The People of the Machine

It was difficult to remember that world, like my mind wanted me to keep silent. Perhaps the memories were imbedded deep inside. My grandson looked at me expectantly. It was time to pass on the warnings again- to a better audience this time.

“Let me start with your second question first. Who lived in the Machine? I wonder myself. They were strange men, not men like us, but tall, spindly creatures that I called scarecrows. They looked like the ones your daddy uses to protect his corn. Except these had six fingers to a hand. The worst part was their faces. They didn’t have one. Instead every one of them had a smooth, pallid mask that stretched down to the top bump of their neck bones. They were only ever interested in their Task. They spoke rarely and with great difficulty, but each time they did, they mentioned ‘the Great Task, which all else pales besides’. I never did learn what the meant…” I trailed off.

Roy settled against my chest and clutched my shirt. “Tell me everything you know about the Machine.”

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