ManKind
About
my story, “Mankind.”
I wrote this story back in 2012. My father once told me a story about when he was a child, about watching the moon landing of July 20, 1969 with his father and family. I have written this story in the memory of my grandfather, Martin.
I wrote this story back in 2012. My father once told me a story about when he was a child, about watching the moon landing of July 20, 1969 with his father and family. I have written this story in the memory of my grandfather, Martin.
MANKIND
By Ann Crystal
I am an old man.
Eventful was my life. The memories I have of my young self are vivid and complete.
Sometimes I wish for the memory issues that seniors sometimes experience at my age. To forget some of the things I have done would be a vacation from my conscience.
Then again, there are the memories that I should learn to bask in. There are the secrets that I have learned, which some would kill for.
I remember when I was hired to eliminate a man named Mike Wells. He was a smalltime politician who had begun to make a name for himself in uncorrupted ways.
After doing my homework, I learned everything I believed necessary to complete the job. One key piece of knowledge was that Mike Wells often required the services of a company, Tomorrows Mechanics Inc.
The television was turned to a newscast when I entered one of the many rooms of the Mike Wells’ estate. I wore the beige jumpsuit and held the tool bag of a Tomorrows Mechanics employee.
The room had nine-foot ceilings and polished oak floors; there was a large window with heavy, red curtains draped over it; and surrounding the television were four white-cushioned chairs that had wooden trim and armrests.
“Good.” The voice of Mike Wells was whiny and boyish.
I turned as the average height man walked into the room. He had on black slacks but no shirt. I raised an eyebrow and suddenly wondered what the services of Tomorrows Mechanics were.
“I need this fixed immediately,” Mike Wells said, “I’ve an important engagement tonight.”
Before I could respond, Mike Wells turned around.
The tool bag left my hand and made a heavy thud when it dropped onto the oak floor.
“Does it look that bad?” Mike Wells asked, “How long will this take.” He did not turn back around.
A glass door on his back concealed a circuit board with switches and lights that wildly blinked and flashed.
“These crazy lights claim my processor is in mayhem,” Mike Wells whined, “Although I do not feel any different for it.” He shrugged and heavily sighed.
I covered my mouth with my left hand as if to keep myself from screaming.
“Well?” Mike Wells stood there, barefooted and shirtless. He turned to face me and I dropped my hand from my mouth. For the first time in my career, I was dumbfounded. “Well?” Mike Wells asked again.
But I was not stupefied. “It looks worse than it is,” I said while hoping that I knew enough to at least reset Mike Wells.
My job was to eliminate humans, not robots.
Fifteen minutes later, I took my leave and was just about to close the door when I heard the volume on the television increase.
“One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”
I shook my head and closed the door.
This is one of those memories, one of the secrets that I’ve learned, which some would kill for.
END