Sorry it's been a while. Here's another short story-- this one wasn't in the Introduction Of Sorts collection, but it was written around that time, so it's also one of my older works.
I did present this during a creative writing class I took recently, and it was well received both by my professor and my classmates. A few of them thought that it was an excerpt from the beginning of a novel or novella length story, rather than a stand-alone short. I think that's a good thing-- it suggests that the events of the tale imply a fuller world and narrative. However, it is just this one short story.
At least, for now.
Anyways, I hope you like it.
I just now realized how useless a thing that is to say. It's not as if I hope you are bored or insulted. Logically, it goes without saying that I want you to enjoy my story. Then again, I sincerely do hope that my little story will bring you some measure of happiness, so I will say it, regardless of the redundancy of it. Logic has little to do with the matter.
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MAINTENANCE
By
William Bowles
A frigid
wind swept across the snow-choked plains, kicking up a white haze
against the deep, crimson sky. The temperature dropped by the hour,
and the night grew darker in equal measure, but within the concrete
walls of the factory, the evening crew persevered.
“These
machines sure require a lot of attention, don’t they?” Simon
asked, pulling his fleece hat down over his ears. Though the steel
and concrete of the factory walls kept the howling winds at bay,
winter's chill always managed to sneak in.
“If it
could fix itself they wouldn't have to call us out here, now would
they?” Carl retorted.
He
scraped off a layer of frost that had built up on the outside of the
machine, then began to unscrew a plate to check the wiring within.
“How
much do you think a machine like this costs?” Simon asked.
Carl
ignored the question. “Hand me the pliers.”
Simon
held the tool just out of reach.
“Not
until you answer my question,” he teased.
“Quit
it, Simon. We’re on the job. Don’t waste my time.”
“How
much did this thing cost?” Simon insisted.
Carl
sighed. “Ten billion,” he guessed.
Simon
whistled. “Wow. That’s a lot of money,” he said, though he had
imagined a greater sum. “Really? Ten billion?”
“I
don’t know. I'm just guessing,” Carl said, and snatched the
pliers from Simon's unresisting hand. “Maybe twenty or thirty.
Hell, it could be one billion or a hundred billion for all I know. I
just know how much I get paid for repairing it.”
“And
how much we get docked if we don’t!” Simon chimed in.
“Yeah.
So stop distracting me and let’s make sure this thing is good to
go.”
“Okay.”
For a
little while, they didn’t speak as they checked wire connections,
cleaned out dirt and ice, and replaced components that were damaged
or worn. As Carl climbed down into the control chamber, he wished
that his coworker would just stay quiet, though past experience told
him that that was unlikely.
“What
if it overheats again?” Simon asked. “What’d happen?”
Carl
sighed. It seemed to him that Simon lacked the ability to keep his
mouth closed for more than fifteen consecutive seconds. He counted.
“We
were lucky they brought it in soon enough this time. If it had been
farther out, they might not have been able to recover it at all.”
“Really?”
“Yes.
Really.”
“But
what if it does?” Simon asked. “I mean, overheat again.”
A part
of Carl wanted to tell his novice coworker to stop asking unnecessary
questions, but realized that it was a relevant inquiry. Simon was
worried about possible consequences, which was understandable.
“We’ll
probably get fired for doing a half-assed job.”
“Oh.
Is that all?” he was a bit relieved, having imagined medieval
torture.
“Well,
actually,” Carl hesitated as he opened the main hatch, “actually,
you’d only get a pay cut. I’d get fired.”
“’Cause
I’m just a technician and you’re a chief engineer, right? So
you’re the one responsible if something goes wrong, right?”
“Yeah.
That’s right.”
Simon
nodded. “Okay, but what about the machine?”
“Oh,
it’d be ruined. One more over-heat and this baby’s done for.”
Carl patted the steel hull affectionately. “Especially if it breaks
down way out there. Not like last time, when it was so nearby.”
With the
hatch open, Carl climbed down the latter into the machine's interior
“Do
these things overheat easily?” Through a nearby window, Simon
watched the sky as it faded slowly from a deep blue to the cold black
of obsidian.
“Only
if the main cooling line is faulty.” Carl called out from inside
the machine. He removed the damaged line as he spoke, which had
become worn out over the past several months. Simon saw the old
cooling line tossed out of the hatch and he stepped to the edge of
his elevated platform, watching the length of blue-coated tubing
tumble down to the ground below. Simon gulped. He had never been fond
of heights.
“If
there’s even a small flaw in the coating,” Carl called out, his
voice accompanied by the mechanical clatter of tool-work, “it will
eventually wear out, and that’d be the end of it.”
Simon
looked skeptical and opened his mouth, but Carl cut him off as if he
could see him.
“Yes,
even in this weather. The temperature outside doesn’t do so much to
the mechanics inside. Not as much as you’d think. It’s all the
friction, burning fuel, and electronics, you see. All that generates
a lot of heat.”
Carl
then appeared head-first as he climbed up out of the hatch, closing
it behind him.
Again,
Simon pondered. He contemplated his next question more carefully. For
a minute, neither of them said a word. Carl was beginning to hope
Simon had finally shut up once and for all, though his hopes were in
vain.
“Um…
Carl?” Simon asked reluctantly.
“What
is it, Simon?”
Almost
afraid of the answer, he asked “How many people… will it kill?”
Carl
shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. A thousand, perhaps,” he
answered casually. “Maybe more. Hand me the welder.”
When he
was not given the tool, he looked over at Simon who stood staring
back at him; pale as snow.
“A…
A thousand…?” he asked weakly.
“Yeah.
Give or take,” Carl said. “Maybe ten thousand. If it does its
job.”
