Rosemarie Clark Stories

“Oh, fuck!” the driver gasped when she saw the shadow person lurking in the corner. Her whole body tensed and she cocked her arm back in preparation for an altercation. Before she could follow through with a punch, she realized the figure lacked depth, wasn’t moving, and wore a yellow polka-dotted bikini with a lei draped across her neck. The driver was unfamiliar with the swimsuit model in the cardboard cutout, but the techies here must be huge fans to take the risk of a sexual harassment claim for her presence. 

Thankfully she didn’t take the head off of the poor cardboard cutout, her exploitation was enough punishment. The driver spotted the workstation terminal’s USB hub. The driver connected her flash drive that was meant to be mistaken for a key. With a flick of the mouse, she woke up the terminal screen next to the USB hub. A lock screen illuminated the dark server room. “Let’s get this rolling,” the driver remarked to no one except the swimsuit model cutout. 

With a few keystrokes, the driver had a fresh command prompt awaiting her instructions. Referring to a post-it note she’d produced from her pocket, grateful that she had the forethought to not write these instructions on her hand. The driver typed a few commands into the prompt and hit Return. The lock screen dissolved away, revealing a sparse desktop, the only icon being the recycle bin and no menu bar. “Damnit,” she cursed under her breath. 

The driver knew she was great at her job but sometimes technology got the better of her. She slammed her hand onto the desk in frustration and bumped into the mouse again. The cursor flew across the screen and activated the menu bar. “Oh, nevermind,” she corrected herself. Self-doubt had delayed her once again. A couple more clicks of the mouse and the targeted files were being copied over to the flash drive. 

The progress bar crept along at a quick and steady pace at first, then around 62%, it slowed. One of the files must have been pretty big. The driver felt sweat pooling under her arms and dripped down the small of her back. As the server room, though highly air-conditioned, felt stifling because much dust and warm data choked the air. The driver bounced on the balls of her feet in continued nervous anticipation. By now, she must have run out of time, right? The poisonous gas effects would have been resolved by now or office workers would have started returning from lunch. Just as she predicted it, the driver heard an alarm blare outside the doors, signaling time was up.