Science Fiction > Moving Day
October 23rd 2006 00:04
Moving Day
6 June 2054, 15:27
Harville, Iowa
General Kinomoto's limousine parted the cadre of moving vehicles like Moses and the Red Sea. He supervised each relocation personally. Marie McComber was out on her front porch sitting in the swing chair with a circle of men around her. She was serving homemade lemonade from freshly squeezed lemons.
The farm was crawling, literally with robots. Mostly strong-armed mover droids picking up larger pieces of scrap and loading it into trucks. The McComber residence had a variety of automobiles, trucks and even the odd tractor, all of which were in various states of disrepair, or were project vehicles. The only two buildings left standing were Marie's home, and the Barn. There were two armed guards outside the barn.
As the General, left the limousine Marie smiled cordially at him and offered him a glass, which he took, even though he despised lemons and the taste thereof. He swallowed the glass in almost one gulp, in a folksy sort of down-home manner. His adjunct, knowing his distaste for lemonade took great pains to suppress a macabre smile.
“Nothing like cold lemonade on a hot day.” He smiled broadly looking down at her.
“Go on, General, have another.” She pointed to the pitcher.
“Ah not right now. I've come to see how Charlie is doing with all this.”
“Well, he's not leaving the barn. He's insisting he be allowed to finish his work.” Marie replied.
He cocked an eyebrow up, in an exaggerated, pseudo-quizzical manner.
“He was up all night; he really wanted to drive the classic off the lot. Then again, he doesn't have a driver's license, so I don't suppose it makes much difference, does it?”
“Well,” he said, continuing with the folksy demeanor, “I can understand not wanting to leave a job half done. On the other hand, we have a schedule to check. Why don't you let me go down and talk to him? We haven't been formally introduced, at any rate.” He said.
“Good idea.” She said approvingly. She stood and went to go with him. He dripped sweat in the June Iowa summer and spoke softly to her, using as much of his abilities as he could without taking off his glasses. “Why don't you let me talk to him alone, Mrs. McComber? Man to man. I think he will appreciate that. You can finish your packing.
She smiled brightly at him, but her eyes did not fade to the starry blackness. At this stage, he could merely suggest things and she would be malleable.
“That's a good idea, General. A little man to man chat. Yes, I must have some packing to do.” She toddled off and into the house as he stepped off the antiquated front porch. Softly he walked toward the Barn as his adjunct caught up with him. He spoke quietly to him. “Make sure she finished packing, once we get the boy en route I want the house taken up as quickly as possible. Take four feet down, make sure you have enough nutrients, and mind the plumbing. Tell the local County Council that they can file an environmental reclamation claim when the deed comes back to them.”
The adjunct snapped back, “sir, yes sir.” Crisply. Clearly, he had done this a number of times.
The two men in front of the door tapped the butts of their rifles to the ground and then back to a cradled position as he approached. It was his own private salute to his inner core. He looked to the older of the two, whose name badge read, “Jeffries.”
“Corporal. Report.”
“Subject McComber, Charles is inside. Subject McComber refuses to leave the premises and this door has been barred from within, sir.”
He looked at them both.
“Stand away,” and then softly he knocked.
“Go 'way. I'm not done yet.” An anxt-riddled voice bellowed out in some form of teenage ferocity.
“Charlie, its General Kinomoto.” He spoke solidly.
Charlie spoke something the General did not hear, but could have conceivably been a swear word.
“Charlie, can you let me in? This door won't budge.” General Kinomoto did not even try it.
“Use the side door. But I'm not leaving until this is done.” Charlie retorted.
The General went to one side and found the side door. This had a well-trod path, and as he followed it back with his eyes, it led to the house, almost directly. Marie McComber had made this path with her many trips back and forth to see her only son. He pulled at the door handle, and it creaked a bit unsteadily.
“Be careful with that door, it's not real stable. Been meaning to fix it for a while, but ma made me keep the front one unlatched anyway.”
“Charlie, I'm General Kinomoto. I'll be your commanding officer.”
The only serious light source came from underneath an enormous vehicle, from what appeared to be some sort of welding torch.
“Good to meet you, sir. I'll be out of the pit in a second. Just need to finish this cut.”
