Work Family

I stepped out of Tim’s office, that’s Tim Ziegler PhD SOPH, and there at his desk, just outside Tim’s office, sat Perry Silver. Perry was ex-Air Force, and still in the reserves. He had been called up for a while after 9-11 to work at Bison airport as a cargo plane load balancer or something.

“Jumpin’ Jack Flash” he said. He often said that on seeing me, but who knows what he meant. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Why’d they let you out? I wouldn’t have.”

“Very funny. Come on back, I’ll tell everyone at the same time.”

“No thanks,” he said, “I’ll wait for the movie.”

Perry kept to himself; I didn’t expect him to come back to the other small offices. I gave Penny Pfeffer a little wave and walked back to run the gauntlet. First I walked by Lobelia Poundstone’s office.

“Hi Lobby,” I said, as I peeked into her open office and gave a little wave.

“Hey Justin! Not for nothin’, under the circumstances, but good to see you. Hope you’re ok.”                        

“Thanks, Lob. Could be worse. Nothing broken, nothing thrown.” And I continued around the corner, and there they were, rounding out the rest of the Radiation Safety Division of the Health and Safety Department, my colleagues, my frenemies, my work family: Bing Yawn, Valkyrie Greystoat, and Bob Francois.

Bing, a Korean by birth, and Brazilian most of his life, a speaker of three languages: Korean, Portuguese and, worst of all, English, spoke first: “What happen you, Justin? The police did that to your face? For what? Are you ok?”

“I’m ok. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it.”

Valkyrie stood up and poked her head out of her office. “You have a patient today, a Brachy. Are you going to do it or do I have to? Or Bob?”

“I’ll do it. That’s why I came in.”

Bob came out of his office next and put his hand on my shoulder. Bob was another Viet Nam vet, a Marine Corps sniper, he claimed, although for some reason Perry didn’t believe him.

“Justin, don’t listen to her, I’ll be happy to do the patient. Valkyrie, I never said you had to take care of the Brachy. I said I’d do it if Justin didn’t come in. Aren’t you going to tell him you’re glad he’s ok?”

“He looks fine to me. As long as I don’t have to do his work, I’m happy.”

“Nobody has to do my work,” I said “I’m here to work.”

I started collecting what I’d need for the Brachy therapy coverage: thin crystal sodium iodide radiation detector, ion chamber radiation detector, patient isotope treatment forms, radioactive material signs, a lead pig for any extra Brachy seeds, et cetera. Bob pulled me aside.

“What happened, Justin?”

“Well, long story short; I got arrested, they put me in the car, left me sitting there, and I stepped through the cuffs. They didn’t like that, pulled me out of the car and I have no idea what happened next.”

“Yeah, they don’t like that. If your hands are cuffed behind you’re back, you cant do much, but cuffed in front your hands are a weapon, like an axe. They can’t leave you like that; you’re dangerous. Or you could get your hands over their head from behind and strangle them.” Bob had applied to be a cop after he got out of the Marines, but they didn’t hire him out of fear he could have war flashbacks, or so he said.