Page 65 - Contrast2014

With eyes wide and more than a little damp, he
stumbled forward over randomly scattered tool chests,
spectrometers, voltmeters, and industrial thermometers to
caress the smooth, curvy surface of the great chamber at
the heart of his beloved. Wrapping his arms around the
boiler-shaped compartment, almost the size of a telephone
booth, Dave lovingly fondled every rivet and pressed his
lips to the rim of a pipe, tasting the faint zesty tang of
lubricant distil in his mouth.

The reverential silence was shattered like a broken
mirror by the ringing. Springing backwards, the heels of
Dave's exposed feet landed on a hammer and sent him
sprawling on the floor, his spine wrenching from the
agonizing impact. Staggering up, he forced his unsteady
legs around the room. What was exploding this time? The
power cells? No. The compositor? No. The pumps? No.

Then his eyes fixed on the only useless object that had
found its way into the room. The cell phone next to the
oil can was lit up. As he watched, it rang again. No doubt
about it. It was the phone.

So struck by this bizarre experience, he found himself
giving in to instinct and crossed to open the phone before
the fourth ring.

"Hello, David? Thank God you answered! I've been
trying to get you for weeks, but I couldn't find your
number. David, I'm really worried about you. I know we
broke up kind of hard, and ... well... maybe some of it was
my fault. And I'm sorry about how your. .. your. ..
presentation went and about your tenure. But you can't
just let yourself fall apart. You need to try to put your life
back together. It's not all over, and ... hello? Hello! Dave,
Are you even listening to me?!"

contrast I 63