Jack sat down at the PC. It was one of a line of them in the local library.
He took out his keychain, which had small "library card." (This was not like the old sort of library card that he remembered from school days -- this was a smaller thingy suited to a keychain, presumably to make it had to lose.) The card was there along with other convenient little items that have nothing to do with the act of entering or starting a car, including a card of roughly the same size that got him discounts at the local Shop & Grab store.
So he entered a longish number into the PC -- thinking it was the library card number. A box in the screen informed him that number was not active. He entered it a second time, being more careful about his typing this time. He got the same error box.
He moved over to the next computer at the bank. That seat was also unoccupied. While he was getting himself settled, by habit, he stuck the keychain back in his pocket. When he realized this, he fished it back out of his pocket, fiddled around until settling again on the library card, and entered the key numbers again. THIS time it worked, and he was into the library's computer system, and by commutation onto the internet.
When he realized this, he noticed the numbers affixed to the two machines. The one that had frustrated him had a small label on it that said "9". The one that had allowed him access, said "10." He would remember that. Nine bad. Ten good.
He would never know what my reader by know will surely have figured out. Desktop 9 had rejected his Shop & Grab card number. If he had given it the library card number, he would not have had to change seat.
And so began Jack's irrational preference for 10 over 9, which....
Comments
Post a Comment