Cold, even with the ladybird’s thin protection Flick could still feel the cold piercing his skin and pulsing inside of his veins. No matter how many times he would step outside to the wastes of earth, Flick could never prepare himself for the immediate chill that would always wash over. His bomber jacket did little to provide any more warmth to his body than his equipment, but what miniscule amount of heat it did give was still appreciated all the same by Flick. A nice wrapped hug of nylon, even if was only the difference between an ice cube and the cold kiss of sheet metal, temperature wise.
It was a similar experience with all of the workers, adorning various different garments each day in attempts to stave off the cold’s unforgiving assault. A hat here, a bundled coat there, but the result in the end was all the same. A collection of faceless figures, shivering in the snow. One of them even wore a scarf this time, something caught Flick’s attention almost immediately as a terrible decision. All of the workers necks were covered by the neck-lock on their helmets, making something like a scarf essentially useless.
Perhaps this was worn out of fashion, not form? not too dissimilar to Flick and his bomber jacket, although Flick couldn’t fathom why one would wear a scarf as a fashion statement out here.
Did this dumbass seriously forget that there’s no wind? He thought to himself,
Scarfs looked best when they were flitting about in the wind, in Flicks opinion anyway, it was the only way for them to look anything close to cool.
Just as these thoughts crossed his mind the inside of the visor on his helmet exploded with life. Detailing the exact temperature of his body, the amount of oxygen left and more miscellaneous information that he could hardly understand. Most importantly, now that the helmet had fully activated, Flick could finally hear everything outside.
Which was nothing, a complete dead silence. It was almost eery how silent it was, but it wasn’t just a natural silence that might appear in the dead of night. It was a kind of audible silence, where only the footsteps of the workers could be heard crunching into the snow as they got into their positions away from the pillar.
Flick loved this kind of silence, the stillness of the air and eeriness that sent chills down his spine. It wasn’t long before the silence was broken.
“Right you lot!” the voice of 206, distorted by a low-quality microphone, chirped in his ear. “Take one last look at home, might be the last one you ever take.”
206’s hulking mass turned towards Flick, gesturing him to look back at the pillar in a teasing way that he knew would aggravate him.
The pillar itself was nestled inside of a huge crater, carved out of the carbon ice, as was every pillar all over the globe. But it was a sight Flick had seen a thousand times over, and this angle was definitely the worst way to see it fully.
He glanced briefly upwards and slowly pointed somewhere, faking a disturbed energy like something was wrong, goading 206 to look up as well. As soon as he lowered his head all that was waiting for him was Flick’s extended middle finger. 206 grumbled to himself and made his way to the others, who were slowly shuffling themselves into the backs of trucks. Flick enjoyed the small victory for a while before following as well.
Because of the frozen lip that surrounded the pillar it was necessary for trucks to assist workers in the climb, otherwise it would take a whole shift just make it out of the pillars shadow. Once they finally groaned over the hill, the workers glanced out of the windows at the journey ahead, Flick included.
A complete barren blanket of white that stretched out in every direction, shimmering in the starlight. Because of the lack of atmosphere, and a sun to call their own, the earth was permanently blanketed by night, which excited Flick to no end. In fact, this was practically the only reason Flick put up with the job in the first place. Even now, for the thousandth time he’d seen it, the sight of white snow being lit up by a myriad of star shined colours never failed to steal his breath.
Whilst Flick gawked at the otherwise normal view of earth, the geo-bikes pulled up next to his truck, ready to be manned. In no time at all they were quickly occupied by only the fastest of workers, both physically and psychologically.
Flick only noticed at the last second when the final bike was taken by the scarf bearing man, and was immediately revved into life. Its internal mechanisms glowed a deep red as the vacuums on its front and back wheels began heaving in snow to use as fuel. The constant flow of energy caused the whole device to hover above the ground, with a mobius strip of singing ice particulates flowing beneath it, before ripping through the ground at a blistering fast speed. In an instant the man rocketed forward, along with all the other geo bikers, as they sailed towards the horizon.
It was evident then, to Flick, that the scarf was intended for the bike, as the momentum carried the fabric in an undeniably elegant way. He was honestly impressed by this show of expertise and style, but also deeply deeply jealous that he didn’t get the opportunity to ride yet again.