General Kinomoto's eyes kept track of the light, as it moved alongside the bottom of the vehicle, and antiquated four-axle Freightliner Classic. Its engine exposed, the front hood lay off the vehicle. Sparks flew from underneath as the cutting torch worked its magic.
“I know moving is hard, Charlie.” The General spoke.
“Yeah. No fun at all. Dang thing. Okay, General, I'm coming up. This thing just isn't loose one little bit.”
If it was one thing the General liked about the farm boys is that when a superior came around, they were obedient. Not like the smart-mouthed city brats who always wanted this, or that. Charlie merely wanted to play with his trucks. Can't blame a kid for wanting to have a hot rod.
The tractor had a trailer of some sort hitched to it, and Charlie was on the opposite side of the vehicle. He came up the pit's ramp, and then alongside the trailer, when a sickening metal twist of a sound came along. Then he started to run.
The General's eyes widened a touch as Charlie's looming figure rose at the side of the engine compartment. He saw an over sized handgrip at a section of engine. He grunted.
“General, I need a hand.”
General Kinomoto strode toward the engine. “No, no,” Charlie called, “I need you to open the front barn door. There's a hunk of two by four across the back of the door, keeps it from opening. Just open it up, and stand out of the way.
The General looked in the Ebony darkness, and then, following a slice of light from under the barn, found the two by four. With some effort, he twisted it away, and the barn door rolled a little open. The twisted metal sound was even greater now.
“Can't hold this forever. It's going to have to come out.” Charlie gritted his teeth as twisting metal followed by an awkward silence. The two soldiers had turned to face into the barn, the full light of the summer lighting Charlie up like a roman candle.
Charlie was pouring in sweat, and was standing at his full seven foot two size. Above his head, he carried the ancient diesel engine, and walked carefully out the barn door, carrying it as if he were carrying a human child. He looked about, found an enormous walnut tree beside the barn, and then squatted, laying the engine down. His back was nothing but ripped musculature. Both of the guard’s mouths opened. Charlie petted the engine and then turned.
“General. I'd shake, but...” he shone both hands, glistening in diesel oil.
“It's alright son. I'm here to escort you home.” General Kinomoto said.
He looked down, and then at the house.
“Your people say they have enough room for a couple of my projects. That engine, I can load onto a flatbed, and the truck with it. I'll need my tools, too.”
“They will be moved. We already took care of your dad, Charlie. We'll take care of you next.” General Kinomoto barked orders that the barn went with Charlie, its contents moved into a support hangar. Charlie washed his hands in an outside hose, and when he had finished scraping the nails clean with a penknife, he then offered the right one to the General in a shaking motion.
The hand was huge, the size of a computer monitor. With a single motion, he could have crushed enough of the metatarsals in it that it would require complete replacement. Charlie's touch was delicate, almost like a girls. He put the crook of his thumb and forefinger against the General's and shook. The two men eyed each other for a moment.
“Pa says he's doing a bit of swimming now. Can't thank you enough, sir.” Charlie said.
General Kinomoto smiled. This was all a part of the plan.
“It's you we need to thank, son. Being a part of Gteams is a great service to your country.”
Charlie nodded, and then looked down a bit at the dirt.
“I hate to leave. I hate to leave my ma. She's done so much. I imagine that Pa will want to come back and get all this stuff resorted and back on the road.”
The general shook his head softly. “Don't worry about it, son. They will be looked after for the rest of their lives. They will end up with plush government jobs, good retirement. It's a kind of thank you; we give the parents for picking up and moving like this.”
Charlie smiled. “Yeah?”
“They will end up on an Agriculture station. Your dad can maintain bots and equipment, and your mom can do the bookwork and other miscellaneous duties.” The General replied.
“My dad hates space.” Charlie said with a wry grin.
“Ag stations have their own gravity. He'll never know the difference.”
“Eh.” Charlie said. He knew a good deal when he heard it though, and that his parents were getting a good deal was all he cared. He and his mom had been talking about this moment for the last month and a half.
“Hey General,” a thin voice called out, “what do we do with this piece of crap?”
A thin, wiry black man was standing next to the engine under the walnut tree. He had a hand outstretched on the engine and was almost petting it in an oddly intimate manner. He was dressed in a black jumpsuit with a zipper front. He had no denotations of rank, and his name patch said only, 'Gears' upon it.
