A Series of Unforeseen Events – An Old World

A series of unforeseen events that have truly and really occurred in Spacebar office, in an alternative universe. As seen through the eyes of Upen.

Upen waited for the lift to come down. Door opens, door shuts, he’s in the elevator. Door opens, door shuts, he’s out of the elevator. Then, he pushes the office door open.

Immediately Upen jumped back out. He quickly glanced at the door and confirmed the door number, then he stepped back in.

Something was very wrong.

For one, everyone was dressed in pin suits and ties, except for Rohan, he wore a bow. Alpana was was attired in a blouse and skirt. Two, everyone had a cigarette in their mouth. The office had a thick haze of smoke in the air, a cigarette smell Upen didn’t recognise.

Lastly, was that sound, clack, clack, clack, everyone was jabbing their fingers into a typewriter.

“Why are you late?” Tristan called out, “It’s for the list.”

“Stomach trouble”

Quickly Tristan scribbled it in a log book. It looked like it had a leather binding.

Upen sat down on the chair in front of his desk. The chair was a stiff, wooden one with no cushions at all. And in front of him, was the typewriter.


A large bulky device with big black buttons.

‘Ting!’ Rohan pulled some typewriter levers and the paper readjusted itself.

Upen wasn’t sure what to do until he leafed through the notebook on his desk.

“Thursday’s to dos”, he read. “Finish copy for the Indian Bean.”

What copy? A paper was stuck inside his typewriter and he took a closer look. It was titled, ‘Copy for Indian Bean Products’.

“You got that copy ready?” Alpana had come over, a long cigarette held between her fingers.

“Urrrrm, not yet” Upen quickly replied.

“Well, you need to complete it swiftly. The clients want to see a first draft. Write it and we’ll telegram it to them.”

“I’ll get it done.”

Alpana went off to complete her own typing work.

And then Upen stared at the big, ugly device. A typewriter. His finger pressed down on key. It didn’t budge. He increased the pressure. Clack. A metal piece struck the paper and the letter E was imprinted on the paper.


Rohan’s cigarette packet lay on the table. It had the image and word Camel imprinted on it. “Not having one?” Rohan grabbed the pack and offered Upen a cigarette. He took one. Rohan pulled out a match, struck it against the table, lit a fire and held it up for Upen. A rustic tobacco smell filled his lung.

Upen looked around to make sure he was seeing right. It just felt… like he was in wrong time.

The intern came in too and he didn’t act as if anything had odd as happening. In fact, he fit right in. Upen wanted to ask him, but he held his tongue.

“Hey, Alpana, I’m going down.”  All she did was wave her hand as she rattled the big, large, fat, round, phone receiver.

The moment Upen walked out of the office door, he increased his pace. He didn’t wait to for lift. He rushed down the stairs. I’m going mad, I’m going mad, I’m going mad, that’s all he could think. There’s something not right about the office.

He walked on to the street to see what one would call was vintage cars and carriages and horses rushing throttling on the road. Everyone was dressed in Wel

I’m going mad.


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