“Ah, don’t worry kid,” the worker in the driver’s seat reassured, “You’ll get it next time… maybe.”
The remaining workers in the truck with him gave a small chuckle before settling into their seats, buckling up just as the truck jolted forward in pursuit of the leading bikers. They were due north today, towards the cities of old that were completely encompassed in ice, leaving only the tips of the tallest buildings peeking out of the surface. A permanent reminder of what once was. The trip itself was nothing special, but it gave ample time for Flick’s mind to wander as he analysed the form of the pillar’s exterior. This was the way to see it in its full scale, a giant spire of metal with a twirling helix coiling around it, splaying out more and more the closer it got to the snow.
The overall form of the pillar itself was as magnanimous as it was peculiar. A bubble shaped dome crowned its strange spiralling length, glowing in the blank sky with a fake daytime. Various other smaller domes stuck out at either side like droplets of water, supported by curved metal branches. As a boy, Flick used to think the pillar looked like a huge lamp, one very over-engineered lamp where he and his friend lived in its bulb centre. However, after seeing it first-hand, it was much closer to a tree, with glass replacing the usual bushels of leaf.
These thoughts of the pillar quickly escaped him once its silhouette vanished over the horizon, and he quietly turned back to the cramped innards of the truck. The others were already idly conversing about this and that, but Flick had only one particular topic in mind.
He hovered around their discussions, waiting for his curiosity be brought up naturally.
“Hey,” he queried, inserting himself into the conversation and ultimately throwing it off completely, “Do we still have to look out for SMILE? The suit back at the gate didn’t say anything about it today, did we take care of them yet?”
The man next to him turned, “Nah, they ain’t caught em yet. Hey guys! you think if we catch one this time we get a pay raise?” this was half said as a joke, although the intrigue was still there amongst all of them
“Mate, were literally in the middle of bloody nowhere,” interjected another passenger “I doubt any of that gang is even fuckin’ thinking of coming out here,”
Flick raised his brow, “I thought our bikes kept being stolen?”
“That they were lad,” a woman continued, from somewhere in the truck’s corner, “But that would mean their gang is from another pillar. We’re not going in the direction of any pillars from what I can tell so- “
“Well,” Flick interrupted, “I’m gonna keep an eye out for them just in case,”
The others turned to him with a hint of annoyance emanating from beneath their faceless masks “You do whatever you want mate, we’re gonna get paid”
Flick left the remaining workers to continue debating over whether or not the SMILE gang was still causing trouble or not, or if they were even still around to begin with. Leaving the conversation just as abruptly as when he started it.
As he glanced over the icy planes that were draped with a thick layer of fog he began to see their destination in sight. The towering concrete structures stuck out like sore thumbs against the deep black skyline above and the pristine white snow below.
He figured to himself that cities like this must’ve been so alive, so deafeningly alive that it was hard to imagine them as anything but human. Now, it became a sort of limbo that rested somewhere between the finality of space and the endless cycle of the snow. The only remnants of humanity’s past ways, a permanent mark sticking out of the earth.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
With the swirling of the fog obscuring his view, Flick couldn’t do much but inform the others and wait for his working hours to begin. Even through the fog he could see that the Geo-bikes had already reached the city and were scanning the area for any unstable structures.
They weren’t actually working at the abandoned site of course; they were working just outside of it. However, it was important to check the structural integrity of the buildings beforehand anyway. If even one them were to collapse into the snow the explosion of powder would result in a smokescreen of pure ice, making it incredibly hard for them to get back to the truck for refuelling. Or for said truck to navigate its way back to pillar 7 at the end of the working day, either way it essentially meant death.
And besides that, no one knew what lay deep beneath the snow, giant shards of metal? Maybe even abandoned vehicles the old world used? One thing was for certain, ice. Thousands upon thousands of shattered ice shards could come rushing towards them at ludicrous speeds, resulting in the almost certain death of everyone here. Despite Flicks jealousy over not being able to ride a geo-bike today, he was still nevertheless grateful that they were doing their jobs.
