Sand was a skinny, young boy of the age of thirteen. His body shook like a struck copper rod every time he hammered the wall of the mine to which he was tasked with breaking down. He did not know why he was asked to do so, but he enjoyed it, so he did it anyways.
Sand was not the only one who worked here. He was just one in a labor force of nearly one hundred. All of the workers had been stolen away as a child by the leader of the factory, Stone. They were raised to understand that there was nothing more to life than to work. They got bored doing anything else, and thus, always worked.578Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdO2cYbQwKf
Sand, being only a child, was just a bit more energetic than the others. He was always happy with what he did, but sometimes it bothered him just how little effect the work would have on him if he was. So one day, he decided to try being angry.578Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxibLFP87vZ
Taking one final swing, he let the hammer drift out of his hand after the rebound from the impact. He watched it curiously as it fell down upon his left foot. He flinched, surprised with the feeling, then gave a wicked grin. He loved the way his blood warmed and swelled under his skin. He exclaimed, still with a smile, “I hate this job!” The slight act of rebellion made working so much more exhilarating.578Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4RwdSc2iEC
He turned his head to the workers beside him -- who were still working steadily -- not expecting, but still hoping for, a response. He was gravely disappointed when he did not receive one. He exclaimed again, “I hate this job,” this time louder and with emphasis on the word “hate”.
“We heard,” the worker to his left said, uninterested.
“Hmph,” said Sand. They were boring. He stared for a moment at his foot as it began to swell, then decided he would leave and try to find someone else more interesting to talk to with his new disposition. As he left, he saw two guards talking and pointing to him, evidently debating what to do about the worker abandoning his post -- it rarely happened. He ignored them.
Sand walked along the wooden pathway, stomping as he did, and laughing as the workers on the walkway below shook the dust off of their faces almost routinely. The wooden walkway spiraled upward along the sides of the mine, extending infinitely upwards to an amber sky with two moons. It took him only five minutes to reach the highest active portion of the mine. The man who was last, he called Spire.
“Hiya Spire,” Sand said casually. Spire was an older man with a long beard and strong arms from working all of his life. Sand knew that, of all the workers, Spire was the most frustrated with the work he performed. He would be much more fun to talk to.
Spire let his hammer sink down to his thighs and sighed. “Hey, Sand.” He did not have to look to know who it was.
Sand asked energetically, “Watcha doing?”
Spire lifted his hammer and hit the wall for a few seconds before responding. He said lightly and without much effort, “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re hitting a wall,” responded Sand.
“That is exactly what I am doing,” said Spire deliberately.
There was a moment of silence as Sand waited for Spire to say something. He did not.
Sand inquired, “Why?”
“What else is there to do?”
“Good point,” noted Sand. After a moment of thought, he reconsidered. “It doesn’t have to be,” said Sand with a burst of inspiration.
“Oh, how so?”
“Well ... I don’t know.” Sand’s hope fled in an instant.
“Why don’t you get back to work. It’s easier than thinking as much as you do.”
“Fine,” said Sand reluctantly. He began to walk down to his post, with his head down. He saw the two guards who were pointing to him earlier. They were still arguing. One of them pointed up to the watchtower in the middle of the mine. The other one nodded, and they began to move towards it.
Sand was suddenly inspired once again. He thought, Surely Stone, who must be pleased with his power, would be content to do nothing up in his tower, else he would be down here, working with us. Or perhaps there’s something more, something else which passes time.
Sand looked again towards the guards, who were now staring at him, evidently overjoyed that he was returning to his post. Sand could not quite understand why they could possibly be content with doing less than they already did. But he did not bother to think much about it. Instead, he thought about Stone.
He remembered that he was trying to be angry, and it was not hard for him to continue being so. “Stone,” he said with a frown. The name left a foul taste in his mouth. “That bastard,” he continued. He looked again up to the watchtower. It was a structure made of glass, and Sand could see Stone inside, by his desk. He hated him for no particular reason. He decided he did not need to exist. He decided he would kill him.
I’ve never killed anyone before, Sand thought. “I’ve never killed anyone before,” he said aloud. His thoughts reflected the curious sensation he had to demonstrate his power. He had never felt it before. He turned to a worker beside him. To Sand’s surprise, his hammer was on the floor, and he was flipping an unfamiliar coin in his hand. Sand looked around the mine. The worker in front of him was the only one, besides himself, who seemed to not be working.
