Fic: The Last Time Sam Lowry
Title: The Last Time Sam Lowry
Word Count: 1,039 (10x100 plus headers)
Rating: PG
Summary: Written off the ‘Ten last times’ prompt from justprompts. In semi-chronological order, these are the last times Sam Lowry (dot dot dot).
spoke with his father
They talk about University. About Sam’s graduation next month. About where he might go afterward. ‘The Ministry’ is the obvious answer, but which department? They talk about girls, a bit. Sam’s last attempt at a relationship fell apart not long before the bombing, and mother was disappointed. Jeremiah only gives a winking grin. “No rush, eh?”
When they’ve run out of things to say, Sam picks up his jacket and stands, but he lingers by the hospital bed.
“Father -- if something should go wrong tomorrow-”
But Jeremiah quickly cuts him off. “You’re a good boy, Sam. Don’t worry your head.”
interviewed for a position
“So. Son of a well-respected Overseer for Retrieval Operations, graduated from Minster’s College...” Kurtzmann shrugs, blows a puff of air from beneath his mustache, puts down the paperwork, and looks at Sam with curiosity. “What on Earth are you doing here?”
Sam shifts uncomfortably in the chair. He can’t tell the truth: that he doesn’t want to be something just because his father was. That he’s not interested in living up to anyone’s expectations. That he just wants to bury himself, and Records is the best place to do it.
He shrugs back. “Got to start somewhere, haven’t I?”
attended church
When his father was alive, Sam’s family always attended church. He’d caught on long ago that it was all for show. The people needed to see a high-ranking Ministry official at Sunday services, setting a good example.
In the months since the funeral, he has sat next to his mother and watched her powder her nose, and he has listened to the vicar drone on about things that never held any real significance for him.
He no longer sees the point. After all, he’s never going to be a high-ranking Ministry official.
prayed
Three years of silence, of peace, and then the bombs start again. Not one concentrated attack, not this time. They go off on every corner, at any hour. People walking along the streets, minding their own business, then suddenly screaming, bloody, half-deaf, half-blind, glass and debris embedded in their flesh.
It’s on the news every evening. The casualties rise daily. It will be a long time before people become desensitized to the violence.
Sam watches and realizes there’s nothing he can do, and clasps his hands together.
Well, he thinks as he shuts his eyes. Can’t hurt anything.
went on vacation
It is at his mother’s insistence -- and on her dime. Sam only hopes that she won’t get him promoted while he’s away.
When he steps on the cruise ship, he is surprised to notice the sound of birds cawing- seagulls, he supposes. He glances all around, back toward the dock and around the ship and up in the sky, but can’t find them. No one else seems to be paying any mind.
He spends most of a day wondering where the birds are until he finally asks a deckhand, who grunts and points up -- to a speaker.
“Ah,” says Sam.
went out with the boys
There’s a bar that’s always been popular with the boys at Records, and though Sam never likes to get drunk, he’ll occasionally tag along in an attempt to be social. As the years pass, the faces and names at Records change as old boys leave and new ones come in. Sam stays.
He is thirty-four the last time he goes out with them. They call him ‘old man Lowry’ and ‘Kurtzmann’s dog.’ Sam doesn’t mind the nicknames themselves, nor the fact that he’s at least ten years older than any of the others. But the attention makes him uncomfortable.
had real fun at a party
Allison, Jack’s wife, had triplets six months ago. Now that they’ve settled in to the life of having children, the couple is having a get-together to introduce their friends to the little ones.
Sam spends little time around the babies. There are several others who are all too happy to coo over them. Instead, he spends the majority of the party with Jack, who is a tad busy glad-handing with congratulators. But as always, Jack has a way of making Sam feel appreciated even when he’s otherwise occupied or taking the mickey.
It’s good to have a friend.
went on a proper date
Her name is Myrtle Dulwitt. She works at the Ministry directing calls. She has drab brown hair and a stick-like body and wears glasses too big for her horsey face, but she always smiles at Sam in the lobby, and the first time he gets close he notices her eyes are two different colors, blue and brown.
He asks her to dinner and spends the entire time working up the courage to say how beautiful her eyes are, but she never stops talking about how much she loves switchboards.
He starts avoiding her. A year later, switchboards become obsolete.
saw the sun over london
It happens quite out of nowhere. London is ever-dreary: foggy, smoggy, the sky choked with clouds. But one November afternoon Sam is stepping outside for his lunch hour and notices that things look a bit brighter than usual.
So he looks up, and promptly squints. There it is: white-yellow and impossibly bright, against a scrap of sky bluer than Sam remembers.
Someone jostles his shoulder on their way past, and Sam is startled out of his head -- though he does give one last glance upward before moving along.
He likes knowing that it’s there. He doesn’t know why.
felt as though his life was the least bit normal
He’s holding all the necessary paperwork in his hands. The receipts, the check. All set to be delivered to the next of kin of Archibald Buttle, shoe repair operative. His wife, called Veronica. Sam is standing outside the door to her flat.
A song has been playing on a loop in his head ever since he left his personal carrier. The one that was on the radio.
Sam hears a cough and turns to see a man, half-concealed by shadows, a mountain of cigarettes at his feet.
Well. That’s odd.
