BRAD DIL MEORIAL SHORT STORY
FIRST PLACE
The Gears Krystal Aguirre
“Another day, another dime!,” there went Sarah’s boss again, always giving his daily speech. His unremitting voice had grown tiresome to Sarah. Everyday, it was the same thing: she woke up, ate, and went straight to work. Her only job was to make sure the gears of the ship were in pristine shape. Sarah’s boss, “Mr. Moneyman” she called him, never seemed to give her a break about them. “Are they oiled Sarah? There’s no rust, right Sarah? Mind the gears, Sarah!,” on and on all the time he went, she hoped one day he may as well trip in the gears. One less annoyance wouldn’t make a difference, ay? Ah, well, it’s not like there was much she could do; she couldn’t leave. Where exactly would you go on an airship, plummet to the Earth maybe? Ha! She’d rather slug gasoline before forfeiting her life to the ship! Ker-Klunk! “Damn…,”Sarah cursed under her breath. “The pumps…” Sarah carefully slipped through the cracks of the machinery to reach the pumps. Her thin physique was the sole reason why she was given this job; unlike her coworker, Sarah was able to move easily around the sector. She was still careful around the gears though. Everyone knew of the men who were once caught in them, to be grinded away and dragged into the darkness never to be seen again… hat a tale of misfortune. Sometimes, she swears she can still hear their screaming. Sarah tried her best to avoid such thoughts; it’s better to keep your mind out of the gutter than to drown in it. Tsk-tssss! “There.” Sarah huffed. She’d finished changing the filters in the pumps. Now it was time to get out. Everytime Sarah came back this far she got a little claustrophobic, a bad combination for someone who works in tight spaces. As Sarah tried to squeeze her way through the tubing, she heard an unfamiliar noise behind her. Ticka-tacka, ticka-tacka. A persistent ticking noise, seemingly from behind the pumps, “Odd…” She’d rather not go further than the pumps but, if something were wrong with the gears, she’d never hear the end of it from “Mr. Moneyman.” As uncomfortable as it was for Sarah, she’d rather die than be lectured by the man she distastes. Reluctantly, she began to move further in the darkness behind the pumps. The regular facility lights didn’t go back behind the pumps. At least the strap light on her head was good for something besides keeping the hair out of her face. With a flick, her light turned on with a soft haze. It was clear the place hadn’t been touched in years, a thick layer of dust coating the entire area. Shuffling across the pipes as carefully as she could, she followed the ticking noises. Ticka-tacka, ticka-tacka it continued. How annoying, she wondered if it could be heard throughout the factory. Ticka-tacka, ticka-tacka. It started to become louder, she was getting close. She ducked under some pipe into a clearing. The April Perennial 18
