In late summer, heat sickness overtook visitors to the Museum, most of whom came there to take advantage of the air-conditioning. The heat affected people in vastly different ways. There were those who stared listlessly as their children stomped Teddy Grahams to dust on the floor, saying things like, “Don’t you want to look at the ancient Chinese hair combs? Aren’t the combs pretty?” Others were in a constant state of agitation; as if even inside the Museum’s well-chilled confines there was no escaping the penetrating rays of the sun. These people could be unreasonable, like the woman who wanted to speak to The Director because she felt a Van Gogh coaster set in the museum store was overpriced. “I want these coasters,” she yelled, standing at the cashiering station in drooping shorts. “But I’ll be damned if I’m paying $23.95!”

To be fair, the heat got to museum employees as well. It sucked any enthusiasm they had left for art, capital campaigns and family fun days right out of them. There was also the problem of too many extra-curriculars. In the evenings and on weekends there were so many ethnic street festivals, ice cream socials and farmers markets to attend, not to mention invitations to cabins, that they had little energy to spare on such things as purchasing art, writing press releases or making phone calls. In other words, work at the Museum ground to a halt.

One person at the Museum saw things differently. She seized upon summer as a golden opportunity to push her Agenda of Safety. Penny Allen, Human Relations Assistant and head of the Museum Safety Task Force, convened a meeting of her Safety Soldiers at the end of July. To be fair to the Safety Soldiers, most of them were conscripts. But not all were unwilling draftees; for instance, Christina Babcox, a senior-level guard greatly disturbed by what she saw happening in the galleries on a daily basis. Christina not only volunteered but also designed red, white and blue Safety Team t-shirts.

At the first meeting, Penny closed the conference room door and stood at the head of the table. She leaned forward and took a few seconds to look deep into the eyes of each team member. Then she began to speak slowly and methodically, as if she were explaining dental benefits to a new hire.

“You are sitting here today because, I hope, you believe you can actively participate in one of the most important, morally responsible and constructive movements for safety this museum has ever seen…”

“That’s right,” Christina said, interrupting Penny’s flow. “We’re done talking to the administration here. I’ve debated them, begged them, pleaded with them for more stanchions, more ropes, better signage. What have I gotten? Nothing.”

“Please, Christina, I believe I have the floor,” Penny said.

“Sorry.”

“The museum is filled with safety hazards,” Penny continued. “Not only for employees but for our guests. But even some of our guests are a safety hazard. At any given time there may be drug dealers, criminals and even potential terrorists walking our galleries, putting everyone at risk.”

“Listen, people,” Christina said. “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.”

“Wow,” Corey Feldman said, pausing in his quest to count all the little dots in the acoustic tiling. “That’s highly original.”

“What do you know?” Christina said. “You’re in your little office all the time.”

“My office is not little,” Corey said. “Listen, Penny, I don’t know how much help I can offer. I’m getting married in a few weeks and then I’m off to Fiji.”

“You’ve been called to serve, Corey,” Penny said, calling upon what she’d learned during college ROTC. “I can’t accept weak excuses like marriage and vacations. And that goes for giving birth, a death in the family and house fires as well.”

The room was silent. Jennifer Meeks, Administrative Assistant in Prints and Drawings, raised her hand.

“I don’t think I can be involved with this,” she said. “I’m a Quaker.”

“This is not about violence,” Penny said. “It’s about defending our museum. As soldiers you’ll become force-multipliers, assisting in the task of turning this museum around and making it a bastion of safety and peace.”

“Do you spend a lot of time on the Internet, Penny?” David Hines, staff photographer, asked.

“Enough talk,” Christina said. “Let’s just get to the assignments.”

Penny opened a file folder and pulled out several copies of a document, which she passed out to the Soldiers.

“We’ve identified a number of Code Reds within the museum,” she explained. “Code Reds consist of extreme hazards or areas that have received complaints from employees or visitors.”

“What we need to do today,” Christina said. “Is go around to some of these Code Reds and enforce the safety laws upon whomever is responsible for cleaning them up.”

“There are twenty items on this list,” Corey said. “I’ve only got twenty minutes and then I’ve gotta go. This afternoon is the Bank of America booze cruise and we need more money from them.”

“Fine,” Penny said. “Let’s select one item we feel must be dealt with immediately.”

The Soldiers shuffled through the pages of the report.

“Nothing is jumping out at me,” Mark Allen Potter, Assistant Curator of Textiles, said. “I mean, fire doors being propped? Is that really such a big deal?”

“It would be if you were thrown from the building on a gigantic fireball, which then caused the fire to spread to the houses across the street, killing kittens and children,” Christina said.

“OK,” Penny said. “How about this one - dangerous supply closet in Marketing & Public Relations. I didn’t know they had their own supply closet. Shouldn’t they be using the central supply?”

“Seems like a definite infraction to me,” Christina said and stood up.

“I’d like to take a moment to consider what we are about to do,” Penny said. “ We must prevail. We will prevail. We will be victorious in proving skeptics wrong. Our efforts today could change the course of history for the entire museum. Employees will be motivated with a new sense of activism…”

“Let’s roll,” Christina said, already bounding towards the door.

