DavidRM
New Member
Summer Breeze
Jike leaned down to grab the next damned in the queue, but paused, looking over the shaven heads of the damned at the queue itself. The queue stretched like an immense snake of impending torment and misery into infinity. Jike sighed and shook his head. He had been at work--it seemed like forever--and he would be here--that seemed like forever too.
"Hey. Hey, you."
The damned's voice, impatient and demanding, interrupted Jike's thoughts. Jike looked down and saw the damned at the front of the queue, once a man, standing with its hands on its hips, feet in a wide stance of belligerence, looking up at him.
"I'm waiting here," the damned said. "I'm next."
"Sorry," Jike said. He reached down and took hold of the damned with his massive hands, claws digging into the its flesh and drawing black blood. He lifted the damned with enough speed to jerk its neck and almost break it.
"About time," the damned said.
"Sorry," Jike said again, and pushed the damned into the mouth of the shredder. The damned screamed as the infernal claws extended and ripped the flesh off its bones and the huge, spinning grinders pulled it into the belly of the machine.
Chastened, Jike focused on his work again. He picked up each of the damned as they stepped up to the front of the queue, always piercing them with his claws--this was Hell, after all--and pushed them into the shredder for the next part of their punishment.
Screams were nonstop. The splatter of viscera from the shredder was constant. The smells were a never ending churn of blood and brimstone. All the elements of the job that he had loved for so long were still there, but Jike felt ... nothing. He felt like a machine. Like just another part of the shredder, but without the benefits.
"Excuse me."
Jike sighed as he realized that he had stopped again. Another damned was having to wait. If his supervisor noticed, he would be ripped a new one. Again. The third time in the last eternity or so.
Mechanically, because he already had more assholes than he needed, Jike leaned over and grabbed the damned who had spoken.
"Wait, wait," the damned said.
If the damned had screamed and wailed for mercy or forgiveness, Jike would not have noticed. Screaming and blubbering was to be expected. It was part of what once had appealed to Jike. But something in the damned's voice caught his attention. Something familiar even.
Jike held the damned close to his face. He had probably seen this damned before. Probably heard its screams. Hell was one big punishment mill, painfully grinding the damned and then--also painfully--putting them back together to go through it all again. "What?" he asked, breathing sulfur in a yellow cloud.
The damned coughed, gesturing with a free hand for Jike to wait. Finally, he managed to force out, "Hang on." He paused and coughed again, and blinked tears out of his eyes. "I've been through this line I don't know how many times. No, no, hear me out. It's my punishment, I get that. I'm OK with that.
"But," the damned went on, "I can't help thinking there's a lot of inefficiency in the system."
Jike pulled the damned even closer, so its face almost touched his gaping nostrils, and squeezed. The damned's eyeballs bugged. "Are you saying I am doing a bad job?" Jike asked.
"No, no, not at all," the damned protested. "Furtherest thing from my mind. You've been nothing but professional every time I've come through. Rude, callous, brutal, petty--everything we've all come to expect from a demon of Hell. What I'm thinking is that we could achieve a lot of improvement in both throughput and quality with one simple change..."
Available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
-David
Jike leaned down to grab the next damned in the queue, but paused, looking over the shaven heads of the damned at the queue itself. The queue stretched like an immense snake of impending torment and misery into infinity. Jike sighed and shook his head. He had been at work--it seemed like forever--and he would be here--that seemed like forever too.
"Hey. Hey, you."
The damned's voice, impatient and demanding, interrupted Jike's thoughts. Jike looked down and saw the damned at the front of the queue, once a man, standing with its hands on its hips, feet in a wide stance of belligerence, looking up at him.
"I'm waiting here," the damned said. "I'm next."
"Sorry," Jike said. He reached down and took hold of the damned with his massive hands, claws digging into the its flesh and drawing black blood. He lifted the damned with enough speed to jerk its neck and almost break it.
"About time," the damned said.
"Sorry," Jike said again, and pushed the damned into the mouth of the shredder. The damned screamed as the infernal claws extended and ripped the flesh off its bones and the huge, spinning grinders pulled it into the belly of the machine.
Chastened, Jike focused on his work again. He picked up each of the damned as they stepped up to the front of the queue, always piercing them with his claws--this was Hell, after all--and pushed them into the shredder for the next part of their punishment.
Screams were nonstop. The splatter of viscera from the shredder was constant. The smells were a never ending churn of blood and brimstone. All the elements of the job that he had loved for so long were still there, but Jike felt ... nothing. He felt like a machine. Like just another part of the shredder, but without the benefits.
"Excuse me."
Jike sighed as he realized that he had stopped again. Another damned was having to wait. If his supervisor noticed, he would be ripped a new one. Again. The third time in the last eternity or so.
Mechanically, because he already had more assholes than he needed, Jike leaned over and grabbed the damned who had spoken.
"Wait, wait," the damned said.
If the damned had screamed and wailed for mercy or forgiveness, Jike would not have noticed. Screaming and blubbering was to be expected. It was part of what once had appealed to Jike. But something in the damned's voice caught his attention. Something familiar even.
Jike held the damned close to his face. He had probably seen this damned before. Probably heard its screams. Hell was one big punishment mill, painfully grinding the damned and then--also painfully--putting them back together to go through it all again. "What?" he asked, breathing sulfur in a yellow cloud.
The damned coughed, gesturing with a free hand for Jike to wait. Finally, he managed to force out, "Hang on." He paused and coughed again, and blinked tears out of his eyes. "I've been through this line I don't know how many times. No, no, hear me out. It's my punishment, I get that. I'm OK with that.
"But," the damned went on, "I can't help thinking there's a lot of inefficiency in the system."
Jike pulled the damned even closer, so its face almost touched his gaping nostrils, and squeezed. The damned's eyeballs bugged. "Are you saying I am doing a bad job?" Jike asked.
"No, no, not at all," the damned protested. "Furtherest thing from my mind. You've been nothing but professional every time I've come through. Rude, callous, brutal, petty--everything we've all come to expect from a demon of Hell. What I'm thinking is that we could achieve a lot of improvement in both throughput and quality with one simple change..."
Available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
-David