Once the bikers returned from their exposition, confident in their appraisal of the area, the workers dispatched in wildly different directions in order to fulfil their duty for the day. Flick decided to pick a particularly tall pile of snow to begin with. Mainly because behind this snow lied a great view of the rubble that would entertain Flick’s imagination, for the remainder of the shift at least.
Without much thought he whipped his fusion cutter out from behind him and got ready to start his shift.
The fusion cutter looked not too dissimilar to a motorbike throttle from the 20th century, sporting a giant break-like mechanism that acted as the ignition for the cutter’s plasma to spew out of.
Everything was designed in this machine for optimisation, where if one had enough skill it was possible to operate it with just a single hand. Just a single slit that the handle had to be pushed into, one firm squeeze that would rev it to life. On the underside of the ignition handle was a ring that would slip over your forefinger, preventing it from accidentally falling back. While the flame was active the inside of the device was a mess of fusion heat, even the ignition handle would melt if it stayed inside a second too long.
On the handle’s spine lied another ring intended to fit around a thumb, however this ring was oriented horizontally instead of vertically. Although, this ring served a completely different purpose to the one beneath the ignition. It shielded a small scrolling wheel that controlled the power going into the cutters at any given moment. The whole design was deceptively simple. With just a moment of fiddling with a wheel and pulling the arching handle, anyone could spark a torch of fire suitable for cutting anything.
Flick carefully set the power to around thirty percent with his thumb and then, using his remaining fingers, squeezed the ignition handle forcefully. The Device roared into life, (the only reasonable way of describing the hearty boom it spawned,) creating an unstable beam of deep red plasma that fluttered into flames on its edges.
As much as Flick wanted to, he couldn’t exactly crank it up to the maximum possible power setting. In as little as one minute the fuel would run out, and that would probably result in Flick being fired. The flame would also grow so tall that if Flick wasn’t careful, he could easily scorch some poor, innocent worker. Despite the debilitating state of joblessness and the potentially scarring idea of turning another human being into a screaming pile of melting flesh, the thought of just how cool it would look almost outweighed the negatives to Flick. Nevertheless, he spun the now burning cutter around his index finger before stopping it with the flame pointing down, framing a good pile of carbon snow with his other hand before stabbing into it. The steam explosion was immediate, tons of pressure blew past the side of his helmet, screaming and crackling through his ears. The skin on his cheek would’ve almost definitely been torn off in an instant, boiled first and then peeled away in same second. He struggled to keep his arm steady against the overwhelming force that was now rushing at and past him. Slowly and carefully, he inched his thumb towards the dial to readjust the settings down to something more manageable.
“That was a couple degrees off, Flicky” 206 was couple dozen feet away, guffawing at the sight of Flick’s thin frame trying desperately to maintain a steady form “…maybe in a couple of years you can handle it!”
Flick pulled his thumb away from the dial and grit his teeth. Without hesitating he tensed his entire body and leant forward, refusing to prove 206 right. His laughter remained constant in his ear, but Flick didn’t have the patience to deal with 206’s playground insults in the moment. If he didn’t focus on his cut he might end up losing his grip and flinging a deadly beam of plasma into some random passer-by. He clenched as many muscles as he could and began to move his device.
All that 206 could see from behind the plume of steam that blocked a direct view to Flick, was a faint silhouette of a middle finger that slowly rose behind the veil. Eventually the pressure died down and his victory was clear on display for all to see. Flick had wrestled control against the steam and was now staring directly at his heckler.
The thought of the childish smug face behind Flick’s mask infuriated 206 to no end, steaming up the insides of his screen with his own laboured breath.
206, defeated in his attempt at demoralising Flick, turned back to his co-workers in hope of finding that none of them noticed his display. Like a field of disturbed meerkat all twelve people, that were coincidentally around, swung their heads back to their work, trying desperately to hide the convulsions of their chests as they chocked back laughter. On the other hand, despite how smug he actually was at showing 206 up, Flick was sweating like a pig underneath his cool exterior.
Not only was fighting steam incredibly dangerous, but also incredibly taxing on his stamina. For a brief moment, the thought that he might not make it back to the pillar crossed his mind… Along with the immediate realisation that he could have just pulled his hand away at the first sign of danger, instead of giving in to 206’s taunts. He shuddered at the thought that he could have died just moments before, yet no one else seemed to care. It was a general understanding amongst the workers that something like this will happen again with Flick. It’s not like it was his first time anyway.