General Kinomoto turned and looked at the man. He looked at Charlie who had a frown on his face.
“It's not a piece of crap.” Charlie protested.
The man continued to touch the engine. “2006 series Detroit Diesel Engine with a retrofitted environmental suppression cube, circa 2032. Someone has been fiddling with it, however, as its blown two pistons, in cylinder number four, and number six. Looks like crap to me.”
Charlie's jaw dropped. The General smiled. He could not have planned this timing better.
“Charlie, let me introduce you to Gears. He's our senior mechanic and outrigger.” He walked Charlie over.
The black man took his hand off the block. There was a tiny electrical discharge as he withdrew, and then offered it to Charlie. Charlie shook suspiciously.
“Gears, Über. Über, Gears.”
Gears nodded.
“Über?” Charlie looked at The General.
“Don't look at me. One of our public relations people thought it up.” Not my department. The General said.
“It fits.” Gear said approvingly. “Die Übermensch.” He said.
“Say what?” Charlie applied.
“It was a phrase from the second great World War. It meant a superior man.”
Charlie looked at the ground. He did not like people talking about him as superior. He did not like all this talk at all, frankly. He was just a country boy, being forced to grow up a little too fast for his liking.
“Gears here will show you around. Unfortunately your trainer won't be back for another month, so she has said.” Kinomoto interjected.
Charlie cocked an eyebrow as Gears whistled.
“So why the rush to move?” Charlie asked.
“It'll take close to a week to get this home relocated.” The General retorted.
“Probably take you longer than that to get settled in.” Gears chimed. “Sides, if you don't mind, I could use the help. We are retrofitting some old SR-110 Blackhawks for robotic control. Someone who knew the right side of a wrench is always welcome.”
“Never worked on a Jet before.” Charlie said.
“Pretty easy, a lot like working on an oversized SUV. If you can handle an engine replacement I'm sure you'll pick this up fairly quick.”
Charlie smiled.
The General did his best to mimic Charlie's grin. “Sounds like you two will be busy. Can you show him around, Gears? Commissary, food ducts, all that?”
“You got it, General. Are they finished doing the refit on his quarters?”
The General nodded. “Had to make you a proper shower, they did. Even built you a tub.”
Charlie titled his head. He had told no one, but since the age of ten, when he was unable to get around in the house, he had been bathing outside, with a hose. A hot shower would be something, much less a tub to soak in. Maybe, just maybe this would not be so bad at all.
6 June 2054, 15:27
Harville, Iowa
General Kinomoto's limousine parted the cadre of moving vehicles like Moses and the Red Sea. He supervised each relocation personally. Marie McComber was out on her front porch sitting in the swing chair with a circle of men around her. She was serving homemade lemonade from freshly squeezed lemons.
The farm was crawling, literally with robots. Mostly strong-armed mover droids picking up larger pieces of scrap and loading it into trucks. The McComber residence had a variety of automobiles, trucks and even the odd tractor, all of which were in various states of disrepair, or were project vehicles. The only two buildings left standing were Marie's home, and the Barn. There were two armed guards outside the barn.
“Nothing like cold lemonade on a hot day.” He smiled broadly looking down at her.
“Go on, General, have another.” She pointed to the pitcher.
“Ah not right now. I've come to see how Charlie is doing with all this.”
“Well, he's not leaving the barn. He's insisting he be allowed to finish his work.” Marie replied.
He cocked an eyebrow up, in an exaggerated, pseudo-quizzical manner.
“He was up all night; he really wanted to drive the classic off the lot. Then again, he doesn't have a driver's license, so I don't suppose it makes much difference, does it?”
“Well,” he said, continuing with the folksy demeanor, “I can understand not wanting to leave a job half done. On the other hand, we have a schedule to check. Why don't you let me go down and talk to him? We haven't been formally introduced, at any rate.” He said.
She smiled brightly at him, but her eyes did not fade to the starry blackness. At this stage, he could merely suggest things and she would be malleable.
“That's a good idea, General. A little man to man chat. Yes, I must have some packing to do.” She toddled off and into the house as he stepped off the antiquated front porch. Softly he walked toward the Barn as his adjunct caught up with him. He spoke quietly to him. “Make sure she finished packing, once we get the boy en route I want the house taken up as quickly as possible. Take four feet down, make sure you have enough nutrients, and mind the plumbing. Tell the local County Council that they can file an environmental reclamation claim when the deed comes back to them.”
