Anthology of Ichor III: Gears of Damnation (45 page)

"You're impatient too. But I'll tell you what I know. Maybe it'll help you with your art. Maybe everything else. Do you know about trees?"

"Just that they grow far far away," said William. "What about them?"

The old man grunted and sat himself up. The wheel behind him began to slow. "You need to pay better attention to the things around you. If you're ever sitting under a maple, or a pine, look up and see the things that are inside it. The color of the leaves. What sorts of insects or birds live in it. If the leaves are falling; how fast they're falling. Where they land. Keep looking. How does it feel to see the little things?"

William wanted an answer. But he couldn't find it. "Feels empty," he said.

"You make the world what you want it to be," said the old man. "Don't look at all the broken stacks and little machines dancing and singing. They might not have souls but they have something we don't. They don't know color, but they know how colors make us feel. They don't know the beauty of it, but they know how to make us smile. All you have to do is look at the little things."

"They know when a man is afraid," said William. "I could tell when I walked by the machine in a cage earlier. I think it was laughing at me. I hate knowing that. I hate that we live in a world where we're ruled by our own creations. Nothing is natural anymore. There are no little things to look at."

"The machine was laughing at you because you're like me. One day you're going to turn old and die. It was laughing at you because no matter how long it stays locked up in that cage it'll live forever. Some of them might understand fear. But they don't know what it feels like. They laugh when little boys cry, or when a young girl screams. They laugh when the lights go out, and old men are having nightmares about waking up the next morning blind. They can't have these things. Machines aren't worth worrying yourself over. They are the little things."

William nodded. His grandfather was fading away. "I understand," he said. "I still think you're crazy but I understand." He touched the old man's hand again.

He squeezed as tight as a dead man's grip could hold on.

"You know I love you," said William.

"I know you do. I wish I had a letter to hand you right now that you can pass on to a young woman in need. But this one's on me. Go get some water. There's something I need you to do downstairs."

~*~

He walked down a long and narrow hallway, the feel of sweat dripping down his forehead and cheeks, the image of an old man stained in sight like a ghostly silhouette. He imagined the old man jumping up out of bed, ripping the coils from his heart and praising the wheel of life for giving him just one more day to dance.

If only the wheel had went in reverse, made the old man young again, just enough to laugh and play with William and not talk of such matters as life and death and the colors of a maple tree somewhere far far away.

He imagined his grandfather laughing and playing. Then the woman came to mind. He wondered if she ever got her letter. If everything was alright thereafter—if she ever really loved the machine.

On the path towards the great gates he looked back and saw that the misty cloud of white had been subdued. Along the way he saw the caged machine. It looked at him with dim, red, solemn eyes. Surely, the thing must have known some fear. He stopped and looked back. "You're not laughing at all, are you?" he said.

The machine burst to life, cackling, howling, moaning, crying. It was the healthiest laugh the young man had ever heard in his life and it came from a machine. William longed to know such happiness. If only he knew nothing of fear, or the coming of age and death. Then he would be truly happy. But then he would be a machine. And in a world like we live in, no one enjoys the company of a lifeless, soulless piece of metal.

Beep.

I am a good listener.

PSY

by

S.M. Sawyer

Psy Chapter 6

Year 35 A.M.

Prelude to Tears:

Lights flickered on and off. They decorated the landscape as far as George could see. The highways were filled with lights from commuters on their way home from work. They created bright traffic jams here and there. Glare from a packed stadium flashed across the sky. Businesses closing for the day would turn off their lights and have the bar or club across from them turn theirs on. Stoplights would light up intersections on the busy streets. Streetlights came alive one by one to outline neighborhoods. From a mile up above the bright glow, George smiled as he enjoyed the scenery. Philadelphia, his home, was just as beautiful to him at night as it was during the day. He looked over at his brother and saw him smiling and looking down at the lights. Sometimes George thought they shared the same brain.

At first look Joshua could only be no more than twenty-five with that youthful face. His bold chin did nothing to take away from his dashing looks. George was proud that his brother was handsome. He knew women liked to look at men like Joshua and to a brother that meant something. His grey trench coat sat open to reveal the expensive black suit he was wearing. George had bought that suit for him and he knew his brother wore it all the time. He looked at his brother's military hair cut and frowned. There was still no grey. Joshua maybe aged a year in the last twenty. Their friend Jenny had proven that psychics aged much slower than non-psychics. Seeing the reality in Joshua was astounding. George grew jealous at that thought. Not jealous of his brother lack of aging, but jealous that someone else would get to see him old. George wanted to see his brother as an old man. It could not be so. At the rate of Joshua's aging he still had at least two hundred or more years left. Joshua was very close to immortal.