Sam raises his hand and knocks on the door.
Word Count: 1,039 (10x100 plus headers)
Rating: PG
Summary: Written off the ‘Ten last times’ prompt from justprompts. In semi-chronological order, these are the last times Sam Lowry (dot dot dot).
spoke with his father
They talk about University. About Sam’s graduation next month. About where he might go afterward. ‘The Ministry’ is the obvious answer, but which department? They talk about girls, a bit. Sam’s last attempt at a relationship fell apart not long before the bombing, and mother was disappointed. Jeremiah only gives a winking grin. “No rush, eh?”
When they’ve run out of things to say, Sam picks up his jacket and stands, but he lingers by the hospital bed.
“Father -- if something should go wrong tomorrow-”
But Jeremiah quickly cuts him off. “You’re a good boy, Sam. Don’t worry your head.”
interviewed for a position
“So. Son of a well-respected Overseer for Retrieval Operations, graduated from Minster’s College...” Kurtzmann shrugs, blows a puff of air from beneath his mustache, puts down the paperwork, and looks at Sam with curiosity. “What on Earth are you doing here?”
Sam shifts uncomfortably in the chair. He can’t tell the truth: that he doesn’t want to be something just because his father was. That he’s not interested in living up to anyone’s expectations. That he just wants to bury himself, and Records is the best place to do it.
He shrugs back. “Got to start somewhere, haven’t I?”
attended church
When his father was alive, Sam’s family always attended church. He’d caught on long ago that it was all for show. The people needed to see a high-ranking Ministry official at Sunday services, setting a good example.
In the months since the funeral, he has sat next to his mother and watched her powder her nose, and he has listened to the vicar drone on about things that never held any real significance for him.
He no longer sees the point. After all, he’s never going to be a high-ranking Ministry official.
prayed
Three years of silence, of peace, and then the bombs start again. Not one concentrated attack, not this time. They go off on every corner, at any hour. People walking along the streets, minding their own business, then suddenly screaming, bloody, half-deaf, half-blind, glass and debris embedded in their flesh.
It’s on the news every evening. The casualties rise daily. It will be a long time before people become desensitized to the violence.
Sam watches and realizes there’s nothing he can do, and clasps his hands together.
Well, he thinks as he shuts his eyes. Can’t hurt anything.
went on vacation
It is at his mother’s insistence -- and on her dime. Sam only hopes that she won’t get him promoted while he’s away.
When he steps on the cruise ship, he is surprised to notice the sound of birds cawing- seagulls, he supposes. He glances all around, back toward the dock and around the ship and up in the sky, but can’t find them. No one else seems to be paying any mind.
He spends most of a day wondering where the birds are until he finally asks a deckhand, who grunts and points up -- to a speaker.
“Ah,” says Sam.
went out with the boys
There’s a bar that’s always been popular with the boys at Records, and though Sam never likes to get drunk, he’ll occasionally tag along in an attempt to be social. As the years pass, the faces and names at Records change as old boys leave and new ones come in. Sam stays.
He is thirty-four the last time he goes out with them. They call him ‘old man Lowry’ and ‘Kurtzmann’s dog.’ Sam doesn’t mind the nicknames themselves, nor the fact that he’s at least ten years older than any of the others. But the attention makes him uncomfortable.
had real fun at a party
Allison, Jack’s wife, had triplets six months ago. Now that they’ve settled in to the life of having children, the couple is having a get-together to introduce their friends to the little ones.
Sam spends little time around the babies. There are several others who are all too happy to coo over them. Instead, he spends the majority of the party with Jack, who is a tad busy glad-handing with congratulators. But as always, Jack has a way of making Sam feel appreciated even when he’s otherwise occupied or taking the mickey.
It’s good to have a friend.
went on a proper date
Her name is Myrtle Dulwitt. She works at the Ministry directing calls. She has drab brown hair and a stick-like body and wears glasses too big for her horsey face, but she always smiles at Sam in the lobby, and the first time he gets close he notices her eyes are two different colors, blue and brown.
He asks her to dinner and spends the entire time working up the courage to say how beautiful her eyes are, but she never stops talking about how much she loves switchboards.
He starts avoiding her. A year later, switchboards become obsolete.
saw the sun over london
It happens quite out of nowhere. London is ever-dreary: foggy, smoggy, the sky choked with clouds. But one November afternoon Sam is stepping outside for his lunch hour and notices that things look a bit brighter than usual.
So he looks up, and promptly squints. There it is: white-yellow and impossibly bright, against a scrap of sky bluer than Sam remembers.
Someone jostles his shoulder on their way past, and Sam is startled out of his head -- though he does give one last glance upward before moving along.
He likes knowing that it’s there. He doesn’t know why.
felt as though his life was the least bit normal
He’s holding all the necessary paperwork in his hands. The receipts, the check. All set to be delivered to the next of kin of Archibald Buttle, shoe repair operative. His wife, called Veronica. Sam is standing outside the door to her flat.
A song has been playing on a loop in his head ever since he left his personal carrier. The one that was on the radio.
Sam hears a cough and turns to see a man, half-concealed by shadows, a mountain of cigarettes at his feet.
Well. That’s odd.
Sam raises his hand and knocks on the door.