The adjunct snapped back, “sir, yes sir.” Crisply. Clearly, he had done this a number of times.
The two men in front of the door tapped the butts of their rifles to the ground and then back to a cradled position as he approached. It was his own private salute to his inner core. He looked to the older of the two, whose name badge read, “Jeffries.”
“Corporal. Report.”
“Subject McComber, Charles is inside. Subject McComber refuses to leave the premises and this door has been barred from within, sir.”
He looked at them both.
“Stand away,” and then softly he knocked.
“Go 'way. I'm not done yet.” An anxt-riddled voice bellowed out in some form of teenage ferocity.
“Charlie, its General Kinomoto.” He spoke solidly.
Charlie spoke something the General did not hear, but could have conceivably been a swear word.
“Charlie, can you let me in? This door won't budge.” General Kinomoto did not even try it.
“Use the side door. But I'm not leaving until this is done.” Charlie retorted.
The General went to one side and found the side door. This had a well-trod path, and as he followed it back with his eyes, it led to the house, almost directly. Marie McComber had made this path with her many trips back and forth to see her only son. He pulled at the door handle, and it creaked a bit unsteadily.
“Be careful with that door, it's not real stable. Been meaning to fix it for a while, but ma made me keep the front one unlatched anyway.”
“Charlie, I'm General Kinomoto. I'll be your commanding officer.”
The only serious light source came from underneath an enormous vehicle, from what appeared to be some sort of welding torch.
“Good to meet you, sir. I'll be out of the pit in a second. Just need to finish this cut.”
General Kinomoto's eyes kept track of the light, as it moved alongside the bottom of the vehicle, and antiquated four-axle Freightliner Classic. Its engine exposed, the front hood lay off the vehicle. Sparks flew from underneath as the cutting torch worked its magic.
“I know moving is hard, Charlie.” The General spoke.
“Yeah. No fun at all. Dang thing. Okay, General, I'm coming up. This thing just isn't loose one little bit.”
If it was one thing the General liked about the farm boys is that when a superior came around, they were obedient. Not like the smart-mouthed city brats who always wanted this, or that. Charlie merely wanted to play with his trucks. Can't blame a kid for wanting to have a hot rod.
The tractor had a trailer of some sort hitched to it, and Charlie was on the opposite side of the vehicle. He came up the pit's ramp, and then alongside the trailer, when a sickening metal twist of a sound came along. Then he started to run.
The General's eyes widened a touch as Charlie's looming figure rose at the side of the engine compartment. He saw an over sized handgrip at a section of engine. He grunted.
“General, I need a hand.”
General Kinomoto strode toward the engine. “No, no,” Charlie called, “I need you to open the front barn door. There's a hunk of two by four across the back of the door, keeps it from opening. Just open it up, and stand out of the way.
The General looked in the Ebony darkness, and then, following a slice of light from under the barn, found the two by four. With some effort, he twisted it away, and the barn door rolled a little open. The twisted metal sound was even greater now.
“Can't hold this forever. It's going to have to come out.” Charlie gritted his teeth as twisting metal followed by an awkward silence. The two soldiers had turned to face into the barn, the full light of the summer lighting Charlie up like a roman candle.
Charlie was pouring in sweat, and was standing at his full seven foot two size. Above his head, he carried the ancient diesel engine, and walked carefully out the barn door, carrying it as if he were carrying a human child. He looked about, found an enormous walnut tree beside the barn, and then squatted, laying the engine down. His back was nothing but ripped musculature. Both of the guard’s mouths opened. Charlie petted the engine and then turned.
“General. I'd shake, but...” he shone both hands, glistening in diesel oil.
“It's alright son. I'm here to escort you home.” General Kinomoto said.
He looked down, and then at the house.
“Your people say they have enough room for a couple of my projects. That engine, I can load onto a flatbed, and the truck with it. I'll need my tools, too.”
“They will be moved. We already took care of your dad, Charlie. We'll take care of you next.” General Kinomoto barked orders that the barn went with Charlie, its contents moved into a support hangar. Charlie washed his hands in an outside hose, and when he had finished scraping the nails clean with a penknife, he then offered the right one to the General in a shaking motion.