“Coin,” Sand said to him.
“Huh,” said the worker, confused, “Coin, what’s coin?”
“Who.”
“Ok. Who’s Coin?”
“You’re Coin,” responded Sand.
“Oh,” said Coin. His voice was high and underdeveloped. He appeared young, younger than Sand. “I’ll have to remember that,” he recited, scratching his forehead meticulously.
Sand asked him, “What do you think of Stone?”
“What?”
“Who.”
“Well, who?”
“Stone.”
“You said that, who?”
Sand pointed to the glass watchtower. “The one who is up there, who watches but never works, the leader.”
Coin’s eyes followed Sand’s arm up to the watchtower, then squinted. “I don’t know,” he said, “I haven’t thought much about him.”
“Oh,” said Sand, “so would you care if I killed him?”
“I guess not, I mean, he does nothing. As long as I get to keep working, you can do whatever you want.”
“I see,” said Sand. Sand saw the guards pointing again as he continued to walk, evidently debating, again, what to do about the worker abandoning his post.
On the way to the watchtower, Sand encountered the two guards he had seen earlier. They greeted him in unison, then asked, “what do you think we should do about the worker abandoning his post?”
“I don’t know,” said Sand, “what were you planning on doing?”
“We were planning to go ask Stone in his watchtower.”
“Oh, really? I was just heading there myself,” said Sand, “If you like, you can just head back and I can ask Stone what to do before I kill him, then let you know.”
The two guards spoke to each other for a minute, then turned back to Sand and said, “Okay,” then began walking back to where they usually stood.
It was a short walk to the center of the mine. After reaching the lower portion of the spiral walkway, Sand walked along a different, central walkway that led to a cylindrical, glass contraption. He was greeted by two more guards, one tall and one short.
The shorter one, to Sand’s left, said, “Hi.”
Sand also said, “Hi.”
His response was met with silence.
Sand asked, “May I pass?”
“Pass where?” the taller one questioned.
“To Stone. To the elevator, up to see Stone.”
“To see Stone, to the Watchtower,” the taller guard replied.
“Yes,” said Sand, frustrated. “That’s what I said.”
The guard was confused, ”No,” he declared, “No that’s not what you said.”
Sand had fun testing out this new feeling of rage. He glared his teeth, though almost with a smile, as he responded, “Yes, yes it is.”
“Is what?”578Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLn98A9UDRl
“What I said,” retorted Sand. He was growing impatient with the idiocy of his fellow workers.578Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ7r6fZ1TVF
“What you said? What did you say?”
“I don’t remember. You’re the one who asked of me.”578Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡz4o16bxEBC
“No I didn’t.”578Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeMYec0pLAh
Sand’s eyes grew wide as he tried to comprehend the situation. “You’re confusing me. Never mind.” He turned to the shorter guard who was watching the two with his head turned inquisitively. “Can I go up the elevator?”578Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡytC4Xswd61
“Why?” he asked.
“To kill Stone,” he exclaimed confidently.
Both guards did not make any attempt to respond.
“Well?” Sand inquired hesitantly.
“Well what?” asked the taller guard.578Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡby3cziJpdd
The shorter guard ignored his companion and responded, “I don’t know why you’re asking us. Why would we stop you?”578Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyBSOryTPTE
“Because you’re guards,” noted Sand.578Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhTWgzralXu
“Yes, but what does that mean?”578Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRhrOl3lrQw
Sand had never thought about that before. “I guess,” he thought aloud, “I guess that means you’re some kind of model. I mean, all you do is stand there. Just like Stone. Seems boring.”578Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2EFaz1jjqd
“That makes sense,” said the shorter guard.
Since they made no effort to stop him, Sand pressed open the heavy doors and set himself in the elevator. He could see the mine from all four corners, and upward the watchtower, his destination. To his right was a large rotary lever connected by gears to the supporting walls of the elevator. After working laboriously for so many years, it was not hard for him to rotate the lever and pull himself upwards to the watchtower he was curiously intent on visiting.
