Final Chaos

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Jim sat at the workstation in his dusty little computer repair shop in Rochester, NY.

It was a cloudy day in early spring. The air still had a bite to it, but after the intense lake-effect snow of the winter, it was a welcome change.

Rather than computers, Jim’s workstation was piled high with cell phones. Half of them had broken screens and the other half he’d already fixed.

When Jim had opened his shop four years ago, he’d made a decent living. But then the computers had gradually stopped coming in. Laptops these days weren’t made to be repaired. The internal components were often soldered together, making the only solution to simply buy another one. This had hit Jim’s business hard.

Now, he was barely hanging on to the shop by repairing cell phone screens.

And he hated doing it.

Growing frustrated with one of the phone screens, Jim groaned and shoved the whole mess away from him.

The bells on the front door jangled as the glass door swung open.

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