Special Effects Cue

Midday programming demanded high-octane physical drama, and static air simply wouldn't cut it. On the side table, I confronted an idle miniature metal desk fan—a dormant wind machine waiting for executive direction. Scaling the stack of glossy magazines beneath it, I leaned over the brushed metal casing and jammed my palm straight down onto the heavy rocker switch. The motor coughed, whining up into an electric drone as a sharp gust blasted across the tabletop, sending loose paper slips swirling into the air like ticker tape. With one hand planted on my hip against the artificial gale, I owned every inch of the tempest.