[Munch's Master]

Thank you both for replying. And so now, to you, Splat and any other readers I bring you Chapter 19, in which not a great deal happens, but certain matters deepen:


Chapter 19: Conspirators
Spindly legs skittered back and forth across the floor. The owner of said spindly legs leafed through a thick tome entitled ‘Company Protocol’, seemingly unaware of his appendages’ means of inactivity relief beneath his desk. A heavy thud as the four clawed arms gripping the book dropped it back onto a shelf, and a quick flurry of movement as the claws clasped another sizeable charter. A gentle, operatic music filled the air, emitted from a nearby radio.
A series of thuds, followed by a loud buzz. The Vykker startled out of his chair, dropping the book and jerking backwards. He pressed a button on his desk, another buzz filling the air as he opened the intercom channel. The vykker’s high and snappy voice rang out over the speaker.
“What is it?”
A scratching noise could just be heard over the system, then a Slig’s gurgle “I’m uh, wantin’ ta speak ta Vykker Rasputin about my job.”
“You’re speaking to him already, moron. And shouldn’t you be in your job by now? It’s well past the designated lunchbreak.”
Shuffle shuffle from outside again. “Yeah, but I’ll make up for it with overtime. An’ can’t I come in, I’d rather speak face ta face.”
Rasputin huffed. “Yes, you Sligs and your need for visual communication. Such simpletons.”
A talon pressed a different button, and the doors slid open. The portly persona of Arthur ambled in.
“Um. You deal with employees an’ stuff, right?”
Rasputin removed his reading glasses, smoothly replacing them with a second pair of spectacles in a movement full of elbows and gangly bends. “Indeed I do. I take it you’re the person who spoke to head office about a transfer? I just had a Fonecall put through about you.”
Arthur shuffled from one foot to the other, various servos shifting about as he did so and disturbing the soft ambience in the process. Rasputin switched the radio off irritably.
Arthur spoke up “I was told I can’t get a transfer, so-”
The vykker interjected “So you shouldn’t be wasting my time. Door’s behind you, good-day.” He attempted to return to his employee charter.
“So I was wanting to see if I can have a change o’ job in the factory instead.” Said Arthur, not taking no for an answer.
The vykker slowly looked up again, narrowing his eyes. “Ah, I see this is part of your desires for greater job satisfaction. What’s the kind of job you’re after, then?”
A bastion of hope built up inside Arthur at these words “Well, I’m currently stuck on regular guard duty. I was wantin’ ta have somethin’ different. I wouldn’t mind sortin’ out tha Slog an’ Elum pens, or goin on cookin duty. I’ve got a bit of experience at kitchen work, an’ -”
Rasputin cut him off again “And that’s the kind of thing you’d enjoy? Only hiccup is that you have more experience as a guard. Oh, and that we already have a fine cuisine in the form of the standard Septik Snaks patented Grub for the Grunts, a production line delicacy that the slaves produce in the factory. So I frankly see no vacancy there.”
Bastion shattered, but Rasputin wasn’t finished.
“Also, there’s the fact that this is a factory. A business. Moolah is the main goal, and the happiness of the workforce certainly isn’t much of a matter. Maybe if you lot did your job keeping the mudokons in line so they stop rebelling; or if you all weren’t so lazy, or were valued members of staff, we’d take notice of what you think. But as it is, we don’t. Who are you to this factory, anyway?”
Arthur wasn’t sure how to respond to this. He began with “I’m Arth-” before being talked down again.
“You’re nobody, that’s who. A bottom of the barrel Slig guard who’s been here for….” He glanced at his charter without taking any real notice “About 8 years, and has never achieved a promotion. You got employee of the month once in your first year, and that’s it. You’re nobody, and nobody cares what you have to say.”
Arthur was getting indignant ‘How the frig do they know all this about me automatically? Are they spyin’ on me too!?’ “Look, how do ya-” he started.
But Rasputin was in full flow. “Ring Ring, Ring ring!” he snapped, and looked at the Fone on his desk. “Oh look, my Fone’s going off.” He picked up the receiver and mock answered it “Oh, hello? Hey, it’s Nobody on the line! He wants to know what you think about the place!” He put the phone back down, grinning cruelly “That’s all you are, Slig. A nobody and a drone. You’ll serve out your contract like everybody else, you’ll stick to your designated duties like everybody else, and I won’t care if you complain, just like everybody else.” He finished bitingly. The sweetness factor was then turned back on. “Door’s behind you, good day!”
