Mechanism | A flash fiction story
61 of 💯
Agh listened. A lonely drop of water dripped from a rusty pipe and traveled down the height of the dark corridor to find a black puddle. The ventilation system hummed above, carrying spores from the multiple fungi species covering the humid tiles to the world outside. The artillery bot’s actuators droned faintly around the corner while it rolled down the corridor.
Agh fiddled with the laser dagger, absent-mindedly observing the gentle wave of the blade’s edge. He switched the laser on and pointed the butt of the dagger to the palm of his hand, a vivid cyan dot shining on the fingerless glove.
That color used to be beautiful, but some days everything was shades of gray. In those days, wearing the purple jacket was stupid, the faux leather he had once fallen in love with now singing an ode to empty appearances.
The laser quickly cut through the glove and reached his hand.
If he kept going, would he find anything inside? Would he find pain? Sadness? Anger? Or would he find cogs of just another part in the intricate machine that was this city? A machine without purpose, without reason to be, pushed forward in time in a meaningless chain of cause and consequence.
He turned off the laser and watched the tiny dot of skin and fat boil. He closed his hand, firmly holding the pain in his palm, not letting it escape him. Maybe the universe was a mindless machine and he was just another moving part in the mechanism, but he was damn good at it.
He snuck a small mirror beyond the corner and aimed the laser at a few vital cables on the bot’s back, cutting power to its actuators processing core, making it freeze.
“Stop,” the bot ordered, unable to move, unable to shoot. “You’re trespassing!”
Agh walked past the bot and patted it.
“Chill, buddy. You did your part.”
< Fresh Milk | Mechanism | Truth >
