Tevun-Krus #70 - Punk Wars II

Fat, Red Button - A Short Something by @jinnis

Fat, Red Button

By jinnis

Hieronymus knew from a very young age he wasn't supposed to push the fat, red button. Everyone he'd ever met had told him so. His mother told him almost every single day since he could remember. Hieronymus was sure something bad would happen if he did. Perhaps there wouldn't be homemade pistachio ice cream for dessert. Temptation to test his theory itched his finger, but he kept away from the button.

Then, out of the blue, his mother did the unthinkable and pushed it herself. At least that's what he was told. Shortly after, she jumped over the rail, got rescued by one of those stinking diesel pots that had popped up out of nowhere, and sailed away into the sunset. Hieronymus coughed in the cloud of diesel fumes swirling over the deck and pondered what he missed more — his mom or her pistachio ice cream.

To turn his mind from the sorely-missed treat, he analysed the button situation. Soon, he concluded his father must have pushed the button too. How else was it possible Hieronymus never met him?

He ran to his aunt to explain his deduction, but she only laughed and told him to stay away from the button. Then she claimed his help to fit the Barge with more cannon. Hieronymus respected his aunt and suspected she knew what she was talking about. He humoured her.

When she stood there, goggles pushed up into her mane of fiery locks, welding torch in one hand, massive tong in the other, it was hard to doubt her. She had built the Steaming Barge from scraps, adjusted all the cogs and valves and pistons until it became the undisputed masterpiece it was.

For decades, the Barge dominated the skyways, and her captain became a legend in her own right. For young Hieronymus, Aunt Milliclaire stood on a level with legendary heroes like Robin Hood, Genghis Khan and Santa Claus. Perhaps even Sponge Bob. Although, he still thought the latter was possibly even cooler than Aunt Millie. Who wouldn't want to live in a place called Bikini Bottom?

Anyway. Aunt Millie had been his role model from early on. So, after her tragic death in an encounter with the flying stink-pots and some sizzling lightning-thrower, he took over the Barge. Hieronymus was determined to run her in Auntie's honour. His first mission was to solve the riddle of her unfortunate demise.

The investigation turned out long and arduous. This wasn't helped by the fact a bunch of new machines roamed the earth. Well, not true machines, they were part organic, part mechanic, part electronic. Cyborgs, they called themselves. Real punks.

That's when it hit home. Hieronymus climbed up to the bridge, where the fat, red button dwelled. It looked bright, innocent, and alluring. Yes, he remembered right. A tiny sign spelt it out in bold letters, engraved on a shiny brass plate right beside it.

— Punk button. Use at your own risk —

Did Aunt Millie get upset enough about the diesel engines to push it? Hieronymus needed a seat and something more when the truth sank in. Fortunately, Auntie had a whole cabinet of something mores right there on the bridge. But before he could decide which bottle to try first, the Barge rattled and shook in another assault. A glimpse over the rail told him the stink-pots engaged the cyborgs in a fierce fight.

Desperate, he reached for a bottle of Auntie's strongest Caribbean rum. He took a swig and coughed his soul out. This wasn't the remedy he'd hoped for.

Tears streaming down his face, his gaze traveled back to the button. How much worse could it get? The world was already invaded by combustion fumes and electronics. Three was the charm, right? Next time, things must surely get better...

Hieronymus took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pushed the fat, red button.