The Lone Architect

A cool wind was blowing through the cubicles, wafting down from the air-conditioning unit. Off in the distance, a lone stranger appeared out of the gloom. Clothed with a worldly weariness, his other distinguishing feature was the silver t-square, strapped to his back.

No one knew his name, or where he had come from. Silently as he strode to the print area, his mission was clear.

But what was this? Someone else had got to the plotter ahead of him, greedily exploiting the print resources. The squatter eyed the stranger suspiciously as they quickly sized each other up.

Frozen in their tracks, all the world became a distant blur around them, merging with the constant hum of the network server.

Suddenly, an incoming fax broke the standoff.

With lightning reflexes the stranger reached for his glue gun and with a voice like cold steel said, "Stick 'em up..."