Sixteen“Holy cow! What's happening?” David's eyes are big as saucers. Maati stifles a scream and clings to her aunt's arm.
The three of them, stunned speechless, stare in amazement at the sight before them, at the din of eerie noises that make their skin prickle with disbelief. Sounds not heard in years, almost forgotten, are now audible as everything in the office that had lay dormant comes alive in a chorus of inharmonious song.
Movement, long a hopeless possibility, now activates each machine, as if rising from the dead. A phone, dusty from abandonment, rings in a bizarre rhythm of restoration. A typewriter print cartridge moves back and forth, dinging at the end of each pass along the carriage. The drum of a mimeograph machine turns round and round spewing ink repeatedly on a tattere
