I suppose the term “office” could be applied to it, although “closet” came more to mind. The closets in my cabin were significantly larger than her working space. “It’s cramped, I know,” she said. “A proverbial understatement. Tell you what, Ms. Jenkins. If you’ll tell me how many words you want this to be, I’ll just go back to my cabin and write it there.” “Do you have a laptop computer with you?” she asked. “No. The last thing I intended to do on this crossing was to write.” “I can arrange for the Computer Learning Center to send one up to you.” “I’m not terribly computer literate,” I said. “It would have to be a simple word processing program.” “They have them all, Mrs. Fletcher.” After a few minutes of discussion about the piece I was to write, I returned to my cabin to await delivery of a computer. Fifteen minutes later, a young man arrived, carrying a small, portable model. How so much technology could be crammed into such a tiny machine boggled my mind.