---

Jennifer was elected to be the Safety Team spokesperson, a tactical maneuver to get them in the door.

“Knock, knock,” Jennifer said, standing at the door to the Marketing & Public Relations suite, the rest of the Team hidden from view. “Is this a bad time?”

Phoebe looked up from the game of solitaire she was playing on her computer, irritated with the interruption.

“Do you need something?” she asked.

“Well, I’m here with the Safety Team and we’re following up on a report of an unsafe supply closet.”

“Unsafe supply closet?” Phoebe repeated.

Phoebe’s question was lost in the clamor of the rest of the team pushing through the door in a human chain, hands on the shoulders of the person in front of them, heads down as if they expected to have to break through the closet door with the force of their bodies.

“Where’s the closet?” Christina yelled. “Open the closet!”

“Why are you shouting?” Phoebe asked.

All the hubbub dislodged Carlotta from her dark office. She blinked in the light of the fluorescents, looking the Safety Team up and down.

“What’s this about?” Carlotta asked.

“We’re acting on an anonymous tip that your closet is a hazard,” Penny said. “The exact words used in the complaint, filed on June 23, were ‘death trap.’”

“I don’t think the state of our closet is any of your business,” Carlotta snapped.

“I’m going to clean the closet,” Phoebe said. “It’s on my to-do list.”

“We’re required to look it over and make an assessment,” Penny said. “If you’re found in violation of safety codes, you’ll be given 30 days to improve or stiffer penalties will be applied.”

“My God,” Carlotta said. “This isn’t a coal mine.”

“Please, could you just open the closet?” Penny said.

Phoebe went to a skinny, white door that blended in with the white wall and swung it open to reveal a nightmarish space crowded with office supplies, flower vases and broken office equipment.

“Oh, my,” Penny said, putting her hand over her mouth.

The team pressed forward. David Hines snapped digital photos.

“I didn’t say photos were OK,” Carlotta said.

“Carlotta, Phoebe, you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you here,” Mark Allen said. “Look at that middle shelf - its bulging under all the weight!”

“That could snap in half at any moment,” Penny said.

“Putting the pens and pencils at risk,” Carlotta said, rolling her eyes. “What’s the matter, don’t you guys have anything better to do today?”

“I feel a little nervous just standing here,” Jennifer Meeks said. “The way those bins of old markers are stacked… they’re giving me vertigo.”

“Who filed the report?” Carlotta demanded. “Who cares so much about our closet?”

“All reports remain anonymous,” Penny said. “What matters is that action is taken swiftly and justly and people are safe again. All those notebooks up near the light bulb could start a fire.”

“But the light is never on unless we’re in the closet, getting some supplies,” Phoebe said.

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” Mark Allen said, getting into his role of Soldier. “We’re talking worst case scenarios here, not what’s most likely.”

“Fine, we’ll clean the damn thing,” Carlotta said. “I have a headache. Phoebe, get me a Diet Coke.”

“This is the kind of thing that has to be taken care of right away,” Christina said. “Not tomorrow, not next week. Today!”

“OK, I’ll get to it right after lunch,” Phoebe said.

“I find your lack of urgency disappointing,” Christina said.

“It might be best if you postponed lunch,” Penny said.

Phoebe did postpone lunch and worked for the rest of the day on hauling everything out of the closet, dusting the shelves and throwing things away. Soon the entire office suite was filled with supplies and equipment. Coming back from a trip to the restroom, Carlotta twisted her ankle while picking her way through the wreckage.

“Please don’t say anything to the Soldiers,” Phoebe whispered, her face drawn and tired.

“Don’t worry,” Carlotta said. “Just keep going. Leave me be, I’ll crawl to safety.”

Christina returned at 4:53 to check on the progress. The entire closet was clean, the sagging shelf shored up with two-by-fours provided by maintenance, the light bulb free and clear of stacked paper products.

“OK,” Christina said as David took photos. “It looks like you’re in compliance. But don’t let this happen again. My God, don’t you understand? Something like this lowers the quality of life for all of us.”

“It won’t happen again,” Phoebe said, gathering her purse and uneaten lunch.

Carlotta emerged from her office, sunglasses already on.

“OK, I’m off. I’m getting together with my crazy friends tonight. You know, the public radio bunch? Don’t expect me before 11 tomorrow. What are you doing?”

“I was supposed to go to the Gathering of Greeks Festival to get dinner and then to an outdoor screening of I Am a Fugitive of a Chain Gang, but I’m too tired to go.”

“You poor thing,” Carlotta said. “Its horrible, horrible what they’re doing to us.”

Phoebe and Carlotta agreed that from now on they would not allow the Safety Team into the suite, no matter how much Christina threatened them. It would be a safety zone from the Safety Soldiers.

“Its like the attic in Ann Frank,” Carlotta said.

“Let’s not go that far,” Phoebe said, and then she went home to sit on her smallish porch, drink a glass of wine and watch the kids in the neighborhood hit each other with water balloons.

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