A note from the editors: During the ongoing crisis we will be sharing art, stories and poetry on our website from Locust Review editors and contributors. These will be collected under the rubric “Locust Dispatches.” Issue #2 is back from the printers and we are in the process of mailing them out right now. As noted before, there may be a slight delay as we are, for the first time, printing our own postage as part of the overall effort toward social distancing. Below is Tish Markley’s oddcpl Episode Two: Hard Reset. Episode One appeared last week.
Foreman Tom blew out a puff of cigar smoke over his glass of St. Eligius bourbon. He glanced towards the sudden glow as The Steel Bar’s door opened. Eric, from Packing, pulled up a barstool next to his boss. He locked his hips into the special seat and magnetized his feet to the rail below.
KARL and Dave exchanged a look over their beers as they listened from their table in the corner.
“Here we go.” KARL sighed quietly, leaning back in his chair.
Eric ordered a whiskey to match the boss.
Dave rolled his eyes.
“You hear about Terry?” Tom asked Eric.
Eric shook his head. He finished his whiskey in one gulp and ignored Tom’s click of distaste.
“Terry got into an argument with the new loading crane.” Tom’s face screen glitched when he smirked. He tapped the side of his head to clear the black bars around his mouth.
Eric’s eyes bugged out as he processed the gossip. “Walter?”
Tom nodded.
“The fuck happened?” Eric demanded. “Walter wouldn’t say boo to a goose, far as I can tell.”
“Terry was putting up those signs about our right to work and Walter just hauled off and clocked his head clean off. Said he didn’t need bosses telling him his rights.”
Dave and KARL exchanged another look as they drained their drinks. Dave nodded towards the door just across from them but KARL shook his head, signaling he wanted to hear more.
“What did they do to him?” Eric asked in a hushed voice.
Tom took a long drink and sat his glass on the bar. He cleared his throat and swished the ice cubes around gently. “Arrested him.”
Eric waited for more, mouth gaping to show the busted steel teeth inside.
“They’re doing a Hard Reset tomorrow, I heard.”
Dave waved for the tab. KARL nodded towards the door.
“We need to go.” Dave whispered and tossed a handful of crumpled bills on the table.
They left the bar in a quiet rush and ducked down alleys until they reached the Poll Robot Administrative District - PRAD Square. Once they’d rounded The H/R Building at its edge, they saw the crowds around the Reset Pavilion Stage. Guards were suppressing angry robots and cyborgs as they tried to push closer.
Walter Crane, arms behind his back, was writhing on the Magnet Bed, trying to escape.
Dave stopped KARL from rushing forward.
“We’ll never get close enough.”
KARL pulled Dave into a rumbling crowd that was forming opposite a growing line of human police. The two of them disappeared into the steel and flesh mass.
KARL felt a magnetic claw grab his chest even before he saw Jazz in the crowd. The three of them turned towards the stage as Reset Guards switched the magnet on. The crowd hushed as the buzz/hum grew louder.
A red light switched on. KARL pushed ahead of Jazz, taking her claw in his hand so they wouldn’t get separated. The light turned green just as they reached the stage. The guards pushed forward to hold back the crowd.
Walter shrieked and seized, thrashing hard. Then suddenly, the buzz/hum stopped and he crumpled into a pile.
A weak, collective growl rippled from the front of the crowd to the back. KARL couldn’t see Dave anymore. The noise of the crowd was choked out as the guards pushed forward.
Jazz tugged at KARL’s waist.
“KARL?” She asked in a small voice. “Holy shit, he’s fucking dead.”
KARL wrapped his arm around her. He searched the dispersing crowd and spotted Dave, fists clenched, staring at Walter’s body.
They walked toward Dave.
“We have to do something…” KARL trailed off and looked back to Jazz for comfort.
She pushed in closer under his arm.
Dave broke the silence. “Let’s burn down the H/R Building.”
They watched the police robots gather Walter so he could be reclaimed and reintegrated.
“It’s not enough.” Jazz sighed. “We need burn all of PRAD Square.”
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