The worker witch glanced at Ruby, her lips pressed into a thin line, and her tone was dismissive. "What can you do? This computer won’t work until tomorrow, so there’s no point," she said, waving her hand as if to shoo Ruby away.
But before Ruby could respond, the old witch stepped closer to the desk. Her trembling hands clasped together as she begged, her voice quivering. "No, please... help me. I can’t keep coming back . At my age, even walking here is difficult. This mistake is causing me so much trouble... Please, isn’t the government office supposed to serve the public?"
"You should let me see what’s wrong. Maybe I can help," Ruby said, her voice cutting through the tense atmosphere.
The worker witch frowned, glancing at the old witch whose teary eyes were now brimming with desperation. A flicker of unease crossed the worker’s face—she knew the rules. Mistreating senior citizens was strictly forbidden, and if anyone reported her for making one cry, her position could be at risk. Even though the situation wasn’t entirely her fault, the consequences would fall on her.
"Fine," the worker said begrudgingly, standing up with a resigned sigh. She motioned to Ruby with a sharp tilt of her head. "Come over here."
Ruby noticed a small space to pass to the other side of the desk and quickly made her way around. She could feel the old witch’s hopeful gaze on her back as she approached the faulty computer.
Ruby bent slightly, her fingers brushing over the keyboard as she examined the computer’s screen. The monitor displayed a sluggish "Processing~" message that blinked faintly, stuck in what seemed like an endless loop.
She pressed a few keys like Ctrl, Alt, and F5, trying to refresh the system, and even hit the Enter key to confirm any hidden commands. The keyboard seemed complete, with all its function keys and a standard layout, but something felt off. The responsiveness was poor, and some keys required more pressure than usual to register.
Her focus shifted to the monitor, which wasn’t HD and had a dim, washed-out display that made it hard to follow errors clearly. She accessed the equivalent of a Task Manager by clicking through the system’s basic settings, noticing several unused background programs eating up memory.
Ruby’s eyes narrowed as she spotted a potential issue—a program labeled QueueOverload running multiple instances, which could be clogging the system’s processing capacity. She prioritized closing these unnecessary tasks to free up resources, but as she glanced at the bottom corner of the screen, something else caught her attention: the system clock seemed incorrect, and she suspected it might be interfering with scheduled processes. Her fingers hesitated on the keyboard as she considered whether adjusting it could resolve the problem.
The witch worker stared at Ruby with wide eyes, utterly amazed by how swiftly and confidently she used the computer. Even after attending an expensive computer course, there were things Ruby was doing that she hadn’t even heard of. The way Ruby moved her fingers across the keyboard and navigated the screen made her feel like she was watching an expert in action.
When Ruby suddenly stopped typing, the worker hesitated before asking, "What’s wrong, miss?"
Ruby glanced at her and asked, "Does your computer’s tasks work according to the system’s date? Like, if it’s set on the wrong date, could it affect how files are processed or tasks are scheduled?"
The worker blinked in confusion. She didn’t understand a word of what Ruby just said, and embarrassment started to creep onto her face.
Ruby noticed and offered a reassuring smile. "It’s alright. Let me explain simply. Computers use dates to organize and process tasks. If the date is wrong, it can confuse the system and delay things—like missing deadlines. So, if the computer thinks today is yesterday, it might not let you process today’s work."
The worker’s expression shifted as realization dawned. "Oh... I never thought of that."
"So, can I fix that?" Ruby asked, her tone calm but firm.
"Sure, sure... Go ahead," the worker witch replied, stepping aside nervously.
Ruby quickly adjusted the system date, her fingers moving decisively over the keys. As soon as she hit Enter, the computer let out a soft beep, and the previously stuck processes started running smoothly.
When Ruby raised her head, she noticed the old witch looking at her with eyes filled with admiration and happiness. Even the people behind in line were staring at her as though she were a miracle worker.
"You’ve solved my greatest problem," the worker witch said in amazement, clearly impressed.
Ruby simply nodded her head as she returned to her spot behind the counter.
"Thank you, child! God bless you," the old witch said, her voice trembling with gratitude as she placed her frail hands gently on Ruby’s arm.
Ruby just smiled softly. The old witch left with a content smile after her work was finally done, clutching her documents tightly to her chest.
"So, what’s your issue?" the worker asked Ruby in a friendlier tone now, her earlier gruffness replaced by a hint of respect.
"I’ve lost my PIC card, and I want to get a new and updated one," Ruby explained calmly.
The worker nodded, reaching for a stack of forms. "Alright, tell me your full name, and fill this form," she said, handing Ruby the form along with a pen.
Ruby nodded and moved to the side, finding a small counter to lean on as she began filling out the form.
The form was straightforward, asking for her full name, old address, current address, the reason for losing the card, and her signature. Ruby worked methodically, filling each section with clear, precise handwriting. After a moment, she reviewed her answers to make sure everything was accurate before returning the form to the worker.
The worker quickly processed the form, her hands moving efficiently as she typed into the computer. After a few moments, she looked up with a smile.
"It’s done! Your new PIC card will be delivered to your new address," she said, handing Ruby a receipt.
Ruby smiled and nodded, grateful for the smooth process. "Thank you," she said softly, turning to leave.
—To be continued...🪄