The hand was huge, the size of a computer monitor. With a single motion, he could have crushed enough of the metatarsals in it that it would require complete replacement. Charlie's touch was delicate, almost like a girls. He put the crook of his thumb and forefinger against the General's and shook. The two men eyed each other for a moment.
“Pa says he's doing a bit of swimming now. Can't thank you enough, sir.” Charlie said.
General Kinomoto smiled. This was all a part of the plan.
“It's you we need to thank, son. Being a part of Gteams is a great service to your country.”
Charlie nodded, and then looked down a bit at the dirt.
“I hate to leave. I hate to leave my ma. She's done so much. I imagine that Pa will want to come back and get all this stuff resorted and back on the road.”
The general shook his head softly. “Don't worry about it, son. They will be looked after for the rest of their lives. They will end up with plush government jobs, good retirement. It's a kind of thank you; we give the parents for picking up and moving like this.”
Charlie smiled. “Yeah?”
“They will end up on an Agriculture station. Your dad can maintain bots and equipment, and your mom can do the bookwork and other miscellaneous duties.” The General replied.
“My dad hates space.” Charlie said with a wry grin.
“Ag stations have their own gravity. He'll never know the difference.”
“Eh.” Charlie said. He knew a good deal when he heard it though, and that his parents were getting a good deal was all he cared. He and his mom had been talking about this moment for the last month and a half.
“Hey General,” a thin voice called out, “what do we do with this piece of crap?”
A thin, wiry black man was standing next to the engine under the walnut tree. He had a hand outstretched on the engine and was almost petting it in an oddly intimate manner. He was dressed in a black jumpsuit with a zipper front. He had no denotations of rank, and his name patch said only, 'Gears' upon it.
General Kinomoto turned and looked at the man. He looked at Charlie who had a frown on his face.
“It's not a piece of crap.” Charlie protested.
The man continued to touch the engine. “2006 series Detroit Diesel Engine with a retrofitted environmental suppression cube, circa 2032. Someone has been fiddling with it, however, as its blown two pistons, in cylinder number four, and number six. Looks like crap to me.”
Charlie's jaw dropped. The General smiled. He could not have planned this timing better.
“Charlie, let me introduce you to Gears. He's our senior mechanic and outrigger.” He walked Charlie over.
The black man took his hand off the block. There was a tiny electrical discharge as he withdrew, and then offered it to Charlie. Charlie shook suspiciously.
“Gears, Über. Über, Gears.”
Gears nodded.
“Über?” Charlie looked at The General.
“Don't look at me. One of our public relations people thought it up.” Not my department. The General said.
“It fits.” Gear said approvingly. “Die Übermensch.” He said.
“Say what?” Charlie applied.
“It was a phrase from the second great World War. It meant a superior man.”
Charlie looked at the ground. He did not like people talking about him as superior. He did not like all this talk at all, frankly. He was just a country boy, being forced to grow up a little too fast for his liking.
“Gears here will show you around. Unfortunately your trainer won't be back for another month, so she has said.” Kinomoto interjected.
Charlie cocked an eyebrow as Gears whistled.
“So why the rush to move?” Charlie asked.
“It'll take close to a week to get this home relocated.” The General retorted.
“Probably take you longer than that to get settled in.” Gears chimed. “Sides, if you don't mind, I could use the help. We are retrofitting some old SR-110 Blackhawks for robotic control. Someone who knew the right side of a wrench is always welcome.”
“Never worked on a Jet before.” Charlie said.
“Pretty easy, a lot like working on an oversized SUV. If you can handle an engine replacement I'm sure you'll pick this up fairly quick.”
Charlie smiled.
The General did his best to mimic Charlie's grin. “Sounds like you two will be busy. Can you show him around, Gears? Commissary, food ducts, all that?”
“You got it, General. Are they finished doing the refit on his quarters?”
The General nodded. “Had to make you a proper shower, they did. Even built you a tub.”
Charlie titled his head. He had told no one, but since the age of ten, when he was unable to get around in the house, he had been bathing outside, with a hose. A hot shower would be something, much less a tub to soak in. Maybe, just maybe this would not be so bad at all.
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