Week 13, Title: The Dark Sacred Night
There’s someone starting today. They gather around and give the new worker soft but sombre smiles. This is not a celebration: this is a place of the desperate and the damned. The monstrosity continues to whirr loudly, spanning the entire wall: its blades wider than the breadth of any man’s shoulders.
They run about the place, quick but careful, long used to the water beneath their bare feet. Too used to the miss-steps, the injuries, the deaths. No one works here if they have another choice.
“Don’t let any of this stuff touch the water,” he says, gesturing at the wires hanging about the place, desperately taut to prevent them from falling.
The newbie, Lem, stares bewildered. “Why is there water everywhere?”
He shrugs. “The machine; blows it in. Can’t be helped. This place ain’t called Hell just ‘cos it’s deep underground.”
Lem furrows his brow. “I suppose that makes sense. Why are there wires everywhere then?”
“Got to power the thing.”
“And why do we need to do that?”
He cracks a wry smile, which breaks into a loud, dark guffaw, “To save the world of course.”
*
An announcement comes over the speakers, congratulating them on their achievements: on the work they’re doing- on their progress in saving the world. As always the announcer speaks of lush fields and a thriving earth.
None of them believe the propaganda, not even Lem.
“Wouldn’t it be something if it was true though?” Lem asks, moving slower than the rest of them, his muscle memory isn’t wired to the place yet.
“Tch. Even if it was, that world wouldn’t be for the likes of us: they’d never let us step foot in it.”
Lem says, “But wouldn’t it be something if they did?”
*
Lem’s heart sinks. He’s stepped wrong. He knows the moment before his foot lands. Pain slices him through.
He wakes in a strange room, it’s fancy, far fancier than he could ever afford. There’s even a window.
(Though why anyone would want a window he doesn’t know).
He reaches for the curtain, to peer at the charred blackness of the world.
Instead he sees hills of vibrant green, trees with orange-red leaves, and a pale blue sky.
They run about the place, quick but careful, long used to the water beneath their bare feet. Too used to the miss-steps, the injuries, the deaths. No one works here if they have another choice.
“Don’t let any of this stuff touch the water,” he says, gesturing at the wires hanging about the place, desperately taut to prevent them from falling.
The newbie, Lem, stares bewildered. “Why is there water everywhere?”
He shrugs. “The machine; blows it in. Can’t be helped. This place ain’t called Hell just ‘cos it’s deep underground.”
Lem furrows his brow. “I suppose that makes sense. Why are there wires everywhere then?”
“Got to power the thing.”
“And why do we need to do that?”
He cracks a wry smile, which breaks into a loud, dark guffaw, “To save the world of course.”
*
An announcement comes over the speakers, congratulating them on their achievements: on the work they’re doing- on their progress in saving the world. As always the announcer speaks of lush fields and a thriving earth.
None of them believe the propaganda, not even Lem.
“Wouldn’t it be something if it was true though?” Lem asks, moving slower than the rest of them, his muscle memory isn’t wired to the place yet.
“Tch. Even if it was, that world wouldn’t be for the likes of us: they’d never let us step foot in it.”
Lem says, “But wouldn’t it be something if they did?”
*
Lem’s heart sinks. He’s stepped wrong. He knows the moment before his foot lands. Pain slices him through.
He wakes in a strange room, it’s fancy, far fancier than he could ever afford. There’s even a window.
(Though why anyone would want a window he doesn’t know).
He reaches for the curtain, to peer at the charred blackness of the world.
Instead he sees hills of vibrant green, trees with orange-red leaves, and a pale blue sky.