numerous feline pictures and articles placed on the wall. Not even a self portrait I notice as Garfield makes me laugh.
The night wears on as I continue to the middle of the complex. I know the place like my own home. I can't help but smile as I walk past the Cactus home. There's barely room for papers with all of the prickly plants surrounding the computer. Memories from vacations spent in the desert are pinned on the walls next to ads for the Grand Canyon.
Each individual cube shows the person inhabiting it so accurately that I can almost see the person sitting in front of me, smiling at a photo or laughing at a comic. Some cubes are near barren, containing only the necessities required for the job and not a thing more. Others have become a dwelling for the worker, a home away from home. Surrounding themselves with cartoons and photos seems to get them from the first coffee in the morning to the last goodbye at night.
I'm walking down the last hallway when I see it. There, sticking out of the corner cubical are two feet, sprawled upon the floor. I quicken my pace as the radio flies to my hand. Maybe he fell asleep, or just got tired and lay down for a nap. My mind is racing as I reach the cube. I shout down to him, the fear mounting as I wait for a response. The radio hits the floor as a voice replies that they're sending for help.
I'm on my knees shaking the man, shouting in his ear. All I can think about as I tear off his shift are the pictures surrounding us on the shelves above. With each compression I give his chest I just think about the picture of his daughter. This man can't be more than thirty. There's his daughter on his shoulders, laughing as her mother snapped the shot. Oh God, he can't die now, he can't leave her behind. How is she going to understand that tomorrow her daddy may not be there to tuck her into bed?
My boss runs to me with the heart shocker. I can't stop crying as he stops my hands from pushing on his chest. They don't train you for this. They never tell you that the man under your hands has a family, a wife, a child. I can't even control the shaking as the machine lights up. God just let him live. Please, I don't even know him, just let him live. I hear the machine beep as it sends the first shock throughout his body. Two beeps sound as it readies itself for a second try.
I can't even look as it prepares for it's final attempt. My head is in my hands as the machine emits another tone. His daughter will never hug her father again. His wife will never kiss him goodbye as he pulls out of the driveway for work. All of a sudden, the screen lights up. I can't even believe my eyes as it flashes PULSE FOUND. My boss shouts a confirmation he pulls his ear away from the man's mouth. My hand is shaking as I point the paramedics to the man on the floor.
As I walk through the halls tonight I smile as I wave to the workers leaving for the night. It's been two weeks since I've seen the man at work. There on his desk is a picture of his wife and daughter in the hospital, smiling as all three wave to the camera. Surrounding the picture are cards and flowers, all wishing him well. I put the card my boss and I signed on his desk and turn to the door. As the lights flick off, I smile as I begin writing on my clipboard. The time is 0530; all secure.
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