Arthur slumped. His mind both enraged and embittered, he stomped out the door with his head lolling.
Rasputin switched the radio back on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Larry. It’s really not going to work.”
“Aw come on Trevor, have a little faith in me for once.”
“No, seriously. It’s just such an illogical idea. We won’t get away with it and it’ll just end up landing us in more trouble.”
“But it’s either this or leave things as they are, and it’s hardly looking good now is it?”
“Yes but Larry, suppose somebody finds us? What then?”
Larry sighed and shook his head. “Trev, we’re not doing anything that risky. We’re only getting Jeff off the Laughing Gas.”
Trevor stood with his arms as folded as they could be in shackles, leaning against the door frame. Jeff was due another Laughing Gas dose, the Gas was wearing off and bringing him back to depression, although the return of sanity was welcome.
“Trevor, you know as well as I do that Jeff can’t stay on this forever. He’s had Gas and Brew issues before, an’ Odd knows what this’ll do to his head. You heard him rambling about Microphones before, and Gas shouldn’t be doing that. He should only be giggling brainlessly and incoherently, not talking balderdash about machinery.”
Larry was stood with Jeff by the gas machine. The newer model was set up so that after affixing an anaesthetizer-styled breath-mask over the mouth, a quick flick of a switch would send the user into Gas-happy heaven. Max loitered nearby as well, once again for his muscle which, though not what it was a year ago, was still a bulky physique.
Trevor put his hands on his hips. “But we can’t’ just take him off it, we aren’t allowed. He had the medical bill passed to keep him on it by the Vykkers.”
Larry nodded “We can’t take him off it no. but we can break the machine.” He stated, gesturing to Max, who smirked.
Palms filled Trevor’s vision as he cradled his face in his hand in resigned exasperation. “Breaking machinery? You’ll get more than a beating for that you know. Bones broken, Slog duty, the full deal.” He looked up. “But you know what, go ahead. I’ll stand guard, that way maybe I can keep out of this fiasco.”
As Trevor turned to stand in the doorway facing outwards, Larry carefully ushered Jeff away from the machine. Jeff was feeling the effects of going cold turkey, as he glanced at Larry wit half gassed, half saddened eyes “Cold, Larry. Haha. And dark, inside. Need the, hehe, Gas. Makes me happy. Too many troubles. Ha. What will we do?”
Larry put his arm over Jeff’s shoulders, a mix of comfort and concern “It’s alright Jeff. We’ll get you off the Gas, then get you back to your old self. Remember? When you were always there with a calf solution, even if it didn’t make sense. I’ll even try and get you some new beads for ya ta wear.”
He looked at Max “Go on then, smash it!”
Trevor cut Max off just before he could rip the breath-mask out of the machine “Wait! If you just bash it apart, they’ll know we’ve done it. After all, we walk in and it’s intact, we walk out and it’s junk. You’ll have to break it from the inside.”
He walked over to the large apparatus. 2 wide tubes fed from the main machine to 2 large gas cylinders. “When the switch is flicked open, the canister valves are unscrewed. That’s what these wires that run along the side of the subbing are for- sending the signals to the pistons on the valve. One wire sends the signal, the other sends the instruction back to open the breath-mask valve, completing the circuit.” Trevor explained. “What you need to do is pull out the wires and crisscross them, connecting the wrong ones with each. That breaks the circuit and sends it in a figure of 8 loop. It’ll pump the gas out of 1 canister and try and pump it into the other. The pressure will then build in the tubes inside the machine, and they should burst, meaning it won’t work at all. Then you can swap the wires back around so it all looks fine, but the thing is bust.”
Larry was taken aback. “How’d you come up with all that, Trev?”
Trevor smiled “I am a Shaman, Larry; or at least training to be one. We’ve got to be pretty smart. Also, there’s a sheet on the wall there explaining how the machine works for employees; because it’s a new model.”
Larry glanced around, feeling an idiot once he noticed the annotated diagram. “Right.”
Max walked over to the back of the gas machine and was ready to unplug the wires, when Trevor stopped him again. “Max, I think this’ll need a more delicate touch.”
Max turned around and walked back across the room irritably. “Fine then! Just cause I’m big and strong means I can’t control myself or be careful.” He snapped.
