Machine

              In the quiet belt of suburbia that sat just outside the city of Whirrington’s limits, the harsh screech of metal against metal hung in the air as a young boy heatedly shoved his brother against a chain-link fence.  Three streets away, the gears in a mother’s hands clicked furiously as she hemmed a dainty periwinkle prom dress.   

Day faded into darkness, and the moon crawled across the sky.  A few threads of its clear light crept across a girl’s trembling face.  Her hands, bathed in shadow, touched her throat; she marveled at how it shook with every sob.  As the moonlight gradually thickened into a soupy gold, she alighted on a solution to her problem. 

She began by practicing breaking up her smooth walk into jerkier motions.  That night she painstakingly buffed her soft skin with oil; the following morning, and every morning after, she would slick her hair back with grease.  She checked for rust after every rainstorm. 

Slowly, her joints began to creak, as if they were held in place by pulleys.  Her flesh hardened and took on a more riveted look.  On an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday, she woke up to find her muscles replaced with thousands of tiny gears. 

The inhabitants of Whirrington took note of the former invalid’s transformation.  The girl began to draw admiring looks from boys and men.  Waiters and waitresses no longer had to scrounge up disgusting concoctions of lard and fat for her at restaurants, and she took as much pride in ordering real food as she did in her quickly balding head. 

The years rolled by.  A sunny April afternoon found her teetering on a stool, admiring her reflection as she inspected the dress being fitted to her form.  She could see the street behind her in the mirror, and the people milling about it.  Her eyes fell on one of the strangers.  He was dressed strangely for the warm day:  a heavy overcoat and a dark, wide-brimmed hat.  His stride wasn’t the mechanized pace that she was accustomed to.  The features that she could discern were pale and imperfect.  Suddenly his eyes found her, and they weren’t stately black lenses but a glistening blue--In a heartbeat she had recalled how her body used to be, how its softness had repulsed her, how she had hated how it compared to others’ smooth chrome shells, and how she had shut herself up in her room convinced that no one could ever-- He indifferently turned his gaze away.  Wildly she jumped off of the stool, but her heavy dress and her legs were tangled together and she found herself falli--

Later, paramedics would sweep cracked gears and bolts into plastic bags.  They would avoid carrying the pieces of the girl’s face to the silent ambulance until it could not be put off any longer.  Her eyes were an unnatural white, and their wide gray irises gave the robots chills as they worked. 

Reviews

[Jacob Brine]

It's a good Science Fiction story and you do a marvelous job at taking events from our culture and placing them into this one while masking it with the idea of robots and the metamorphosis one undertakes to become one. This story seems about as good as the short stories I read in an anthology for my Science Fiction class last semester. You should really be proud of this one!

[aftervision]

feeling the just of this to my core my poet -- you have a blessed pen and a vision

[Truly Ross-Wisehart]

Human, disgusted with her condition, wanting to become machine. Opposite what one typically reads. This is a very good write. Imaginitive, descriptive, a bit sad. I like this.

~True

[Truly Ross-Wisehart]

Wow. I made a huge mistake coming to read this when I only have a few moments before I must go. I am bookmarking this and will be back for another read. I never grasp the whole picture, in a piece such as this, on my first read.

My first impression, though, is that you have some very real talent. I shall return~

~True

[Alicante lullaby]

very scientific...''Dark they were and yellow eyed'' feeling..could compare it with a girl who diets..ha.the theme grips and one draws new dimensions from it.intriguing.i loved clatter of gong.

[Dutch Jr.]

Your writing style was definitely built for storytelling, and you do so in a very articulate way. Reading through it now I don't see anything that I would change. Great work.

[Libby McKeown]

This story, and the ornate telling of it, is nothing short of masterful. The plot flows smoothly, and I really enjoyed how everything unfolded. The descriptions and imagery present here are subtle, powerful, and brilliant. It needs only the tiniest bit of ironing out. The metallic screech of metal on metal is redundant. Perhaps Whirringtown could be shortened to Whirrington, so the pun would be more subtle. Other than that, this is extremely solid work. Thank you so much for this brilliant story!

[Sam Severn]

A freaky-deaky Sci-Fi tale, n' you told it swift n' imaginative as hell! Got an "I, Robot" kinda vibe to it that I really liked. You fooled me a couple o' times (was she human? was she 'bot??), n' I really dug that, too!

This definitely feels like a small bit from a larger cyber-tale...Like the prologue to some mythological story from days of future 'bot dreams. Think about opening this up, and expanding the panorama...you really have something great n' original going here! ㋡

[AmeliaMae]

wow! this gave me chills...no joke! good job, my dear. all though i don't think you finished one line. it was second to last line of the second to last paragraph