George shifted his luggage next to him so he could lay back on it. He lay there thinking how impossible it was that he was flying home on a giant hand. The Flying Hand was what George had named it. He never approved of Joshua always naming each variation of the Helpful Handz. The Flying Hand was different though. George had named it so it was special in a way. It had been George's idea in the first place. Hands that floated and picked up things could also carry people. It had seemed so obvious. George knew that his brother was a little dense at times. Nanna had told George he would have to take care of Joshua and help him through life. She had said, "That’s what big brothers do. They take care of little brothers." George smiled thinking about the foster mother who had adopted him and Joshy.

"What are you smiling about now?" Joshua asked him. He was looking into George's face intently. His silver eyes glowed slightly in the moonlight.

"Nanna," he simply replied. No more was needed. Joshua began smiling just as hard as George upon hearing that name.

Keisha Thompson may have been the name their foster mother was born with, but to everyone who knew her, she was Nanna. She was old and in her eighties now, but always she was a source of warmth and love. To an orphan like George, she was the mother he never had. To Joshua, she had been his savior. George remembered the nights he would creep to her room to peek in and see her humming gospel hymns while rocking Joshua to sleep. Both he and Joshy had come to her as kids. George had been bounced around from home to home until finding her. Joshua had come from an abusive home and luckily Nanna's was the first foster home he came to. Neither had ever left and a few years later she adopted both of them. She had been married when George's papers went through, so George was a Williams. Her husband died shortly after, so the maiden name Thompson was what Joshy had. When Joshua was taken to the psychic facility he and Nanna went as well. After they went into military service she returned home and waited for her sons. Now she lived across the street from George so he and his wife could keep an eye on her.

"When did you see her last?" He asked Joshua critically. Joshua made a thoughtful look.

"About three weeks ago I went by. She kept complaining about me needing a wife so I could get her some grand babies. I made a joke saying she should get married herself and do you know what she said? She might! She's been seeing some old guy at the retirement center. Can you imagine it George? Our Nanna in a wedding gown walking down the aisle." They both laughed hard until tears sprang up in Joshua's eyes. "She would be beautiful though. Wouldn't she?" George nodded his head in agreement. His wife, Kary, already told him about Nanna's little romance. He had thought to put an end to it, but Kary forbid him from interfering. His wife could be a tyrant at times. She already made Joshua submissive to her. It was bad enough she liked to take command, but did Joshua really have to stand behind her co-signing her words like a trained dog.

"Are you staying for supper? I think its steaks tonight." His mouth watered at that thought. He loved steaks. Joshua shook his head.

"No, I got some business at home. Imma pick up a cheese steak then head back to D.C." Joshua's mouth drooled then. Joshua loved Philly Cheese steaks.

"Business huh...Like a pretty little redhead?" He smirked at Joshua's shocked expression. "What? Did you think I didn't know? That girl has been after you since she was six. She asked you to marry her almost every day while growing up. Did you think she wouldn't tell everyone that her conquest was over? I'm pretty sure most of the AWC knows by now. She told me the next day after. Jenny is going to go crazy making wedding plans. Ashley and her mother have been planning your union into their family for almost twenty years." Joshua scowled hard.

"How do you feel about it? Do you think I was wrong? I tried my best to keep her away. When she was little, she used to blackmail me into spending time with her. I didn't know what to do anymore George. A couple months ago I walked into my apartment and there she was." Joshua blushed for a moment. “Lingerie Georgy! She had on Lingerie! I tried to hustle her out of the apartment, but she wouldn't budge. She started talking about how she was ready to end her adventure and wanted her knight. Whatever that meant. Before I knew it she was kissing me..." He looked hard into George's face as if trying to will George into believing him. "I tried fending her off. I did...But that girl moves quickly.. And.. And.." Joshua's head sagged down and he looked sheepishly through his eyelashes. "She... She smelt so good...And after a while I couldn't fight anymore."