Cargo
by Steve Johnson
In the 14th circuit court of the state of Texas, the Hon. John C. Wright presiding.
ROLANDO ORELLANA, clerk of the court: State your name and occupation for the record, please.
HENRY SCHRAM: Schram, Hank—Henry. I’m a mechanic for Allied.
ROLANDO ORELLANA: Allied Airlines?
HENRY SCHRAM: Allied Fruit Growers. Yeah, Allied Airlines! Jeez, what (indistinct).
ROLANDO ORELLANA: Please speak up so the machine can hear you, Mr. Schram.
HENRY SCHRAM: He can hear me just fine. Can’t you, Ben?
ROLANDO ORELLANA: By “machine,” I mean the court recording device, not defendant’s counsel. The microphone over here.
HENRY SCHRAM: Oh. Yeah. I said, ‘Jeez, what did you think?’
ROLANDO ORELLANA: Thank you.
JANE BERRENDT, state’s attorney: Mr. Schram, you are currently employed by Allied Airlines, is that correct?
HENRY SCHRAM: It’d be hard to deny it at this point.
JANE BERRENDT: And you were so employed on November 12th of this year?
HENRY SCHRAM: (indistinct).
JANE BERRENDT: I don’t think the court can hear you, Mr. Schram. Would the clerk repeat the question, please?
ROLANDO ORELLANA: The question was, were you so employed on…
HENRY SCHRAM: Yes, I was so employed on the 12th of November.
JANE BERRENDT: And did there come a time when you were asked to install a Model type 2600 computer on an aircraft belonging to Allied Airlines?
HENRY SCHRAM: Brother, did there ever…
Hank Schram pushed his plastic visor back into his sweat-soaked hair, blinked reddening eyes, and sniffed. The air coming through his nostrils smelled foul, industrial, somehow flat and pungent at the same time.
In fact, he thought it was worse than the time his son Johnathan stuffed a handful of blackened popcorn in Hank’s open mouth, then ran away laughing. Hank hadn’t paddled Jon-Jon for that one; the offense was so bizarre, so obviously unpremeditated, that he very much doubted it would happen again.
On the other hand, blackened popcorn doesn’t usually smell of jet fuel on top of everything else.
“I gotta take a break,” Hank muttered to no one in particular. He slid backward on his knees across curved aluminum, probing with his toes to locate the wing edge.
The plane was not ready to fly. In Hank’s opinion, it was not going to be ready for quite some time. Every time he replaced a section of hydraulic piping, another gasket failed somewhere else.
Just par for the course at the Helpful Skies, he thought. Hope they’re real helpful when this pig goes into a tight spin.
Hank turned around when he ran out of wing. He sat on the edge of the wing, looking down before he jumped to the tarmac.
There were men in suits below him. Hobart Rowe, the maintenance boss, was with them.
Hank blinked hard, but they didn’t go away.
“Schram? Henry Schram?” one of them said.
He admitted his existence. Somewhere behind the terminal, a jet began to whine.
“We’d like to talk to you,” the suit shouted up at him.
Hank was not amused. He’d been out on the flight line two hours already, on duty for twelve. And it wasn’t like he was the only mechanic Allied employed, despite how Hobart acted sometimes.
“Is there a problem?” he said.
“Something’s come up,” Hobart Rowe said, not looking directly at him. “Let’s go inside, OK, Hank?”
“Suits me.”
The suits waited, expectantly. He looked down at them.
“You wanna get outta the way?” Hank said.
They all blinked in unison. Then they got the idea.
Hank jumped down. He stood up, a denim-wrapped gnome among tall, thin pinstripes.
He couldn’t imagine what they wanted with him.
“Henry, we understand you’re good with air-conditioning. Cooling systems.”
Hank shook his head. He didn’t have a license anymore, he said. Why couldn’t Terry or Sean help them?
Another suit picked up the conversation immediately.
“What Vance is trying to say is, we hear you’re good with cryonics.”
Hank said he was.
“Could you hook up a cryonic system for a computer mainframe?”
No problem. Where was it?
“Well, that’s really the problem, Henry. It’s got to go on a plane.”
Hank figured as much. He said so.
“Tonight.”
He’d take a look at it. He had almost an hour to go on his shift.
It was a Model 2600 series, big and blocky. About six feet by eight, a yard high and black metal all around. Cryonic tubes oozed frosty air over the hangar deck, while heavy cables hummed.
It had a modem and a printer attached; that was usual. Also a voice box and microphone, which was less usual.
The racing stripes on the cabinet were a new one on Hank, though.
“Who owns this thing?” he wanted to know.
The voice turret turned in his direction. A cultured baritone spoke.
“If you are speaking of me, no one owns me. I am independent. May I inquire who you are, sir?”
Hank stepped back a pace. His mouth dropped open.
“I heard about this thing…” he said softly. He approached carefully, looking at all sides of the computer.
“May I ask you your name, please?” it said again.
“Ah, sorry. Hank Schram.”
“My name is Benjamin Babbage. I’m pleased to meet you, Hank.”
“Ah, pleased ta meetcha, too. So you’re the one that—”
“Yes. I am the machine that works fora living.”
JANE BERRENDT, state’s attorney: Mr. Babbage, what did you demand of Mr. Schram when you first met?
BENJAMIN BABBAGE: His name.
JANE BERRENDT: And after that?
BENJAMIN BABBAGE: I asked for his assistance. I needed to be in Dallas today and air travel was the only feasible means. Allied Airlines stated they would need to make special arrangements.
JANE BERRENDT: You asked them for a ticket and they said they needed to make arrangements?
Benjamin Babbage: Initially, their response was less than adumbratory. They cited the right of interstate-regulated common carriers to refuse peregrination in pretransactionary… (pause) Are there jurors present?
JANE BERRENDT: The witness is not at liberty to ask questions.
BENJAMIN BABBAGE: I am legally blind, Mrs. Berrendt. I have a right to know if a jury is present in the room.
JUDGE WRIGHT: Y’all hearing him OK? (Indistinct) Jury’s hearing you fine, Mr. Babbage. They’re right here. State’s Attorney, you want to repeat the question again for him?
JANE BERRENDT: Did Allied Airlines agree to make arrangements immediately?
BENJAMIN BABBAGE: No. They refused to sell me a ticket.
JANE BERRENDT: But eventually they agreed?
BENJAMIN BABBAGE: Yes.
JANE BERRENDT: How were they convinced to agree?
BENJAMIN BABBAGE: I have no idea of their state of mind.
JANE BERRENDT: Very well, what events occurred before they agreed?
BENJAMIN BABBAGE: I told them that under the Americans with Disabilities Act, they were required to sell me airfare to Dallas, or anywhere else, and to make all necessary arrangements to accommodate my handicaps.
JANE BERRENDT: The law requires “reasonable and necessary” accommodations, I believe, Mr. Babbage, does it not?
BENJAMIN BABBAGE: The courts have construed “reasonable” quite broadly in recent ADA cases.
JANE BERRENDT: Have they indeed?
BENJAMIN BABBAGE: So I am informed.
JANE BERRENDT: And after you told them you would sue, they agreed?
BENJAMIN BABBAGE: No. They agreed after I printed out a copy of the lawsuit and began to sign it.