Trevor sighed, and took it upon himself to swap the wires over. He signalled for one of them to flip the switch, and Max did so, almost cracking the panel to which the switch was affixed as he took out his annoyance on the machine.
The 4 mudokons backed away from the machine, fearful it may explode. But as the sabotaged circuits strained to work, and the gas tried to pump itself through, the only thing that happened was a loud “Sprumpf!” as the tubing inside the machine burst. Satisfied, Trevor switched the machine off again, reset the wires on each canister, and flicked it back on. A sound of gas hissing occurred, but nothing came out of the mask.
“there we go!” Said Larry, and he patted Jeff again. “S’alright Jeff, you’ll be on the mend soon enough.”
“S-sure Larry. Sure.” Jeff mumbled, his skin the pallid blue of a depressive.
The 4 quickly evacuated the room, their damage done, and aimed for their respective work areas once again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chink chinka click chink chinka click, thump, hiss. Arthur stepped through the other doorway, about to return to his post. His head continued drooping, with his mind lost in thought. His inattention meant he didn’t notice the Slig approaching him until they had already collided. The other Slig had been rapidly scampering towards him, but now neither of them were anything resembling rapid as they shook their heads and picked themselves up off the floor.
Arthur began “Sorry about th-”
But the Slig interrupted “Yeah yeah forget it. Listen, you’re that Slig the others used to think was soft, right?”
Arthur narrowed his eyes, the Slig already having got his back up. ‘Everybody’s interruptin me today. I’ll have Meeps talkin’ over me next, ‘specially if my sanity keeps on its current track.’
“Want me ta show ya how bloody soft I am? Who are you anyways, I’ve never seen ya before.”
The Slig again spoke in a hurry, eyes darting around as if afraid for secret watchers everywhere- in the ceiling, walls, floor. “I’m new. I’ve only just arrived. Anyway, you’re that guy right? The one who used to be friendly to the slaves? Arthur, right?”
Arthur paused. “…Yeah. I am Arthur. But that’s certainly not the case anymore, bud. What of it?”
The Slig leaned in to whisper to Arthur “The factory is cruel and oppressive. We need to help the slaves to help ourselves. We can only get out and find contentment with their help. The bosses won’t listen ta us.”
Arthur slowly backed away. “Trust me, I know enough about the management’s ignorance already. But what’s with all this stuff about the slaves?”
Again ,the Slig was less focused in responding and more intent on informing “I’m Mikey. There’s others, maybe not here but out there. We have to work with the slaves. They have the will ta break free, but we have the means. Together we can get out of this bullcrap lifestyle.”
Mikey’s unwilling co-conspirator paused. “If I just said 1 word, I could get ya killed fer that. Whaddaya want with me?” Arthur was getting concerned. ‘This guy’s an idealist and a nut. If word o’ this get’s out I’ll be facin’ another bout o’ hell from the others. Or worse.’
Mikey’s eyes rested on Arthur for the longest they had since their encounter “You feel the same. I know ya do. I heard another Slig sayin’ that someone called Arthur, that bein’ you, was wantin’ ta leave. An’ I’ve heard about how ya used ta be friendly with a mudokon who’s tried ta bust out before. Come on, get in on this. We can get away from here with them!”
Arthur raised his hands in a non-aggressive protest. “Look mate, if I was a few screws loose I might take ya up on the offer. But what you’re suggestin’ is suicide. Besides, I don’t like how everyone seems ta know what I’m doin’ right now. I don’t like bein’ treated as though my life is part of a book or story fer everyone ta read.”
Mikey again ignored him. He instead made a signal, holding his left arm up to his chest with 2 fingers extended pointing up, and placing his right arm across his body with his hand resting on his left elbow “Remember that signal. If ya see any other Slig doin’ it, they’re in on this with me. Say yes, Arthur…....I’d better go, I can’t let someone here this.” Mikey scuttled away as fast as the mechanics in his pants would allow him, the gyrating and humming a rapid metronome.
Arthur just fell back against a wall, resting his head on it and looking to the ceiling. He spoke aloud to himself. “Great. What’ve I been dumped in now?”
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As always, say whatever you wish in egard to the chapter- reviews, comments, anything. Stay tuned for Chapter 20: Bad Omens, next Monday. Chaper 21 will touch down even sooner than normal so I can get it up before I go on holiday.