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noticed in the mirror more gray hairs in my brown thatch, which had to be persuaded to stay in place every day. After only one cut incurred while shaving, I dressed, noted with some pleasure my size 34 waist, put on my wire rims, and called myself ready. But 5:30 a.m. was too early for any restaurant to be open. Well, then, to work. Maybe I could microwave an old cup of coffee and requisition a candy bar from the candy machine at work.
    I got into the Jeep and took a deep smell of new car. I loved that smell. The sound of leather crinkling. I had a hunch that was why people preferred leather. Maybe it was primeval, I didn’t know, but it gave one a feeling of smug satisfaction.  
    I arrived at the station, still in the dark of night. There were no other cars in the parking lot. Naturally there wouldn’t be; no one was scheduled to be there until 6:30 a.m. and no one in their right mind shows up early at that time of the day. Nobody but a cranky O.I.C. Was I cranky? Nah . . .
    I keyed in the proper code on the control box and entered the station. I was right proud of myself for taking only one day to learn it. There were keys in my pocket, but they were there only in case I forgot the code, and forgetting the code was like a kid stepping on a crack in the sidewalk. Break your Mama’s back, indeed!
    One more thing to do after I was in the place, and that was to key in another code at yet another box so some operator zillions of miles away in the lower forty-eight would know I was legit. It was in the process of doing that very thing that I thought I heard a rustle, but after turning the lights on, I decided it must have been a rodent. Voles are everywhere, even in Alaska. If I happened to think of it later, I would ask the custodians to be on the lookout for a furry something or other.  
    Now that I was in the place, I headed toward the rec room. Praise be! My prayers were answered! There were at least two cups left in the pot from the day before. My day was gonna be a success.
    It was while I was standing there, whistling a silent tune while I waited on the microwave, that I heard another rustle. Yep, I was definitely going to talk to the guys about rodents. But when I heard retreating footsteps and the slam of a door, the hackles rose on my neck. At first, I thought it was somebody showing up for work, even if it was early, but my loudest hello couldn’t stir a soul. Hmm . . . something strange going on? Crap! I looked at my watch: 6:10 a.m. and still no cars in the parking lot that I could see from the back window. Well, hell, I needed that cup of coffee. That and a candy bar would have to do.
    As I sat in my office munching on the candy bar, I started thinking perverse thoughts, like what time did the Boss get to the office? What the hell. I decided to give the old boy a call. The phone rang just once.
    “Yeah, Bronski?” the Boss said in a quiet voice.
    “Uh, Boss?”
    “Yeah. Whaddaya want?”
    “How did you know it was me?” Then it hit me. “Oh, I see, you have one of those boxes that tells who’s calling.”
    “Bronski . . . ” he croaked, whereupon a coughing jag commenced. When finished with what was certain to kill him someday, he continued. “Bronski, how you got to where you got amazes me. What can I do for you?”
    I had meant this call to be one of those cheerful “don’t you ever sleep?” kind of calls, but I could see he was in no mood for that. So I stammered around and eventually I got across the notion that because I couldn’t sleep I got to the office early, and that instead of hearing rodents, I heard a human skittering out the back door. There was a moment’s silence, and then, “Just what I needed to hear, Bronski. Listen, you’ll have to handle everything pretty much on your own down there. Keep me abreast, but I have my own problems. Two O.I.C.’s need emergency leave, and there has been a fight out on the main floor at the airport office between a manager and a worker. Between