Upen waited for the lift to come down. Door opens, door shuts, he\u2019s in the elevator. Door opens, door shuts, he\u2019s out of the elevator. Then, he pushes the office door open. <\/span><\/p>\n Immediately Upen jumped back out. He quickly glanced at the door and confirmed the door number, then he stepped back in. <\/span><\/p>\n Something was very wrong. <\/span><\/p>\n 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\u2019t recognise. <\/span><\/p>\n Lastly, was that sound, clack, clack, clack, everyone was jabbing their fingers into a typewriter. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhy are you late?\u201d Tristan called out, \u201cIt\u2019s for the list.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cStomach trouble\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n Quickly Tristan scribbled it in a log book. It looked like it had a leather binding. <\/span><\/p>\n 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. <\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n A large bulky device with big black buttons. <\/span><\/p>\n \u2018Ting!\u2019 Rohan pulled some typewriter levers and the paper readjusted itself. <\/span><\/p>\n Upen wasn\u2019t sure what to do until he leafed through the notebook on his desk. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThursday\u2019s to dos\u201d, he read. \u201cFinish copy for the Indian Bean.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n What copy?<\/span><\/i> A paper was stuck inside his typewriter and he took a closer look. It was titled, \u2018Copy for Indian Bean Products\u2019.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou got that copy ready?\u201d Alpana had come over, a long cigarette held between her fingers. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cUrrrrm, not yet\u201d Upen quickly replied. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWell, you need to complete it swiftly. The clients want to see a first draft. Write it and we\u2019ll telegram it to them.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll get it done.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n Alpana went off to complete her own typing work. <\/span><\/p>\n And then Upen stared at the big, ugly device. A typewriter. His finger pressed down on key. It didn\u2019t budge. He increased the pressure. Clack. A metal piece struck the paper and the letter E was imprinted on the paper. <\/span><\/p>\n Rohan\u2019s cigarette packet lay on the table. It had the image and word Camel imprinted on it. \u201cNot having one?\u201d 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. <\/span><\/p>\n Upen looked around to make sure he was seeing right. It just felt\u2026 like he was in wrong time. <\/span><\/p>\n The intern came in too and he didn\u2019t act as if anything had odd as happening. In fact, he fit right in. Upen wanted to ask him, but he held his tongue. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHey, Alpana, I\u2019m going down.\u201d \u00a0All she did was wave her hand as she rattled the big, large, fat, round, phone receiver. <\/span><\/p>\n The moment Upen walked out of the office door, he increased his pace. He didn\u2019t wait to for lift. He rushed down the stairs. <\/span>I\u2019m going mad, I\u2019m going mad, I\u2019m going mad, <\/span><\/i>that\u2019s all he could think. <\/span>There\u2019s something not right about the office.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n 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<\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019m going mad. <\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" 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.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":38,"featured_media":783,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false},"categories":[107],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-763","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","category-107","description-off"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/spacebar.in\/contentious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/763","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/spacebar.in\/contentious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/spacebar.in\/contentious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/spacebar.in\/contentious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/38"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/spacebar.in\/contentious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=763"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/spacebar.in\/contentious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/763\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/spacebar.in\/contentious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/783"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/spacebar.in\/contentious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=763"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/spacebar.in\/contentious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=763"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/spacebar.in\/contentious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=763"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"\"](\"https:\/\/ruthward.files.wordpress.com\/2008\/04\/imperial-typewriter.jpg\")
<\/p>\n![\"camel\"](\"https:\/\/spacebar.in\/contentious\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/01\/camel-2.jpg\")
<\/p>\n