Phase TWO: Different Class
Jim: Maybe Scranton doesn't seem like revolution country, but...
----
Pam had been having a rough time of it lately.
That, really, was the origin of Jim's vision.
On Valentine's (of all days!) she had discovered Roy had destroyed the large box containing many of her childhood drawings during the accident several weeks earlier with the Hibachi and the blowtorch. This discovery had left Pam so distracted, she had slipped the next day at the office and earned herself a nasty gash across the forehead. Dwight had, of course, leapt to the rescue; he still insisted that it was only his quick response time that had saved her, but she later told Jim that his efforts had almost cost her an eye.
Jim (always the first to be struck by an injustice, at least where Pam was concerned) was struck by the sheer injustice of it. And, as with any problem of any stripe that might occur in Pam's life, he took it upon himself to deliver a winning solution.
He just had to wait for the right time to launch his plan.
----
It had been a typical slow morning at the Scranton branch of Dunder-Mifflin. Although it was nearly eleven, Michael had yet to make an appearance, which was neither unusual nor entirely unwelcome. Productivity was virtually nil, but still measurably higher than when Michael was in the office, and Jim felt wholly justified in creeping over to Pam's desk for a few jelly beans.
"So, what are you up to?" he asked, his features shifting into a shy half-smile without having the common decency to ask first.
"I've been reading random pages on Wiki," Pam admitted, fairly ashamed at the direction her life and career seemed to have swerved to while she was asleep at the wheel.
This sounded miles more interesting than anything Jim had going on at the moment."Find out anything interesting?"
Pam wrinkled her nose, not entirely certain herself. "Apparently Corey Hart turned down the role of Marty McFly"
"Wow..." Jim gasped, both impressed and amazed but this surprise revelation, "that would have been a much better movie."
Pam raised a dubious eyebrow at this comment. "You're putting a lot of faith in Corey, aren't you?"
"Pam, you've got it made with the guy in shades," he replied as though this should be obvious.
Pam couldn't help but laugh.
----
Pam: Have you gotten that feeling like you just want to hear new music.. but you don't really know what?
She looks to the camera for some sort of recognition.
Pam: Like there's this great band in your mind, but you don't know who they are or what they really sound like? And you just keep digging and digging, but nothing seems right...
She lets the silence hang for a moment.
Pam: And then I'll just hear this amazing song out nowhere and I have to ask Jim what it is.
She smiles.
Pam: He always knows.
----
When Jim found his way back to his desk, Dwight had once again been hammering down on his keyboard. When he noticed Jim's approach, Dwight's hands had instinctively flown to shield the precious secrets enshrined on his computer screen from the tainted eyes of the infidel Halpert, but it was for naught. Jim was too caught up in his own thoughts to pay much attention to Dwight, much less insult him in earnest.
Of course, Dwight immediately remedied that particular deficiency.
"What were you two talking about?" The suspicion in Dwight's was a dripping constant, like the leak in the ceiling of the bedroom Jim had grown up in.
"Nothing you'd care about," Jim answered coldly.
"I know you two are planning something," Dwight insisted.
"Now, how could you know that?" Jim asked the question while managing to sound completely disinterested in the answer. He was more than a little proud of that.
"Because you two are always planning something," Dwight hissed.
Jim couldn't in all honesty deny this, so he merely shrugged in mute agreement.
"So, what's the secret?" Dwight asked grubbily.
"I'm pregnant and you're the father," Jim answered, his face blank of any emotion.
Dwight gave him the regular snort of disgust. He might have even called Jim "girl" again, Jim wasn't quite sure.
"I'm sorry," Jim trailed on, "I didn't want you to find out this way..."
"Until Michael gets here, I am the ranking staff member of this branch," Dwight growled angrily.
Jim did his best to interrupt this line of thinking. "Dwight, just because you decide you're the ranking staff member..."
But, alas, trying to stop Dwight was like standing in front of a speeding steam-powered train, albeit with slightly messy results. "I have a right to know what everyone in this office is talking about."
But Jim knew Dwight so well it left him sweaty, sobbing, and unable to sleep, and thus more than able to find another escape route. "So, what are you doing on your computer, anyway?" As impossible as it sounded, Dwight actually seemed to get paler and more reptilian at the comment. "Are you IMing your Trekkie buddies or something?"
"I broke away from the Trekkies years ago," Dwight had tried to mask himself by increasing his level of hostility, but Jim could see that he had successfully left him rattled.
"Really?" Jim was more than a little tickled with the reaction he had been able to provoke, but decided to ease up somewhat in the interest of prolonging Dwight's overall agony.
Dwight nodded curtly. "I got into a flamewar over the Universal Translator," he explained, his voice assuming a wormish cast.
----
Jim: Any time Dwight has a secret, I try my best to torture him with it as much as I can, but I never try to find out what it is.
Pause.
Jim: Because I'm always happier not knowing.
----
"Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam."
"Hi, this is Colonel Sanders," the high-pitched, creaking voice on the other end said between giggles, "do you have crispy thighs?"
"Hi, Michael," Pam replied in bored frustration.
"Heeey, Personal Pam Pizza," Michael breezed, apparently not too bothered about his joke being shot down before really getting off the ground, "could you put me on speaker?"
Pam complied and soon Michael's voice filled the entire office like a poison gas. "Everyone, this is your fearless leader. I'm afraid I won't be able to join you today." There was a collective sigh of relief from all present except Dwight.
"What's wrong Michael?" Dwight broke in. "Are you sick? Do you need me to take care of you? I can bring soup."
"No, no." Somehow Pam could hear Michael shaking his head violently over the phone. "Just some business with Corporate. You know how it is... blah blah blah..." now Pam could see Michael miming sock-puppets with his hands. Not for the first time, she was moved to nausea by how well she had come to know her boss. "I actually might be here for..." at that point Michael could clearly be heard speaking to someone in the background and Pam distinctly heard childish giggling "... two, maybe three days." The shoulders of all those gathered seemed to raise a few inches all around, again with only one notable exception. "Until I get back, Jim is in charge."
Before Dwight could raise his voice in protest, the connection was severed and the usual harsh sting of a dial tone, now strangely melodic, cut through the air.
Jim couldn't believe it, he had thought he might have to wait weeks or months to spring his plan into place, now a scenario more perfect than any he could have ever contrived had simply fallen in to his lap. He briefly considered the similar circumstance that had surrounding every other successful revolution in history as he leapt onto the couch and demanded attention. "Okay. As the ranking staff member of this branch," Jim announced in the loftiest tone he found himself capable of, "I hereby declare this office a separate and sovereign state, with all rights of self-governance and... something."
Pam offered up an exuberant smile while most of his coworkers merely looked bored.
Dwight saw this as an excellent opportunity to fly into a rage. "You don't have the authority!"
"No, I'm sorry, but this is well within my powers," Jim replied in an appropriately diplomatic tone. "Pam, if you could please design the flag and the money."
A wave of sudden patriotism ran through Pam as she agreed. "I'll have the rough drafts for you by lunch."
----
Jim, grinning boyishly: I could not be happier with the way this revolution is going.