Surprisingly enough, the remainder of the day went by without any more issues. Everything was cleanly cut, nothing burnt, no one left behind in giant pockets of empty space where snow used to be. All of the ice was piled on top of one another in the back of the trucks, neatly carved into cubes that were wrapped in cables to keep them stable on the way back home.
Flick however, whilst not physically hurt in any way, was completely drained of all energy. In the farthest back seat of a truck that was already in transit, he was curled up in a ball, peacefully sleeping away his fatigue.
Yet again the dream that haunted him returned, each time it did it would show itself in a new way, from what Flick could remember. This time, instead of the hazy afternoon school dream of the night prior, it was made up of complete fantasy. With fields of never ending green and colours that defied logic, everything within his mind was teeming with brilliant spectacle. That was until the very end, like always. The sun in the sky of the huge verdant fields grew large, devouring and scorching everything in sight eventually consuming Flick like it commonly did in every other iteration of the dream.
Luckily for Flick just as he was being burned by the sun in his mind, an equally tired worker shook him awake to the scratchy, infuriating sounds of pointless word dribble. It took him a couple of minutes to realise that this noise was coming from the woman who woke him. And that the noise was only just now suddenly morphing into an understandable language. He soon understood that he was being scolded, and particularly badly too.
“207!” the woman commanded with unprecedented authority “EXPLAIN TO ME WHY YOU’RE EXACTLY-” she took a small moment to glance at her pocket watch, conveniently attached to her glove by the wrist. “ONE WHOLE HOUR LATE FOR YOUR DELIVERY!”
Flick could barely conceive where he was, let alone how he managed to waste an hour’s worth of time. All of a sudden his whole face turned red with embarrassment at being woken up in such a compromising way. Not only this, but as his mind cleared he remembered what exactly he was supposed to do at this point in his shift. Upon realisation he immediately twisted himself into an upright position and began blubbering out his excuse.
“I- uh, I’m sorry, I must’ve dozed off! I’ll get on- “
“I DIDN’T HEAR YOU MAGGOT-FLY!” her tone was practically deafening at this point “ARE YOU TRYING TO WASTE MY TIME EVEN MORE HERE!?”
Flick responded, trying to match her intensity, “NO MA’AM, I’LL GET RIGHT ON THE DELIVERY MA’AM,”
Before he even finished talking he was already clambering out of the truck, only at the last-minute remembering to put his helmet back on. Once his feet felt the cold crunch of the outside once again he began sprinting for the elevator, mainly because he feared what his superior would do if she saw him anywhere but there. And from his small tenure at this job he definitely knew that whatever it was, it almost certainly results in Flick losing a limb.
Upon reaching the outer elevator that was reserved specifically for vehicles and deliveries, he swung himself onto a small space between his payload and the outer edge of the elevator. Pressing the buttons on the elevator excessively as the elevator suddenly jutted into life and began its ascension to the factory bubble of the pillar. Flick swore he could see the snow around the woman melt and boil as she stepped out of the truck, simply glancing up at Flick as he made his way to his final work destination for the day.
The elevator that was on the outside of the pillar wasn’t exactly a conventional elevator like the one Flick used at the beginning of the day. Instead of going directly up, this elevator went around the pillar following one of the spiralling legs to get to the different bubbles outside of the main, residential, bubble that sat at the centre.
Since Flick was headed to the factory district for his delivery he had to get on the elevator the far right, that would bring him up, diagonally, towards the leftmost bubble where the furnace was located. The only downside to this elevator was the excruciatingly long wait-time that it took to get itself to the end.
Flick honestly didn’t mind the wait, especially after the fiasco that rudely awoke him moments before. Now, at his own leisure, he could look out at the horizon filled with stars and sooth himself, unknowingly causing himself to slip off into yet another premature nap session. As he lowered his eyes and relaxed every inch of his body he scanned the empty wastes, seeing the perfect snow and all the clattering bodies trying to escape it. One of them even had a cape, way off in the distance and far behind everyone else.
He wondered to himself which coworker that was, and finally closed his eyes fully.
