The Little Cog That Couldn't
A story from Beddy Bye: A Series of Untold and Unfinished Tales
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Once upon a time there was a metal shop that specialized in taking sheets of metal and shaping them into cogs, bolts, springs, screws, and the like to make fancy dodads and thingies. The sheets of metal were sorted in piles and stored in large containers until they could enjoy the pride and grace of being used. The metal sheets were self-segragating and remained to their own kind. The gold sheets fussed and prissed over themselves in the reflections the sides of their containers gave off, while the iron strutted around enveloped in sheer idiocy, clumsily shoving aside all who got in their way.
The brass clicked their tips and sang their music loudly while the tin talked of Dungeons and Bronzes in the corner and calculated each other's body mass. The copper smoked and beat up the tin while the silver ignored their other silver counterparts (and everyone else too) in order to lust off the shine of gold and the strength of iron. In this way, the metal sheets thrived in one super container, together, but apart in so many ways.
Then one day a newcomer "dropped in." Now, it was a customary practice for the newcomer to immediately be sorted into their respective section and hence forgotten about by all the other metal tpes seemingly forever. The problem with the newcomer, however, was that he seemed to fit nowhere. He glimmered like gold, so, much to their displeasure I assure you, he was placed with the gold. Immediately it became apparent he had no such intentions of looking at himself in the reflections the sides of the contaier provided. He was as strong as iron, but was proved to be more intelligent when asked the sum of two and two. He was pushed in with the tin after that, however he expressed no interest in Sungeons and Bronzes. "This is a problem," remarked a silver to a nearby gold. The newcomer had no interest in lusting after gold, and was not a silver. "However, he sang to himself once or twice," a gold remarked to an iron. The newcomer was pushed in with the brass, buthis bright and shimmery color did not fit in with the dull yellowing luster of the brass. So he was moved in with copper, his last resort. He gagged on the smoke and did not beat up the tin. Ostracized by all, he curled into a corner and silently fell asleep, hopping to rust. The next day, a rusty old bolt came in. "Listen up you freshly made sheets of metal," the bolt hollard, "an order has come in and you all will experience the pride and grace of becoming parts of the greatest maching to ever be built." The sheets of metal looked at him in awe. "You are no longer unique, no longer special. You will all become a part of a whole, a whatzit or a doohicky in a doodad or thingie," the rusty bolt roared on. "Gold, you are to become the fancy hands of our doodad. Iron, you will support and be the framework of our machine. Brass, you will beome chimes to sing out as needed, copper you willkeep the tin in line as it solves the equations needed and informs everyone else when to do their jobs. Silver, you are not as nice looking as the gld, so you'll be used as a backdrop, or face, their fancy hands will run over." Nobody noticed the quiet left out sheet in the corner.
After the great machine man made all that was to be happen, the doodad did not work. something was missing. The old rusty olt went back to the container to see what he had overlooked, and there, in the corner sat our newcomer. "What's your name boy?" the old bolt roared. The newcomer looked up, "A-alloy sir" he rattled. "Alloy, you will be our cog." And so alloy turned in to a spendorous co and was nt just another part that made a part of the machine. without him, nothing functioned. The rest of the metal sighed with envy, sometimes it wasn't right that the ostracized always won in the end. That's my tale, I'm glad I've told it. So what are you? Gold, iron, tin, copper, brass or silver? Or....are you an alloy that couldn't fit in?
By the way, three years later he snapped under the pressure of it all and everything was failed around him.
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Once upon a time there was a metal shop that specialized in taking sheets of metal and shaping them into cogs, bolts, springs, screws, and the like to make fancy dodads and thingies. The sheets of metal were sorted in piles and stored in large containers until they could enjoy the pride and grace of being used. The metal sheets were self-segragating and remained to their own kind. The gold sheets fussed and prissed over themselves in the reflections the sides of their containers gave off, while the iron strutted around enveloped in sheer idiocy, clumsily shoving aside all who got in their way.
The brass clicked their tips and sang their music loudly while the tin talked of Dungeons and Bronzes in the corner and calculated each other's body mass. The copper smoked and beat up the tin while the silver ignored their other silver counterparts (and everyone else too) in order to lust off the shine of gold and the strength of iron. In this way, the metal sheets thrived in one super container, together, but apart in so many ways.
Then one day a newcomer "dropped in." Now, it was a customary practice for the newcomer to immediately be sorted into their respective section and hence forgotten about by all the other metal tpes seemingly forever. The problem with the newcomer, however, was that he seemed to fit nowhere. He glimmered like gold, so, much to their displeasure I assure you, he was placed with the gold. Immediately it became apparent he had no such intentions of looking at himself in the reflections the sides of the contaier provided. He was as strong as iron, but was proved to be more intelligent when asked the sum of two and two. He was pushed in with the tin after that, however he expressed no interest in Sungeons and Bronzes. "This is a problem," remarked a silver to a nearby gold. The newcomer had no interest in lusting after gold, and was not a silver. "However, he sang to himself once or twice," a gold remarked to an iron. The newcomer was pushed in with the brass, buthis bright and shimmery color did not fit in with the dull yellowing luster of the brass. So he was moved in with copper, his last resort. He gagged on the smoke and did not beat up the tin. Ostracized by all, he curled into a corner and silently fell asleep, hopping to rust. The next day, a rusty old bolt came in. "Listen up you freshly made sheets of metal," the bolt hollard, "an order has come in and you all will experience the pride and grace of becoming parts of the greatest maching to ever be built." The sheets of metal looked at him in awe. "You are no longer unique, no longer special. You will all become a part of a whole, a whatzit or a doohicky in a doodad or thingie," the rusty bolt roared on. "Gold, you are to become the fancy hands of our doodad. Iron, you will support and be the framework of our machine. Brass, you will beome chimes to sing out as needed, copper you willkeep the tin in line as it solves the equations needed and informs everyone else when to do their jobs. Silver, you are not as nice looking as the gld, so you'll be used as a backdrop, or face, their fancy hands will run over." Nobody noticed the quiet left out sheet in the corner.
After the great machine man made all that was to be happen, the doodad did not work. something was missing. The old rusty olt went back to the container to see what he had overlooked, and there, in the corner sat our newcomer. "What's your name boy?" the old bolt roared. The newcomer looked up, "A-alloy sir" he rattled. "Alloy, you will be our cog." And so alloy turned in to a spendorous co and was nt just another part that made a part of the machine. without him, nothing functioned. The rest of the metal sighed with envy, sometimes it wasn't right that the ostracized always won in the end. That's my tale, I'm glad I've told it. So what are you? Gold, iron, tin, copper, brass or silver? Or....are you an alloy that couldn't fit in?
By the way, three years later he snapped under the pressure of it all and everything was failed around him.