Forged in Blood
The sound of hot metal being beaten into submission by power hammers rang through the factory. The steel was being prepared for a new railway that was supposed to cut down on travel time between city-states. Not that I’d ever be on one of the great mile long behemoths that traveled close to the speed of sound. Working in the steel industry meant that you stayed in your city-state, for letting us cross regions would allow for the transmission of information. With information we could realize how much power that we held.
A shout rang in my ears.
“Daydreaming again? If your station doesn’t meet quota for this week’s shipment you’re on dregs!” The shout of a fat foreman echoed over to my station from where he perched on a walkway above the factory floor.
The rotund man had obviously never been on dregs a day in his life. He constantly smelled of grain alcohol, something that our betters could actually afford.
I waved up at him in acknowledgement “Don’t you worry sir, this batch is almost ready for cooling.”
Being on dregs meant you didn’t get to join the line for the stew pots; starvation was an effective form of population control in the steel industry.
“One day I’m going to kill that man” I whispered into the ear of the man beside me. Gabriel was constantly on dregs, his malnourished frame couldn’t work the heavy hammer as fast as was required of us. Soot covered us both from head to toe but somehow he managed to remain jovial.
“With all the attention he gives you, Matty, it’s a wonder he hasn’t brought you flowers yet.” Gabriel shouted to be heard over the din of machinery. “He only harasses you because of those looks you always give him and the inspectors.”
“Look out!” The ear splitting shriek of metal tearing free of the presses which was swiftly followed by the cries of those who were caught in its path.
I barely managed to throw myself out of the way as a bar of molten metal the size of a man shot past my head, the heat instantly blistering my skin. Gabriel wasn’t so lucky becoming a fine mist as the steel blew through him. The only sign of his passing was the puddle of gore he left behind and a gaping hole in the wall.
The cackle of the foreman rang out, “Well, looks like you don’t have to worry about starving this week, boy!”
One day soon you’ll be no better than us. I glared at him as the black thought filled my head.
A cleanup crew came in and it was like Gabriel had never existed. To the rest of the country I guess he didn’t. Everyone loved a factory accident, except the families of the deceased and the inspectors who’d come inspect the mess. They couldn’t allow for a drop in production.
A few days later and the blisters were mostly healed but the damage had been done. The incident in the factory had us all on edge. The day had begun not with the clattering of machines, but with the announcement of an inspection.
“Remember boys, you are worms. Worms do not look up at the world above them. Worms keep working through the dirt, the light does not touch you.” the foreman shouted from his walkway.
“Yes sir.” Answered the worms.
“You work and keep your filthy mouths shut!” He ended his tirade with a wave of his hand. At once the sound of metalworking began again as we squirmed back to work.
My mouth remained shut. He wouldn’t have heard my reply anyway for I was a worm and had no voice. Pulling down on a handle on the side of the power hammer, it beat on the metal. I only raised the handle to place the rail into the furnace to heat or to rotate the length of metal. Otherwise it remained under constant barrage from the
hammer.
The factory door began to open, making way for five executives. They wore suits of fine black silk, imported from across the sea. Their faces were protected from the soot and smoke by gas masks, for why would they breathe the same air as us? Factories that didn’t meet their standards did not fare well, and with the recent accident
we were understaffed.
“That station there, they seem behind.” Said one pointing at a station that had lost three workers to the accident. “Have them work overnight till they’re caught up, laziness will not be tolerated.”
That’s nothing short of a death sentence. I slowed the hammering for a moment, and raised my eyes towards our executioners. One mistake, and steel becomes a missile.
The AB’s were simply making it clear that if your mistake didn’t cost you your life, then they certainly would.
“I’ll make sure they don’t leave their hammer for the rest of the week!” The foreman smiled smugly as he scrambled to show them the rest of his kingdom.
A worm has a purpose, recycling the earth. What is your purpose? You live to terrorize those who have no control. With little thought I misaligned the rail in the machine. “Come down from there, so we may speak face to face.”
The foreman moved down from his perch, sauntering over to his betters. They gathered around, mere meters from my station.
They did not notice the increase of sound from my station. The whining of metal that was begging to be released from its ties. The energy was building up. My technique would be seen as improper, the machine was worth more than I was and the noise drew the attention of the foreman and inspectors.
The fat man screamed “Worm! Get your shit together!”
Today this worm shall rise. With my final thought I let loose the rail, and blood of many flowed as one.
Josef Maier is an aspiring author from Fairbanks, Alaska. He is working towards a bachelors in both English and biology with hopes of eventually extending that into a MFA in English. He works jobs as a rock climbing instructor, substitute teacher, and ski lift operator while also attending classes at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. Forged In Blood is the first piece of fiction that he created outside of a classroom, and in turn will be his first published work.