Constable Whittaker had served the Manchester police force for twenty years. He still wasn’t used to computers. So he rarely read the police department bulletins in his email box.
He stopped at a new police call box. He opened the door…and gasped. He blinked his eyes hard. What the devil?
He looked outside the box. It was the usual call box size, like a phone booth. Finally, he went inside.
Long corridors stretched before him. At least twenty police officers walked through the expansive entryway.
A Maitre’d greeted him warmly, “Welcome Mr. Whittaker! Here to freshen up?”
“What’s all this, then?”
“Perhaps you missed the memo. Our constabulary is under enormous pressures lately due to the dodgy goings on. So the department invested in stress relief upgrades.”
Whittaker’s hand shook as he pointed. “It’s bigger inside than outside!”
“Our friend The Doctor finally shared his technology with us.”
“What’s in here?”
“Showers and workout rooms behind me. Saunas and jacuzzis there. Pub and Snooker tables there.”
“Cor! Next, you’ll tell me there’s an airport here.”
Whittaker suddenly felt stupid. “Ignore me. Just being silly.”
The Maitre’d pointed. “Airport’s down there and to your left.”
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction: https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2017/08/13/sunday-photo-fiction-august-13th-2017/
Just in case anyone is unfamiliar with Doctor Who: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doctor_Who