Blue (Short Story)

Based on a dream that I had that took place in a factory that was producing synthetic animals from moulds and machinery

(Warning, contains two cases of explicit language)

‘And for the last time fix that front f****n door, this is meant to be a secure facility and the locks been broken for two months!’

‘Yes, right… right away Mr.Stephens’

‘Honestly, if I come back and it’s still broken, I’ll put you into a mould and the artists will be carving you out on their fickity f*****g machines’ snarled Stephens deep into his victims ears.

  

Mr. Stephens released Wades shoulders, dropping him back down to the floor, where he stood for a second with his tail between his legs before waddling away. Stephens readjusted his fedora over his bushy grey eyebrows, sheltering his crooked nose. He walked the floor of his factory, surrounded by his own creations he felt a sense of accomplishment. High strength plastic moulds stacked, state of the art 3-D printing machines, anatomical skeletons, a leaky tap.

 

‘AND CALL THE F*****G PLUMBER!’ echoed his raspy voice across the little factory, making its was round and back to him.’

Yuri was the artists leader and one of the very few who spoke confidently to Stephens, without the whimpering terror others usually display in his company, despite the fact he was both shorter and thinner in stature. Hailing from North Korea he defected alongside his parents at the age of eight and had lived in the states for all his life. He had a scar on his right cheek from the time he got into a bar fight and somebody took a bottle to him. He met Stephens in the centre of the factory, bowing to him, and leading him invitingly. 

‘We’ve really come on leaps and bounds, and today, I have something I really think will impress you Mr. Stephens, it shows not just what can be achieved, but the sheer potential of this project’. Yuri swiftly swiped his card on the reader to the right of the airlocked door, which bore a sign reading ‘testing room’, stepping in and handing Stephens some glasses. He checked them, almost as if they weren’t good enough to be placed among his face, didn’t say anything and handed them back. Yuri conceded with a smile, and held the door open for Stephens. The room was a large box, 30 feet each way, with a thick piece of glass and plastic hybrid splitting it down the middle. Drab cement, no windows, basic long warehouse lights, one of them blinks. On the opposite side of glass where Stephens and Yuri stood was a single plastic mould. A tortoise. A Galapagos island tortoise.

 

‘Now at first we thought it was the speed of the booting process that was causing problems with the subjects, causing them to break, fracture, etcetera’ Yuri fiddled with a tablet, which Stephens gave a disgusted smirk then refocused on the subject. ‘We simply needed a lighter material, this mould has been made out of silica nanofibers, with some slight modifications, for the sake of this experiment we are calling it SN3, it has worked on smaller animals, bugs, flies, bees, but as you know an animal of this size and weight will be different. Are you ready Mr. Stephens?’

Stephens lowered his fedora slightly, lit a cigarette and nodded. All the lights in the room turned off at the command of Yuri’s voice, except for one, focused in a spotlight fashion on the tortoise. Yuri laid the tablet down on the floor with an irregular ease, typed in his identification code, and pressed ‘Begin’. Nothing but silence and smoke filled the room, Yuri stood with his arm crossed whilst Stephens toked on his cigarette. Nothing had happened for a solid 30 seconds now, Yuri had started nervously tapping his forearm 15 ago. Then, slowly, the mould raised from the floor, it reached about half a foot, then Mr Stephens ducked down, trying to avoid the loud cracking sound that dispersed into the room from the mould. A thick line had formed down the middle of the mould and underneath the mould, four feet had come into view. No texture, no roughness, pure blue plastic. What was a single crack now had roots dispersing from it reaching out the sides and down to edges of the mould. A waste of a good cigarette fell between Stephens shoes, sending ash up his trouser leg, jaw open, shimmering eyes, he watched on, Yuri held a proud a gaze, arms still crossed but the tapping had ceased. The subject swayed, trying to find their way in a field of darkness, before a shattering of plastic sent a tear rolling down Stephens left cheek. The mould had come apart, and before the two stood a blue Galapagos Tortoise. Pure blue, plastic, no texture, no roughness, no expressions, no shading. A pure blue shell, pure blue eyes, pure blue legs. Wandering towards the glass cautiously, it looked for its meaning.

‘This, Mr Stephens, is the first animal bigger than a hedgehog that has officially completed the booting process. It lacks the emotional and biological nature of a normal Galapagos Tortoise, but in all other ways, shape, movement,sound, its exactly the same.’

Stephens stood star struck, the tortoise rubbed its head against the glass ahead of Stephens, directly in front of his proud dad at his sons first game glance. 

’12 years Yuri, 12 years. How long will it take to execute textures?’ he turned to Yuri, ridding the tears on his cheek with a handkerchief, relieved of its cramped resting duty in his pocket.

‘I’d keep that handkerchief out if I were you sir.’ 

Yuri commanded, turning the lights back on, sending the tortoise into a confused state as it had only seen a relatively small amount of light in its life. Yuri knelt to the tablet, unlocking it and typing in his identification code.

‘Okay, this is gonna hurt a little buddy, sorry’ he said out the corner of his mouth. The tortoise staggered again, so soon after he had regained control of his body. Light electrical snaps filled the air around the tortoise, the ringing ears of Stephens caused his neck to jerk to one side, re-enacting his mothers telephone skills. The surface of the tortoise flickered, a VHS fuzz came over it, then with a final snapping sound it was brought to life. Deep lines, curves, a solid jaw, neck wrinkles, hexagonal shapes upon the shell. Stephens stood in disbelief, not only was this his sons first game but he just hit a home run and Stephens has dropped his beer. 

’12 years Yuri. How many people know of these advances, I’m trusting only you?’

‘Just me Sir.’

‘Okay. Test it again. Refine it. Gather the investors for next week. Thank you Yuri. Please don’t offer me glasses in my own facility again.’ 

Stephens stepped back into the main factory. A young female artist sat carving a lion on her tablet, adjusting the mould. The air Stephens walked in was enough to choke most, so much so the artists wouldn’t have to look up to be aware of his presence, they simply felt it. Stepping towards her, sliding next to her, he gazed upon her work, almost causing her to freeze, but hands now jittery she continued. 

‘Good’ he nodded his head. 

‘Tell me…’ he began, checking the her name on her tablet after assertively adjusting his glasses ‘Mia. What do you think of the work being done here?’ Never before had Stephens spoken to an artist, they were seen simply as labourers, the same way some CEO’s don’t speak to the janitor, Stephens never spoke to the artists.

‘I think its state of the art, we’re essentially cloning using simple moulds and few basic electrics. Given what we’re using, the results, if you don’t mind me saying sir, really astound me.’ Her nerves were given away by her shaky hand but she spoke with the confidence of a higher level worker. 

‘Tell me, can the subjects feel pain?’

‘They’re not programmed to no sir, they can be damaged, sure. If you shot one the bullet would go through it and it may affect how it works, but pain, as in the literal emotion, not at all. They react to things like light and sounds but not to things, for example, that are too hot.’

‘Perfect.’

Author's Note

My grammar isn't great so I'm happy to take pointers, looking for advice on writing style and just general opinions on story and description