“But…
why?”
“Why?
Because of all the rebels in Jadensburg, you dolt. We send this baby
in and shoot up a few city blocks… it’ll teach them a lesson.”
“But
it isn’t just killing rebels, is it? It’s going to kill innocent
people too, isn’t it?”
“Well,
there's bound to be some collateral. A machine can’t tell the
difference. Besides, it doesn’t have to eliminate the rebel
militia. All it needs to do is send a message.”
“A
message?” Simon retorted in disbelief.
“Yeah.
Something along the lines of ‘this is what happens to traitors.’”
“But
they’re not all traitors. Most of the people there are innocent,
aren’t they? Just… regular people. Probably didn’t do anything
bad at all. Don’t you think that’s wrong?”
“Oh, I
know it’s wrong. Everything’s wrong,” Carl said wearily as he
cleaned some debris out from the crevices of one of the massive
Gatling gun barrels “It’s not a matter of who's right, because no
one is. But if I walk away, someone else will do the repairs.
Besides, I need money, too. I stopped caring a long time ago. It just
made things harder.”
“But…
why? They’re just innocent people. They didn’t do anything wrong.
They’re just regular people like you and me. Why do we have to kill
them?”
Carl
turned to him, and shot him an accusing look. “You got a complaint,
Simon?”
Overhearing
the argument, another worker on a platform some yards away called out
“Is everything okay over there?”
Engineers
and repairmen on other platforms looked at them, too.
Carl
looked at Simon. “Well?”
“No,
no. I… I’ve got no complaint,” he said submissively.
“Everything's okay over here,”
“Nothing
to worry about,” Carl replied to the other engineer, who went back
to what he had been doing. The others too soon returned their
attention to other things.
“Alright
then,” Carl said, calming down, “let’s finish up and get outta
here.”
Simon
nodded sullenly. “Okay.”
“Hey,
lighten up, will ya?”
“I
know. It’s just… Have you ever thought of--”
“I try
not to,” Carl interrupted. He shook his head, trying to forget
about what his actions were going to cause.
Simon
kept mostly quiet after that. If he had any further questions, he
kept them to himself, which Carl appreciated. The silence gave him
time to think without distraction. But his mind wasn’t on the job
at hand.
The
repair crews checked the giant treads for damage, but they were fine.
Simon found a crushed and rusted old bicycle that must have been
stuck under the treads for a while, but there was nothing of
consequence. One of the rocket launchers needed a replacement
igniter; cameras seventeen, nine, and twenty-two needed cleaning; and
the paint job needed touching up where a Molotov cocktail had burned
it.
By
around one o'clock in the morning, the repairs were nearly done.
Everyone was exhausted, yet they were all grateful it hadn't taken
longer. One by one, teams finished their jobs, lowered their lifts,
and vacated the facility. As Carl finished the last of the tasks, he
turned to Simon.
“So.
Ah… Looks like we’re about done here,” he said, hesitantly.
“You go on. I’ll close up.”
“You
sure?” Simon asked.
Carl
shook his head. “Don't worry about it. We're just about done
anyway.”
Simon
nodded. He flipped the switch to lower his platform. Once he reached
the ground, he stepped down and made his way toward the exit.
Carl
looked at the hatch and thought; recent words echoing through his
mind.
From the
toolbox he produced a pair of pliers, and then paused. He gave
himself one last chance to reconsider, but eventually decided to go
ahead. He opened the hatch and went down into the tiny maintenance
chamber within the machine's interior. With the pliers he stripped a
bit of the coating from the main cooling line and left.
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What is the moral of this story? Some of my classmates interpreted it as an anti-war message. While war is generally an ill thing indeed, that is not the purpose of this tale. After all, there is no war involved; it is an internal conflict. "War" implies two sides fighting against each other. The horrors described by Carl are not
war, but
massacre. If this story is anti-
anything, it's murder, corruption, and apathy. If its about anything, its about bravery, and standing up for what's right, no matter the consequences. Or something like that.
Then again, Maintenance is primarily a form of entertainment. I want it to be enjoyed. If it has any positive impact on the world, then that is a greater thing than I could ever have hoped for. Yet this is not a soap box from which I protest this or that. This is meant to be a fun story, first and foremost. I do hope that my stories can inspire some degree of good in the world, but it's not meant to be a message merely in the guise of entertainment.
One of my classmates said that she imagined Carl joining the rebellion and having a story of his own, in which he fights against the tyrannical government, or something like that.
While I was glad the story was able to imply further events in her imagination, that's not really the point of the story. The nature of the rebellion and the government are merely background, intentionally left vague. In fact, who's to say that the rebels are even the good guys? Sure, somebody in the higher-ups ordered a horrific internal strike at a city believed to support the rebellion, but A) that doesn't necessarily mean that everyone in charge feels the same, and B) it doesn't mean that the rebels are any better. They could be just a violent bunch of anarchists are just lashing out at authority for the sake of it. Conflicts are not always that simple. In fact, they rarely are.
I think one reason why she imagined that sort of scenario is because we Americans love us a good rebellion. Everything from Star Wars to the founding of our own nation is centered on the brave and idealistic rebels fighting against an oppressive force that seems impossibly strong. Something about overcoming impossible odds and the overthrow of unjust authority is just so ingrained in our very being that we can connect to it on a subconscious level.
Or something like that.
I get the idea that this isn't going to be the last of my long-winded ramblings.
Anyways, feel free to share your thoughts, interpretations, feelings, questions, observations, etc.
I hope you enjoyed this story.
P.S. I will post the 10th page of the Hero's Dilemma comic soon. Maybe today or tomorrow.
EDIT: It's up now!
