All she remembers of the thought was that she climbed up the stairs to the second floor of a warehouse. The late-afternoon light, which entered through the large windows, cast a glow on the shelves. The sign above the aisles read “Pens.” And on the shelves were milk crates filled to the brim with these pens. Men, working against the clock, formed never-ending lines and put more crates on the shelves. She found herself without her camera and asked to return.
They told her she could.
***
Something crept among them. The first case was noticed in the northwest quadrant.
It was discovered that a yellow Bic pen started to bleed at the bottom. When it was asked what was wrong, it no longer could write, but only draw out eight blank lines. Then the other Bic pens in the shelf exhibited the same symptoms. Each pen drew out eight blank lines and became silent for ever more.
“How many cases have been reported?” wrote Chief General Carver Duofold. This pen oversaw the clandestine PLUMA group.
“General, well, we think we have about 200 crates, all in all we estimate about 200,000 fellow pens,” wrote Secretary Monteblanco.
General Duofold had not seen anything like this in his lifetime. He came from a long line of leaders who helped pen wonderful ideas. Now he feared the worst. How could more ideas come about if they, the pens for restrained and sophisticated writing, were gone?
jumahchaguan 