“~One, two, up!~”
I lift the steel cabinet on the count of three. Built to withstand anything, awfully heavy; enough so to require three human men to carry safely, even when emptied.
Three human men, or one me.
“~Aight, same spot as before, Geiger.~”
All I can manage is a rough grunt as I slowly inch by towards the workshop’s entrance, hoping I don’t inadvertently bump into anything. With how empty this place is by now, though, that’s hardly a concern anymore.
The steps of thick boots on metal echo through the facility as I push on, the ambience eerily quiet. Without the reactor’s hum, without the whirl of the turbines, it’s reduced to little more than lost, confused stragglers stumbling blindly around a massive building of steel and concrete; once the largest power plant on this side of Unova. Once, my home.
Technically, it still is. I just don’t know for how long it’ll remain so.
We got the news about immediate decommissioning a couple weeks ago; most everyone left taken aback, often with curses. That group didn’t include me only by the technicality of my mouth being really unsuited to vocalizing the chorus of ‘fuck’s, ‘bastard’s, ‘motherfucker’s, and a myriad of other, more intense swears.
Electivire are good at many things, but that list doesn’t extend to knowing how to enunciate our ‘k’s.
It didn’t take long after that for the guys to realize that decommissioning had much more severe implications for some of us than for others. I couldn’t ask directly, but I thought about writing my questions out and presenting them to the boss. I didn’t even need to do so; the guys asked for me plenty of times.
Boss only answered with silence.
I try not to think about it all. Trying and succeeding are two vastly different things, and I know that fact well. I wish I could say I’m succeeding at not thinking about it. I’m hardly unused to being left in the dark about everything, to things happening about me without my knowledge, but... guys here got better about this over the years. Substantially so. Much better than I thought some of them would ever be, growing up.
Guess even the crankiest of bastards start seeing you as a person if you bring them coffee enough times, ha.
Before I know it, I’m behind the building; standing idly in place with the piece of furniture still in my arms. The truck driver stares at me uncertainly, his expression one I’ve seen again and again. Confusion and intimidation in equal measure, the kind that leaves one’s head blooming with questions without being able to vocalize any of them.
I just sigh to myself and put the cabinet down. I’ll deal with it later.
Used to keep boss company most lunch breaks when he went out for a smoke, and returning to the building’s comfort was always the best part of it. The air doesn’t get any warmer as I step in, the familiar industrial warmth absent. Expected, really.
Carcasses aren’t known for being too warm.
Shaking the thought aside, I lumber over back into the workshop, eying out the next cabinet to haul out. Before I get more than a couple of steps in, though, a voice catches my attention, “~Geiger, boss wants to—to speak with you.~”
I’ve known this man for twenty years and never have I heard his voice crack like this. My breath wavers as I turn towards him and nod, his gaze jumping back to me in concern a few times as he walks off to help with carrying furniture out. Guess my fate is decided.
My steps are slow as I climb the stairs up to the boss’s office, the rugged metal croaking underneath me with every step. There’s some comfort in the promise of finality, that no matter what, this will finally be it. Some. The rest is even more fear, fear I’ve grown increasingly unfamiliar with. A fire, a criticality incident, a wildling attack, even a terrorist operation—these are threats, these are scenarios, these are things one can prepare for and practice. And practice we did, again and again, the drills boring as grime but no less necessary as a result, and treated no less seriously.
There are no drills for this.
At last, I stand before the door to the boss’s office, gaze level with the metal name plate. Boss has a name, everyone does, even me; but his doesn’t matter. He’s been ‘boss’ for as long as I remember him, and ‘boss’ he’ll remain until the day either of us kicks the bucket. He speaks up before I can even get my second knock in, “~Come in, Geiger.~”
My body only barely fits through the door frame, tails wrapped around my upper arms to avoid incidentally scorching anything they brush by. Boss is busy doing the unthinkable—sitting at his desk, the office chair looking pristine. In front of him, more papers out at once than I’ve seen him handle in the span of a week.
