Going into the back to change my clothes and get ready for my cleaning shift out on the floor, I was surprised to find Harry Takahashi still at his desk. It was nearly seven o'clock, and he normally was out of the office by six at the latest. "Hey Harry, burning the midnight oil?"
He raised his head up and grinned, shaking his head. "No. But one of the things that I’m quite happy to not have inherited from my great grandfather's homeland is the penchant for working long hours doing busy work. Unfortunately for me, the Japanese consulate isn't quite as enamored with the idea of family time as I am, so they see nothing wrong with sending me another report to complete and present to them at nine tomorrow morning that they just happened to deliver via courier of all things at five this afternoon. I'll be here at least another two hours."
"Sounds like fun," I quipped. "Anything you want help with?"
"You don't want down this rabbit hole," Harry said with a laugh. "Oh, by the way, there's a box in the janitor's room for you. Someone noticed you've been having problems with the floor chemicals, so they got you a face mask with a filter for when you're running the buffer. It should help with the eyes and nose."
I was touched. I hadn't said anything, but he’d noticed, and I was sure that the mask was from him, most likely paid for out of his own pocket. He really was a good boss to work for. "Thanks. I'll get to that later, I think I'll tackle the Kokuho room first tonight. Hey, those MIB you have outside, they ever go home, or do you just recharge their batteries at the socket twice a day?" I asked, causing him to laugh again.
"No, they go home, but you'll still have one standing outside the room from eleven o'clock on. By the way, you want to make sure the room's all done by midnight, the guard has strict orders to lock the gate on it then and not open it up to anyone short of God himself until seven tomorrow morning. So unless you want to get possibly locked in there, I suggest getting done quickly."
Nodding, I left Harry alone and went to the locker room to change. I actually had two lockers, one for my tour guide clothes and another for my janitorial clothes, which were nothing more than an oversized set of faded blue coveralls with a JANM patch stitched over the left breast pocket. They were torn in two places and a bit smelly from the constant exposure to chemicals and cleaning solvents, but at least I could wear regular clothes underneath. Pulling the coveralls on over my jeans and sweatshirt, I shivered still. To save money, the JANM shut off the heat at closing time, except in certain exhibit rooms. Sure it was Los Angeles, but it still got chilly in winter once the sun went down.
I found the box on top of my locker, chuckling at the look of the device. It seriously looked like a gas mask, with a clear face shield that gave me pretty good vision while the mouth and nose were covered by a sealed section that had a filter at the front. I tried it on and found it not too uncomfortable, so I figured I'd give it a try. It couldn't be worse than breathing the chemicals. Besides, it was obviously not a cheap gadget, and it had to have at least some sort of positive effect on my sinuses.
I got to work, first taking my cart full of supplies over to the Kokuho exhibit. Things were delayed temporarily as one of the guards gave my cart a once-over, making sure my broom was actually a broom, I guess. It didn't take too long, and I soon was able to get to work.
After using my giant puff ball feather duster on the cases, it was eventually time to get the floor. I pushed the large dust mop around, working in first clockwise then counterclockwise laps to get every bit of dust from the floor. As I pushed, my eyes were drawn to the two famous katana, nestled in the same glass case on stands draped in contrasting silk. Masamune was nestled on the purest white silk to denote the nobility of the sword and its maker, while the supposedly demon-possessed Muramasa blade sat on blood red silk. They didn't have handles or blade guards, but were just the pure steel of their original designs. They were both beautiful, even to someone like me. The way the lights glimmered off the steel, which was marked with the wave-like design the Japanese called a hamon, the true sign of a great katana, left both absolutely breathtaking. I knew I'd get plenty of time to look at the blades over the following three months, but wanted to take this first opportunity before the exhibit opened to the public the next day to appreciate it before I was leading groups of junior high school kids and such through later on.