Contraption by Anthony Torres F IRST P LACE Thomas heard stars and static humming out from the tinkering contraption inside of him, familiar as a sliver of sun in a dark room. Coming online was first a matter of noise; then, of color and speech. Searing fluorescents and twinkling white tiles populated before Thomas like coalescing sections in the contraption’s orchestra. A rippling fellow in a mint gob hat had been fixed on Thomas, who, sensitive to silence, sent a glance to either side where he found he was flanked by two faces bright as the yummy lumps in the case before him. Well, “YUMMY” had been promised by a neon sign, but the colors sang out to him: the contraption quickened. “Need a recommendation?” said the man in the mint gob. “Thomas,” chimed the voice from his left, “you’ve gotta get mint mocha!” “Roddy the extra,” said the one on his right, sonorous. “His first time should be something simple like coffee cream swirl.” The man in the mint gob waffled aloud about liking both but not loving either. Soon, the line at Flotsam Creamery frothed with this new discourse of the not-quite passionate. Thomas’s contraption whisked the droning and popping conversation into its function, the weird transmissions of its whirling. Sometimes they produced colors before him, flashing in patterns after a theremin player’s hands. Ice cream was something new, and Thomas had nothing to do, so this was just the idea. Coffee cream swirl was about the same color as the girl on his right. How confusing that the sight made a sound he liked. “I like what I like, Andie, but you’ve got a point,” said Roddy. Outside, a healthy spring sun sizzled its one synthy note.The trio’s every footstep felt, to Thomas, like muffled strikes of a carillon. Two friends and their new noise-operated classmate taking their time enjoying ice cream in the cathartic aftermath of another drab school day. Andromeda and Rodrick wore colors that matched their sound, ruddy beiges and always candy cane socks for the latter. Thomas often felt gray, but Andie and Roddy had activated him, changing his mode from mere data gatherer to interpreter.Thomas understood color to be the result of reflections on the world around him, each petal, blade, bulb, and body alchemizing in them noise and light to issue an emblazoned thesis, as if they all had their own contraptions. Only as if, though; for Thomas had never met another machine of his ilk.Was there a funny way to ask if Andie and Roddy had “heard it too?” At a fountain, Andie went on about how recruiting Thomas for a hangout had been her idea. Thomas learned from her that it was weird watching you choose to stay behind in class and play fish whisperer, but it was neat to find someone so analog for a change; Roddy, meanwhile, was of the mind that you just needed to like a cooler fish, man. Thomas made no comment and maintained complete commitment to his fascination with the betta and schools of neon tetra.The
9
