Stephen found it impossible to focus on the task at hand while the bell was ringing. Class had let out early and he was planning on using the time to rearrange his books, but that task required some focus and organization. He had reshelved a set theory textbook and was trying to find a place a book his father gave him. It had a title something like the power of productivity, and Stephen’s father had insisted he read it, because all the “thought leaders” and influential businessmen were reading it, it was written by some esteemed fellow from a management consulting practice, and it promised to show him a portait of how the world economy really worked. Stephen wasn’t all that interested in business, and found that it changed too much for him to keep up with it. Some people thrived on constant change, but Stephen liked stability.
The bell grew more irritating as he thought it over. He wanted to find a spot on the shelf for all of his books except one he found important enough to leave on his nightstand, one by Albert Camus, who he loved to quote in conversation and tried to encourage others to read. At this point he gave up sorting his bel’s sound had worn on him so much. He started thinking of a solution to this problem, and rummaged around his storage bin, which also was something he had to reorganize at some point. He found a box of tools he had last used when he was back home. One of his friends there was in to tinkering with electronics, Stephen didn’t know much but he at least had a basic wirecutter and screwdriver set.
Once he found his little toolkit he looked to see if there was anyone in the hallways of the boy’s dorm. It didn’t matter who it was, the job wouldn’t be complicated if anyone attempted it. Stephen didn’t know anything about how the bells were wired, but there was a near-universal truth that it will turn off if you just cut enough of the wires. The tricky part was finding someone willing to do it. Stephen himself wasn’t courageous enough, and so he was looking for someone bold or someone with the status to get out of any punishments the administration might hand out. As he peeked his head out of the door he said “If anyone wants to do something about that damn bell, I might be able to help you.” He had to yell a little bit to make himself heard.
The bell grew more irritating as he thought it over. He wanted to find a spot on the shelf for all of his books except one he found important enough to leave on his nightstand, one by Albert Camus, who he loved to quote in conversation and tried to encourage others to read. At this point he gave up sorting his bel’s sound had worn on him so much. He started thinking of a solution to this problem, and rummaged around his storage bin, which also was something he had to reorganize at some point. He found a box of tools he had last used when he was back home. One of his friends there was in to tinkering with electronics, Stephen didn’t know much but he at least had a basic wirecutter and screwdriver set.
Once he found his little toolkit he looked to see if there was anyone in the hallways of the boy’s dorm. It didn’t matter who it was, the job wouldn’t be complicated if anyone attempted it. Stephen didn’t know anything about how the bells were wired, but there was a near-universal truth that it will turn off if you just cut enough of the wires. The tricky part was finding someone willing to do it. Stephen himself wasn’t courageous enough, and so he was looking for someone bold or someone with the status to get out of any punishments the administration might hand out. As he peeked his head out of the door he said “If anyone wants to do something about that damn bell, I might be able to help you.” He had to yell a little bit to make himself heard.
