Short, short story
I wrote this one at an art jam a few months back. I want to continue this sometime, but I really don't want to continue with the first person perspective. It's about two genetically constructed...wolves? bears? who have been put to work on some manual labour. And I thought, surely we must be gods to our creations...but what would they think of _our_ deities?
- Uni
Workers
“Remember what we were talking about yesterday, before worksover?” asks Fiftynine. He yells this over the clang and clank of the loading machines, and I feel the prick of supervising eyes on the back of my neck, though no one else can possibly hear us.
I act as if I hadn’t heard, hefting a sealed container into our loader. Verboten, it says on the side. I rotate it until the label faces the other way, and it fits perfectly into the machine. Swish, goes the machine, and the container slides in. Clank, as the loader’s metal arms grip it tightly. We have a minute or so until the next one arrives, and I look back up at Fiftynine.
“I’ve thought about it”, I say. “It’s an interesting theory, at least. Gods.”
“Think about this”, says Fiftynine. He sets his welding rig aside for a moment so he can gesticulate. “Surely, as great as they are, they must have everything we have. Surely we aren’t so bold as to claim we are privy to a god, while they are not.”
I wipe the thought from my mind, hurriedly, before I begin to ask questions. “Of course I would never assume that. But - on the other hand, it is…a strange thought to think of them as…well, as being subservient, as are we.”
Fiftynine growls. “Subservient? Bite your tongue -“
Just then another container drops from the chute, and we spring into action. Fiftynine snatches up his rig, and flicks his head, darkened eye membranes dropping into place. I turn my head as he seals the container, and the second he finishes I am there. Turn - Clank - Swish. We resume our philosophy.
“But that’s just what you were suggesting”, I say, once the canister has left our station. “Perhaps subservient is too strong a word though.” I rack my brains for words. Too few of them I had been born with, and not many more have I learned since then.
Fiftynine was born with the same vocabulary I was, but somehow he comes up with the word first. “Respectful”.
I nod.
- Uni
Workers
“Remember what we were talking about yesterday, before worksover?” asks Fiftynine. He yells this over the clang and clank of the loading machines, and I feel the prick of supervising eyes on the back of my neck, though no one else can possibly hear us.
I act as if I hadn’t heard, hefting a sealed container into our loader. Verboten, it says on the side. I rotate it until the label faces the other way, and it fits perfectly into the machine. Swish, goes the machine, and the container slides in. Clank, as the loader’s metal arms grip it tightly. We have a minute or so until the next one arrives, and I look back up at Fiftynine.
“I’ve thought about it”, I say. “It’s an interesting theory, at least. Gods.”
“Think about this”, says Fiftynine. He sets his welding rig aside for a moment so he can gesticulate. “Surely, as great as they are, they must have everything we have. Surely we aren’t so bold as to claim we are privy to a god, while they are not.”
I wipe the thought from my mind, hurriedly, before I begin to ask questions. “Of course I would never assume that. But - on the other hand, it is…a strange thought to think of them as…well, as being subservient, as are we.”
Fiftynine growls. “Subservient? Bite your tongue -“
Just then another container drops from the chute, and we spring into action. Fiftynine snatches up his rig, and flicks his head, darkened eye membranes dropping into place. I turn my head as he seals the container, and the second he finishes I am there. Turn - Clank - Swish. We resume our philosophy.
“But that’s just what you were suggesting”, I say, once the canister has left our station. “Perhaps subservient is too strong a word though.” I rack my brains for words. Too few of them I had been born with, and not many more have I learned since then.
Fiftynine was born with the same vocabulary I was, but somehow he comes up with the word first. “Respectful”.
I nod.