Once upon a time, there was a little company called Chester Creek Technologies. This company designed fantastical devices to help people tame a terrible beast. This beast was called "The computer." A horrible, scary creature, these brutes ran rampant across town, farm, and city, multiplying at a seemingly impossible pace.
Now, not too terribly long ago, in a place not too terribly far away, someone decided it was time to stand up to the computer. Behold the advent of the keyboard and the mouse -- to tame the rampaging techno-beast, to allow the citizens of the world to put the creature to their own uses. But that someone left out a very important piece. Like a seven pound claymore of olden times, not everyone could wield a keyboard effectively against the computers.
Enter Chester. Chester Creek was founded to help everyone combat the beastly computers. With keyboards and mice for every individual, the crew at CCT are the armorers of the masses who were not equipped to use standard keyboards and mice.
At Chester Creek, a small group of people worked diligently daily. Jim, Jack, Meg, Kathy, Tasha, Karen, Cari and Melissa. On this particular day, however, the sky had opened up and divulged not the soft, white, gently drifting snow they had come to expect, but instead spat forth a slushy, slippery mess of freezing raindrops. And diligently they went to work, regardless of the harrowing conditions happening around them.
The rain, if you could call it that, fell doggedly upon the cobbled streets of their native town, and cars continued to traverse the hilly slopes upon which the city sat, while the girls of Chester Creek glanced occasionally and nervously out at the inclement weather foisted upon them by an indecisive climate. As the sun crossed the sky, hidden in banks of fog and cloud, the cars and trucks began to shift, slip, and slide along the streets. It was an ice storm.
Now, as you may know, an ice storm is also a fearful thing, almost as terrifying as a feral computer. The roads become treacherous, impossible to traverse without harm of conveyance and possibly self. In order to stay safe for family, friends, and furtherance of their noble cause, it was determined that the crew at CCT was effectively trapped.
Hijinks, of course, ensued. While there were no groceries to be had for dinner, the abundance of chips, tea, and snacks was mighty indeed, and down the hall there resided the mystical dispenser of noms, a machine that would exchange refreshments and victuals for coins. When the conversation grew stale and the office confining, the girls set out on an adventure across the maze of halls, from which they eventually returned safe and sound.
Kathy, resident artist, took the time to spruce up to work spaces, painting walls vibrant reds and deep blues as the whim struck. Karen took care of a prodigious great stack of paperwork, and in fact will have nothing to do for days. Meg, ever watchful of her whimsical, willowy wall stood guard to ensure that the sly Tasha did not abscond with it to hide forever its inconvenient branches. Melissa spent a goodly time building a box fort, in which everyone frolicked joyfully. And I? Well, I wrote up this completely fictional story for your enjoyment.
We aren't really trapped. The roads are looking icky, though. Wish us safe travels!
Also, your computer is unlikely to go on a rampage and tear off your face. No worries. Just so you know. Because I'm sure some of you were terrified. You can admit it. It's ok. Really.