The elevator opened to a room much more glorious than the rest of the mine. On the floor was a mahogany rug, supporting two desks to the left, and a dresser and restroom on the right. Sand’s eyes scanned the room then rested on Stone, who was sitting in the furthest desk and staring back.
Stone was a tall and skinny man with a clean-shaven face and nice clothes. He stood and exclaimed, “How the hell did you get up here?”
“Well, I went up the elevator, how else?”
“What about the guards?”
“They were nice fellows.”
Sand charged.
Stone was left gaping in awe, until Sand stopped his momentum, realizing he had no weapon to employ against him.
“Hey, Stone,” he inquired, “Do you have a spare weapon, a knife perhaps?”
His words were met with silence. “Stone, I need…”
Stone interrupted furiously, “Why the hell would I give you a weapon?”
“How else would I go about killing you?”
“Killing me?”
Sand looked to the desk closest to him and saw a gun. He had never used one before, but he had seen them used, and knew their mark was fatal. He grabbed the gun and proceeded to charge again. Stone was fiddling with a desk drawer and screaming for help as Sand pressed the gun against his skin. Stone fell silent, as did Sand, but no gunshot was heard.
“Huh,” said Sand. He lifted the gun away from Stone and examined it. “This weapon is crap, it didn’t even break the skin.”
Stone turned to face Sand as he talked, his eyes bloodshot and legs shaking. As he collected himself, he began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Asked Sand.
Stone took the gun from Sand, who was more than willing to let it go, and shot him in the arm. Sand fell to the floor, bleeding.
Sand looked at his arm, then back at the gun. “Ah,” he realized, “That's why you were laughing.”
Stone directed the gun at Sand once again. He said, “What is one worker worth anyways?”
Stone appeared more than ready to fire, and Sand appeared more than ready to take the blow, but they were interrupted by a peculiar beeping.
Stone reluctantly lowered the gun and sighed. He walked over to the far desk and lifted a copper, cone-shaped contraption up to his ear. Sand heard him say “Yes,” to no one in particular.
Suddenly, he burst out in anger towards the metal object he held. “What! You sure?! Hell no! Don't let him eat it! It's mine! Finally, mine alone!”
After a bit more speech followed similarly, Stone lowered the uncanny object and turned back to Sand. He said simply, “No time,” and left his dwelling, leaving Sand alone in a pool of blood.
Sand had grown to like the feel of pain, but this time was different. As the blood left his body, he began to feel more and more distant, and a part of him he did not understand wanted to clog the opening and save his sanity, while part of him wanted himself to just waste away.
His new-found fear of death prevailed in the quarrel he started against himself. He removed his shirt and wrapped the fabric around the source of the bleeding, then managed to lift himself up from the floor and crawl to the corner of the room, where he watched Stone through the glass wall.
After departing the elevator, Stone argued with the guards at the entrance, then walked with haste to the lower portion of the mine, where he spoke with a guard – who held the same copper contraption Stone possessed -- and the man called Coin. Coin had, in his hand, a glowing, crimson gem which gave Sand the sudden, unexplainable desire to consume it.
Stone tore the gem from Coin's hesitant hands and ate it. Stone's eyes widened, and he gave a smile the likes of which Sand had never seen before. It did not last long before Stone collapsed, but even in death the smile did not fade. It was really a beautiful sight to behold.
Coin, unaffected, turned back to the wall in front of him, which, Sand now realized, contained more of the crimson gems. Coin ate one and died with a smile. The guard ate one and died with a smile. The worker to the left ate one and did the same. Then the worker on the right, then left, right again, and so on. Soon, the workers formed a single-file line, waiting patiently for their turn.
Sand, however, was not patient. He wanted to die like the others, with a smile, but he was already dying from something else. He crawled over to the elevator, and tried desperately to reach the lever to lower himself from the tower.
He realized that his arm was the cause of his trouble, and that he could do without it, so he tore it off. He soon was met with the horrific conception that this made his death even closer.
Sand found himself no longer able to support himself, and he fell to the floor of the elevator. He turned his head to watch the other workers walk to their death. They continued to fall one by one, filling in the floor of the mine to create a warm sea of smiles. He envied them.
In desperation, Sand faked a smile, and let the blood loss release his soul from the world which bound his freedom.578Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCF3QWh9xZQ