He doesn’t look at me initially, eyes shuffling from one document to the next. Eventually, he sighs and stands up, the silver of his sizable beard the only hair remaining on his head. “~I’m... I’m sorry, Geiger.~”
I raise my eyebrow with a quiet grumble, unsure what he means. The situation is a mess, but, to the best of my knowledge, it blindsided him as much as everyone else here.
“~I know you’ve been curious about what’s gonna happen to you now, and the answers haven’t exactly been... forthcoming. And that’s on me. I’ve been... looking into things and gotten jack shit for it,~” he elaborates. It makes some sense but hardly tons, and he knows it. Guy taught me half the swears I know and there he is, lost at words, grumbling into his hand and stroking his beard. “~Let me be straight with you, Geiger. According to the procedure the higher-ups sent, I’m supposed to stuff you back into your ball, lock it tight, and ship you over to the new place you’d be working at. A plant on the other end of Unova, near Undella. Entirely different staff, it’d be all strangers. I... was absent last week because I flew over to talk to them in person.~”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
One hand grips the edge of his desk, sunken eyes barely avoid narrowing.
“~They’re... fine men. Nothing wrong with them as workers from what I gathered. I brought up the subject of you, tried to... get a feel for how they are,~” he mutters. His gaze finally focuses on me, a tense expression conveying the truth before he even opens his mouth, “~It ain’t pretty. Could be just a bad first impression, but... reminds me of how we were when you were assigned to us way back when.~”
His attention slides down onto the floor again, the web of wrinkles twisting in regret. I’m of half a mind to come over and pat his shoulder, but hold myself back—he ain’t done yet, and hates being interrupted.
“~I’d rather spare you all that again. I... asked around. Everyone I could get my hands on. Whether there’s anything else that could happen to you, some other... outcome. Tried bringing other assignments, not in the field, maybe some other place that I could try to scout out, hell I even brought up taking you in myself for retirement—nothing. Course nothing... fucking, ‘company property’, say that to his fucking face you suited up cocksuckers...~”
The frustrated grumbles are more so boss’ style, as is the impotent bang on the metal desk that follows. As much as the option of him just out and adopting me took me aback, I don’t have too long to linger on it before he turns around and walks over to one of the drawers. He finds what he’s looking for instantly, but takes a while actually pulling it out, other hand clenching into a fist.
Outer shell made of stainless steel instead of the usual plastic, painted with red and white stripes, standard innards. Last time I’ve seen it was a few months ago for the annual health checkup; otherwise, he keeps it hidden behind piles of loathed paperwork. Alas, not anymore.
“~I’m... I’m sorry, Geiger. I wish there was another way.~”
I close my eyes and bow my head, bracing for the briefest instant of warm tingles before the device contains me. There’s no point in fighting it, I’m well aware. Either I get hurt, or the men in here get hurt; there just ain’t any other forward. Not in this world—
*tap tap*
My eyes snap open at feeling metal bump my forearm, then shoot wide at seeing just what it is. Boss’s arm is outstretched towards me; the ball rests on top of his palm. Ready to be grasped.
“~These fucking bastards may think they own you, but hell no, they don’t. Not if I have anything to say,~” he mutters. I stare, dumbstruck, gaze jumping back and forth between the ball and his expression, smirking and serious in equal measure. He nods at me as I eye the offering, all the implications surging through my head. “~The least I can do to make up for how we used to treat you, Geiger.~”
I can only weakly nod at that remark, the shock of it all still taking its time to finish spinning all the gears in my mind. The offer is too outlandish to respond to, especially once I consider all the consequences. Consequences which the boss has also thought about, some of his smile deflating as he speaks up again, “~I... I know it’s not exactly an easy decision. No matter how nasty the other guys would be towards you, it’d still be three hots and a cot, as opposed to whatever the wilds throw at you if you were to leave on your own terms. It’s up to you in the end, Geiger. In either case, I understand. Freedom’s call is beautiful and all that jazz, but most choose stability for a dang good reason. And they’re not the ones having to stare down at being out there in the wild by themselves.~”
He slowly retracts his arm as he speaks, eyes sticking to the floor again. I try to give it some thought, though before I can get too deep in, he speaks up again, “~I went to the library last night to look at one of those dexes—you fucking know it’s important if it makes me go to the fucking library, ha!~”
The moment of levity comes out of nowhere but is even more appreciated as a result; our combined laughter echoes through the increasingly decrepit building, relieving some of the pent up tension. I catch boss’ eyes being wet by the end, though whether he’s on the brink of tears of amusement or sadness I can’t tell. “~But, yeah. Looked up stuff about Electivire, and wild mons that live nearby. Couldn’t find anything that would pose much of a threat to you—you’re fucking strong and you know it, Geiger. You’ll be fine out there, I’m sure of it, though of course it’s gonna pale comfort wise. Again, It’s up to you in the end.~”
As I consider it, an unnerving detail comes to mind, one finger straightening out to point straight at him.
