Deep

Chapter 1: Mundane Kings of Nuts and Bolts

To John it was new. He was new in the city of Kingsville, it was not quite as he had imagined it. He had imagined it kingly. But it was grimy, gritty, and heavily industrial. To him it felt as if the 20th Century had gone horribly wrong. There were no singing performers, no harlots, no Grand Luxury Streemers, no high society gentlemen with steel canes and augmented body parts. Here when someone lost a body part, he lost it! It was strange to him. Even after a month of staying, absorbing this somewhat minuscule shock, and renovating his cheap apartment, he was still recovering from it. At the moment he was going to his job. It was a bland one, an office clerk he was at the S-Brazers Ships and Locomotives Company. He wanted to stay as close to the sea as possible. But without realizing it himself he had drifted horribly far. He did not fight the sea or sea creatures, he did not build boats, he sat at a mahogany wooden desk, typed data and signed forms of no significance to him or his life and licked the boots of his superiors. It had been only a month, but he was tired enough to run away. But he didn't ... he flew, not away but 'to' his impending routine of self loathing. His shirt was new and white, with faint curves carefully sewed, his pantaloons were bland and faded, and his belt gleamed excessively. His blazer too was starved from overuse, it was the only one he had. The Steeky crunched to a hold crouching itself with it's metal arms in front of a large building proudly bearing the name "S-Brazers S&L Co.". He stepped out of the vehicle and onto the large porous platform and both of them cranked simultaneously and then he opened the door. Every time he pushed the door open, the pale sun glaring at the glass panels, he sighed and braced himself for the upcoming serving of hot and relentless abuse. He did so today as well. The reception was big enough to be a ball room. He could almost imagine the scene. Reception tables replaced with food buffets, expensive French rich wine bottles. Sunlight peering from the porous upper walls filling the room with a soothing golden light, like it did now. Admirers and the admired dancing slowly, giggling coyly, and proud surely. In such an environment he would look awfully out of place. SO, instead the real room fitted him better. He was awoken from his daydreaming by a graze on the back. A voice called out to him, " Oh ! Hullo McCullen, I hope everything is merry !" 

John replied, "Ah Yes...uhm...everything is fine"

-"I'm glad to hear that new boy, but you shouldn't be blocking the door with that puny body of your's "- He laughs.

-"I'm sorry sir, I will be on my way. Good day."

-"Good day to you McCullen."

John was a puny man, both in spirit and body, he was like an old chopstick, ragged and thin. He  may have been a puny man, but not in imagination. It sailed into the gleaming night sea, misty and perilous, where many adventures await. With merry seamen, and harsh pirates with steel steam puffing augmented limbs, and harsh crackling voices, and long dirty beards, and vile subordinates. And of parrots, and smoke blowing engines, and whales, and ferocious sea monsters, and underwater cities, and what not. But it was all of the sea.

Well, swimming back to the present, the plump and chirpy man John just met was a superior of his, Mann Fitzgerald. He always seemed to be in his Sunday mood, and Sunday clothes, and owned a twisted sense of humor. But unlike the many other machines working here, he at least had one. This was the kind of man John despised the most-free from all earthly troubles, someone who could spend his entire life on an air golf course. But strangely enough, he was among the only people around whom he felt at ease. He passed the wooden reception room, and headed left traversing the maze of office cabinets,and plastic smiles, and subsequently plastic frowns till he reached a plastic trash bin, under his wooden table. Here he worked, he sat on a chair, looked at a table, and typed on a typewriter, all warm now because of him. He did this everyday mechanically. A coffee-robo swerved by over his cabin filling it with smoke and steam. It looked just like it was supposed to- old,worn, cheap, and mostly efficient. While he worked, he could hear the faint murmur and giggles of his coworkers. He was new so he didn't have the pleasure of their company- he didn't mind. Soon enough he heard his telephone ring, he sighed and readied himself for upcoming abuse. He picked up the gold colored receiver, and was instantaneously bombarded with a constant barrage of verbal malice. When it was finished...he was finished. He lay on his chair like a molten mass of sludge. Everything else was too mundane, and by evening he started his long journey back home. Long but happy.