It hadn't arrived yet, though. Reg had a lot of work to do while he waited. The speech board's deadline was coming up, so he gave the program some last-minute tweaks. He had to put the plotter out of his mind to concentrate on code and keyboard, but every now and then he allowed himself a moment of anticipation. It was going to be just like the one they had at the last company, large and loud and wonderfully consistent. It would come when it came; time for more code.

Boss-man was downstairs with him, working on the plasma cutter. Reg listened over the noise Boss-man was making and over the noise he was making, listened for movement at the receiving bay. He and Boss-man both made rhythmic noise, so he blocked out all of that. But they both made arrhythmic noise as well. He had to remain conscious of arrhythmic noise, although it was difficult to process.

Boss-man's name was Marsh. He remembered that now.

Marsh stopped cutting and started sanding. Reg typed in code. Marsh stopped sanding and came to the cabinet near the network terminal to find some parts. Reg listened, and when Marsh spoke, he could hear the words.

"...a court date this aftern..." Marsh said. "...think it's going to... really not looking forward... I think the biggest problem is determining... stody rights to apply for... joint, but I can't exactly have them stay... tiny apartment. However... not... forever... I'll move into... place, and... want to sign away... custody rights. And... I don't want the... ause I do; I love my kids... attorney doesn't... what he's talking ab... as I'm concerned."

Marsh looked at Reginald, and Reg sympathized. Life was full of personal problems. Yes, everyone had some and they were never very comfortable. It was too bad Marsh had some problems, too bad Marsh was hurting from them so much. Marsh talked about them all the time. Every day. Whatever they were.

Marsh continued. "...wish you could... but I guess... better this way... spare you from... understanding all this... crap I have to... most envy you."

Reg sympathized. Yes, those personal problems were unpleasant. Time for more code.

Reg heard a sound that sounded like a truck pulling up to the rear of the building. He wondered if Marsh had heard it. He wondered if it was the plotter being delivered.

"Plotter," he inquired to Marsh.

Marsh said, "Huh?"

Maybe he forgot the plotter is coming today, the Other Voice suggested.

Reg decided to go look for himself. He saved his changes and stood up from the network terminal and went to the receiving bay. He looked out the window in the door. He saw the truck. It was a big truck; definitely big enough to contain a plotter.

He felt something on his arm and looked to see what it was. It was Marsh. Marsh was pushing him away from the door slowly and gently, so Reg moved away from the door. Marsh would bring the plotter in because he was the Boss-man. When Marsh had gone outside, Reg watched from the window in the door.

The bay door opened. The truck backed into the bay door. Reg sensed two more people in addition to Marsh. He turned off his arrhythmic hearing because it was extraneous. The people rolled a large dolly out of the back of the truck, and the plotter was on the dolly. Reg couldn't remember if he had pointed the special plotter space out to Marsh yet. He thought maybe he should point it out now. He went to the spot and stood near it and called out to Marsh.

Marsh came to him, but he didn't have the plotter with him. Reg pointed to the spot which he had cleared with two feet of extra space on either side to make installation easier. Marsh didn't do anything, so Reg pointed again. He pointed with his index fingers of both hands for good measure. Marsh said something, and then he went back into the main workshop. Reg called out to Marsh and pointed again, in case it helped.

Two minutes and thirty-two seconds later, the plotter wheeled into the back where Reg was. The dolly was being pushed by the two people. Reg moved to the corner near the chemicals cabinet so Marsh and the two people would have enough space. There was the plotter, and it was as big as the plotter they had at the last company. No, bigger. And definitely cleaner and more beautiful. Reg knew he had to wait until it was put in place before he could touch it, so he waited.

MARZ had operated without a plotter since it had opened so long ago. Reg always had to make do with notes and blueprints pieced together from 8 ½" x 11" papers. The large blueprints would be so much better. Reg could print his blueprints and spread the single sheets over the table and look and look. That would be good.

The two people went away and they took the dolly away with them and Marsh followed them to the truck. Reg listened to their footsteps and their bangs and knocks and words. And he looked at the plotter. It was so much newer than the plotter they'd had at the old company, oh so much newer! With more functions and such clean, unused keys! Reginald stopped listening because arrhythmic hearing was extraneous. He stood before the plotter.

Then he touched it. He started at the front corners and traced its contours on both sides. He traced the front and the back and the keypad and then he touched the paper tray and the inkjet and the guide bar. And the other guide bar. Then he worked his way down and traced the base contours. He touched the manual knobs and explored the finger indentations. He touched every screw and hinge and joint. He traced the front panel and then he popped it open. He reached inside and touched each component, starting from the top left corner of the inner paper guide and working in and down and right.

He felt something on his arm and looked to see what it was. It was Boss-man... Marsh. Marsh spoke, but Reg decided to finish his task before he adjusted his senses. Marsh would repeat his words if they were very important. He turned back to the plotter components and finished getting acquainted with the new plotter. When he was done, he would attach it to the network. Maybe Marsh would help. Maybe helping would make Marsh feel better and forget about the personal problems.