“~Me? Oh, they’ll absolutely come down on my ass for ‘losing’ you. And you know what? Fucking let them. Didn’t spend twelve fucking years being a tool in the army and thirty more being a tool here to not at least try to do some actual fucking good for once in my life. I’ll be fine, Geiger. I’m the last fucking person you should be worrying about.~”
I raise my eyebrow at that last remark, taking him aback a bit. Of course I’m gonna worry about him; he’s the closest thing I’ve had to a parent in here, even if it took him most of the decade to really start filling those shoes in.
“~I mean it, Geiger. I’ll get disciplined, get the book thrown at me, maybe sued for damages in the worst case—I don’t give a shit; I retire next year. I’m willing to tolerate a bit of discomfort if it means you’ll find some actual happiness in your one life, Geiger,~” he pauses and rolls his shoulders, before reaching out the ball towards me again. “~You deserve it.~”
The offer is nigh impossible to fully think through its implications. This place is all I’ve ever known, a cage gilded with oil, cigs and an occasional bit of booze. Not freedom, nowhere near to it, even after thirty years of people growing to think of me as their equal. I’m not, never could be, never will be. Not while remaining in this system.
Who is to say that I’ll find any joy on my own? Any safety? Strength is one thing, but it only accounts for so much, especially with my outdoorsman skills so lacking. Though... suppose the worst-case scenario, I can just ‘turn myself in’, and eventually end up back where I would’ve already been. Or not. Maybe they’d think me too dangerous to be let loose by then. There’s just... no way to know, is there?
There are no drills for life.
And yet, once it comes knocking, we gotta act all the same.
With a shaky hand, I grab the painted-over ball, the trinket near weightless in my grasp. Just metal, plastic, and some electronics. Tiny thing, nearly weightless, but still powerful beyond words, beyond anything moral.
I look up at the boss. He’s smiling at me, tension leaving his weathered face with each breath.
“~It’s been a pleasure knowing you, Geiger. I hope that, no matter what, you’ll find happiness somewhere in this cruel fucking world. Alright, let me sneak into storage, grab you some rations and whichever other gear, and lead you out—~” he pauses as I shake my head, usually narrowed eyes widening in confusion. The look only intensifies as I walk forward a step and place the ball down at his desk, his mouth open and about ready to speak, before I point one finger at the clock mounted on the wall. He asks, “~What? Yeah, the clock will go down too, but—~”
An idea strikes him and he breaks out into old, croaky laughter, growing in strength until he can’t resist slapping his thigh and pointing at me in an accusatory way. His gesture buckles under his amusement soon after and he continues, “~I see, I fucking see. Shift’s not over yet, eh? Aight then!~”
He turns around and grabs a printout on his desk; his pencil whizzing across the page as the items are checked off the list.
“~Done, done, done, secure the standard issue industrial Poke Ball with yadda yadda shut the fuck up. There, ‘item lost’. What next... right, gotta dismantle all the utilities in the canteen. Ready for that, Geiger?~”
I nod and grin, rolling my shoulders as I turn around and head for the door.
“~That’s what I wanna see. Let’s get a move on—there’s work to be done, after all.~”