MicroHorror

Put in a bar, step on the pedal, pull out the bar with a metal hook.

Put in a bar, step on the pedal, pull out the bar with a metal hook.

Put in a bar, step on the pedal, pull out the bar with a metal hook.

Put in a bar….

That’s my job. Every day. Day after day. Nothing else. It numbs my mind and drives me insane. Nothing ever happens here. We’re no better than the machines we operate. They hire us because we’re cheaper than steel and more expendable.

Sometimes things go wrong. It went wrong today. It feels so good to see something different in this hellhole. Everything was all gray, everywhere, but now it’s red and I get to see what was inside my hand. I picked it up and I was moving the fingers around and watching the tendons that hung out. I never realized that fingers are really a kind of pulley system.

When I first started here I found bits of stuff in the machine, pieces left over from the last guy who had my job. Now I’m the one who’s leaving a part of myself behind, for the next generation to see. These remnants of flesh, embedded in the gears of the punch press, are my legacy: the final artistic statement of my career.

I am finished now. I will never work again. The remainder of my life will be wasted scraping by on a meager handout from worker’s compensation. Everything that have I dreamed of I must now let go.

In my life I have feared monsters and demons, witchcraft, malice, murder and war. I have lived in the shadow of terrorism and, before that, the threat of a nuclear holocaust. I have cowered in a forest stalked by wild predators. I have dreaded meeting the gangs that patrol my neighborhood.

Never did I realize that the most sinister threat was not one of malice or predation but of indifference. The greatest danger was that cold, predictable machine at work. It has torn me to pieces. I will survive. But only in the sense that I will still be breathing.

If I slip and fall, if I faint, if this accident becomes a little more severe, it will be better for my son.

I will leave behind a greater legacy than my predecessor. I will leave behind my mind, crushed into the crevices of the drive gear. The safety shield broke and they have not repaired it yet. It is so inviting.

Goodbye.