Les Enfants Terribles
The log of Jeremie Belpois, eighth grade Kadic Academy, October ninth…
A few weeks ago, I was looking for parts to finish my machines (miniature robots, to be exact) and naturally, I couldn’t find anything around the school I could use. So I decided, upon a moment of pure genius on my part, to rummage for scrap in the abandoned factory a kilometer or two from the school. I figured, as it was a factory that built those things once, that I could find some interesting mechanical parts scattered amongst it’s hallow grounds and I wasn’t disappointed, either.
Incroyable! I stumbled in some sort of complex with an entire computer lab with scanners and especially this totally intense mainframe. For the time being, I haven’t told anyone. It’s my little secret. It’s the coolest thing; forgive my American sounding slang that has ever happened to me. But if it sounded good now, that wasn’t even the end, that night even though I was frightened half-to-death I took it upon myself to start up the computer.
It was a small hindrance of fear that put the tremor in his hand as he reached for the switch. The thickly plated machine, embroidered with golden plated designs and hidden wires. All matched down to a single symbol, a queer looking eye, it targeted down to the center like a vicious beast. All of it was interesting. All of it was frightening.
“I hope I’m not going to be regretting this…”
Regretting? This be speckled blonde was the protagonist of this tale, there was no regretting unless it was in a romantic relationship or letting an enemy live. He remained cautious, grasping the switch in a grip only a frightened child could have and pulled the switch down.
The machine howled and the floor rumbled with joy as energy began to surge through its joints. It lifted perhaps even higher than once stood, the opened shafts seized up and belched light from its core. It’s spilt energy causing a sort of explosive push, sending the young genius flying harshly into the wall with a pained thud.
“Jésus Christ…”
His once sophisticated air that came from his slicked back hair and expensive clothing had been not just slain but completely demolished as his hair came wildly undone from the gel and his glasses astray upon the bride of his nose gave a rag tag wannabe look that only came from the blast. Coughing lightly into his pale fist, he stood back up to stare at the mechanic beast.