I expected to find the basement as it had been in my youth. There would be items for experiments and a few more to prove simple scientific principles. I’ll keep it all for sentimental reasons.
I was wrong. When I unlocked the door, it swung effortlessly toward me, as it always had. Instead of stepping inside to turn on the light, I was surprised when it came on instantly. In addition to the intense lighting, I heard computers booting and other equipment coming to life. I descended the stairs only to have my senses further assaulted. Across the room, a worktable ran the entire width.
On the table was a bank of computer monitors, ten altogether. There were five high-end Mac Pro towers, each supporting two monitors. Above the table was a shelf filled with external hard drives. The microscope was on the wall to my right, resting on a stainless-steel table with an array of modern lab equipment. Under the table were conventional file cabinets and a shelf filled with ring binders, like the ones Uncle Phillip used to keep lab notes. A printer and a dedicated scanner were at the end of that wall. TV monitors covered the left wall. They appeared to be part of some surveillance system as they showed different parts of the farm. The scenes would pan and then change to another camera. To know how many cameras there were, I would have to devote time to counting them, as several were feeding each monitor. At the bottom of the stairs, I was both dazed and confused. Why had my uncle needed or wanted all this equipment? The simple science teacher who could entertain me for hours with a slide of pond water and a cardboard tube must have expanded his horizons.
I turned to the wall that ran behind the staircase. There, all alone, was an old Rock-Ola jukebox. The wall itself was blank except for a single electrical receptacle. Frayed and broken, the cord of the jukebox was on the floor, and the plug was missing. I don’t know how long I stood staring at the jukebox. It was as out of place as a canoe in a yacht show. I walked to the jukebox, which was fully loaded with fifty 45rpm records. The titles were like a walk-through of musical history. I remembered some of the records and artists from my childhood and teenage years, but some were older, and I didn’t recognize them. Without considering it, I decided to fix the jukebox.
As I bent to assess the damage to the frayed cord of the jukebox, a bell rang behind me. It sounded like one of the bells we used to mount on the handlebars of our bicycles and press with our thumbs as we rode through the neighborhood. I dropped the cord and walked back to the other side of the room to find the bell's origin. The ringing was coming from the wall of security monitors. There was an amber ring around the third monitor in the second row. On the screen, I could see a car turning into the driveway. It was not Sammy, so I didn’t recognize the vehicle. Three monitors away, movement caught my eye. As I turned quickly, I could have sworn that I saw a woman jump off the end of the porch, and I could have sworn she didn’t have any clothes on. I laughed when I realized it was only the white dog. It climbed up on the porch and lay down with its head facing the driveway: another ring and monitor showing the approaching car. I ran up the stairs, locked the door, and walked out onto the porch to receive my guest.