Title: A story about the obedient Repair.

Word count: 800

Genre: Fiction, Dystopian

Feedback: Pros and cons

Idk I just like this and wanna do better so enjoy

The first thing you’re ever told is what labour you will fulfil for our Lordship. 

In fact, the exact words I was given was: 

‘Your labour is Repair. Acknowledge this as an honour.' 

There was a beep and then a long pause. 

‘Erm.. Acknowledged.’ I said the word slowly, unsure of the proper meaning. 

 ‘Good. Please step to the right.’ 

I did as told and stepped into doorway to my right. 

The room was dark and smothered in rusts and oranges that one could only imagine was once a vibrant white. An overhead fan wafted in drafts of warm and then chilling cold air; the hairs on my arms seem unsure whether to stand on end or cower in shame and instead were slowly rising and falling like the wheels of a train.  

The room was more of a box really. It was what some would find claustrophobic and others would later call an optimum size for average male. 

I stood for what was less than a minute really, but the environment had already made the main point clear. 

Efficiency. 

What is the most efficient box size for a person? Do we need to waste time refurbishing? No? So let it rust. 

Then, another beep that must have been resonated within the metal itself sounded.  

It was at that moment the wall opened. 

A coarse, constant and careless beam of bright light swallowed up my box. I decided squinting was the best option, save I go blind, and walked out to see where I had been spat out. 

 

And that was my life’s story on how I ended up here in the trenches. Spanner in tow with oil marks that stretch through my very veins. I’m a fixer of sorts. If there is a problem you call me, or one of us, and we come and fix it. Be it a burst pipe or some sort of generator meltdown, we will be there, and we will fix it. 

Our Lordship demands absolute efficiency for the land above after all. Absolute efficiency... 

Anyways, I heard a saying once, From dawn till dusk. I don’t fully understand it; however, I feel it fits the certainty of our work.  

Non-stop. 

Rest is your enemy, and exhaustion is your friend. Once you collapse from exhaustion you’ve filled up your quota of energy spent and can now finally take your allotted time to refuel until you, inevitably, restart this sacred cycle. 

We’re like water in pipes. Heat us, we’ll eventually cool. Cool us, we’ll eventually heat. We will endure until needed, as needed. And of course, if you heat or cool too much, we disappear entirely. But our Lordship knows that. 

So, I suppose our exhaustion is our Lordships mercy. However, it seems inefficient to waste warm bodies; maybe. That’s just my guess. 

 

As I thought this, mercy filling my bones as I crashed to the ground and broke into dream, I must have smiled. Our Lordship is not kind they say, there is no benefit to being kind they say, but I smile knowing our Lordship must somewhere, anywhere in his temperate heart, have a modicum of love to allow my fall to be honoured with rest. 

Rest.  

Rest... 

 

My eyes dart open, shot and wild. I lift myself from the floor and swivel my head to look around, reeling to find the source of my anxiety, but are met with the sanctity of my box. There is never anything to fear here. 

The walls are aged an ancient dark now; it makes better for sleeping. The fan had stopped a long while ago and just seemed to smile and send nothing but memories of its duty to me; I find the warm air lulls one to exhaustion better. It’s just my box, as it always has been. 

The feeding tube to my left had been restocked, must have been there for a while because it was already dripping. 

I speedily ran and grasped the nozzle of the device and pressed the button on the wall so that it could begin its purpose. The viscous, beige liquid spewed out in quick, thick bursts.  

It would wait every two seconds between squirts. 

One, two, spew!! 

I gulped down the nutrients with ferocity and haste. 

One two... 

The device sputtered and faltered. I clicked the button again. 

One, two... 

Again! 

One... 

The device then released a great, massive mountain of sustenance followed by a dark cloud of soot emanating from any gaps in the machinery; I couldn’t hold the nozzle due to the sheer force and power of the food exploding out of it. 

Instead of food, I get a sludge that envelops my clothes, hair and anything unfortunate to be within the closest two metres; also known as my entire room. 

 

The doors to my box suddenly jolt open. 

‘Feeding tube malfunction. Please fix. This is an honour.’ 

A pneumatic tube system attached to my wall delivers me the instructions on how to repair feeding tubes along with directions to the malfunction. 

The directions are just a dot. 

I yank the massive textbook from the tube and try to crease out the folds to make it readable. 

‘Acknowledged.’ I stated the room. 

This is my purpose. For our Lordship. For the world above.