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The Engineer disassembles crystal radios, a Winchester .22 rifle, an old printing press—extractor, platen, copper wire, firing pin, galena cathode, iron chase.
He has a map in his head of the machines as they are and of how they could be. It is this second map that calls him on, beckoning to him–“Come and get it.” It is a holler in fact, a holler that claws at his bones and mashes up his soul like potatoes. It leads him to build better rockets.
He drew a picture when he was a kid of a horse-drawn spaceship. The horses became boosters burning ammonium perchlorate, aluminum, iron oxide, Hydroxyl-terminated polybutadiene. Then the titan, a magnetically-driven fusion rocket, imploding around lithium plasmoids, fountaining hot ionized metal into the far reaches of space. Then he drew dragons and called it quits.
–Excerpt from my last story written at the 2015 Clarion West Workshop.
|What I Write||
Stories that stab your heart with a fork and feed it to you while making amusing train noises.
A piece of raw, freshly-unearthed flash thrown up everyday on my blog at http://garretjohnston.net. Also, Friday reads for subscribers to my email list.