The Machine - 1 - Shovelers
3 minute read
Cole was a shoveler. There were other shovelers, but he was responsible for his part of the machine. If all the parts weren't running, the entire machine would breakdown and the world would explode.
At least, that was what the legend was.
He had been a shoveler his entire life, moving his way up to his current role, which required him to feed the machine 6 times a day, every day, until he was able to move to the next role, which was 4 times a day.
Being a shoveler was manual, painful work. He started at the bottom of the ladder, shoveling twice an hour, every day, with hardly any sleep breaks. If you were lucky, someone would help you and you could sleep longer, or have time to eat a bit more. If you weren't lucky or didn't have friends or family who could help, you were stuck on your own waking up every half hour making sure the machine was fed.
Cole was an unlucky one. He was only 31 but looked twice his age. His back ached all the time and his hands were big callouses. At his level though, he got a chair, so his feet felt better than before, but they were already scarred and bruised from being a shoveler for so long.
Most shovelers didn't make it as long as he had, and there were only a handful who were higher on the ladder than him. He had seen other shovelers come and go, each time a little different than the last. Some of them screamed and ran away never to return. Others cried on the job. He saw some shovelers who attacked the enforcers and tried to throw them into the machine. Of course, that never worked because the enforcers were giant, beast-like men who, as far as Cole could tell, ate most of the food in town and had the luxury of reinforcements to help out when things got ugly. Enforcers were higher-up on the food chain in town, and whenever a shoveler quit, they had more lined up and ready to shovel within minutes.
This was all by design, of course. If shovelers weren't lined up and ready to work, the machine would break, and the world would end. The enforcers did not want the world to end, so they always had shovelers ready to go. And the machine required a lot of shovelers. Beginner shovelers, who fed their parts of the machine the most, numbered in the hundreds, and each "higher-level" part of the machine required fewer and fewer shovelers.
Cole tossed his heap of fuel into the machine and threw his shovel on the dirt. The fire in the machine raged higher as he backed into his chair. He watched the flames climb higher in the machine through the small, round window. There were a few cracks on the outer pane, the smoke seeped through the edges, and the glass would burn you if you put your hand up against it. This was an older machine part, but exactly how old, nobody was sure. The entire machine had been around for as long as anybody could remember, and some parts were swapped in and out occasionally as needed, so they wouldn't fail.
Cole closed his eyes. The heat didn't bother him much anymore. He was raised in it and now kind of missed it when he wasn't around. He thought back to his early days of shoveling and laughed at the idea of not being used to it. He hardly knew a world without it anymore. Except now it was getting hotter than he remembered. Beads of sweat started pooling on his forehead and dripping off his nose. He opened his eyes to see the window had blown out one of the seams, and now flames and sparks were flying through it onto the ground.
"Shit." Cole jumped out of his seat and grabbed his shovel.