This is the first fiction I've written. I'm aware it could use some work and I would love your help figuring out what needs attention, what I did well/can improve on, what you're excited to read more about, etc. Any critiques would be helpful and I'm more than happy to read yours and offer comments/reviews as well. I'll never rate anything I read less than 5 stars and if I have criticism it will be constructive and in a comment.
I wish I could say that getting cryogenically frozen for 200 years wasn't embarrassing. I wish that I could say that emerging from a frozen slumber to find myself in a world unburdened by my past was exactly what I was looking for. That the clean slate I had wanted all along fell into my lap and I was thrilled. That's difficult when it's because some high school punks shoved you into an industrial orange marmalade ice cream vat. It's even harder when your day job changes from security guard to viral survivor of cyberpunk squid games. The star of #getGramps for short.
It was a day like any other. Or rather a night like any other. I was a security guard at an ice cream factory and was slacking off using the offices industrial printer to print off D&D novels that I couldn't afford on my crappy salary. At least not until my injury claim came in from my last job. It was my small way of getting back at corporate America. Ink costs a fortune. Normally I would start the night making my rounds, scanning the RFID checkpoints to log that I was checking the designated spots within time parameters my superiors expected. I had figured out early on though, that I was able to duplicate the RFID tags easily with some I ordered online. So once the first few rounds were seen on camera and after everyone else had left, I would hang out in the lounge by the printer and read whatever D&D novel I had just printed off, pausing every minute to scan the RFID tags I kept in employee badge casings on a key ring I had swiped from supplies. On this particular day, I felt like mixing things up a bit. I had posted up in the cctv room to finish a Drizzt novel I had printed off the other night and had my feet kicked up in front of the monitors. I looked up from my book to scan one of the RFID tags and caught a flicker of motion from one of the monitors.
"What the fuck?"
Who would be here at 2 a.m.? There it is again. Three high school aged kids crept across the screen with one in front waving the others along.
Shit shit shit.
My timer went off again, indicating I had to scan the next RFID tag. I quickly realized my only hope at keeping my job would be to keep scanning the tags in the proper order while I chased them off. If I could catch up to them enough to scare them off while I was scanning my RFID tags, then I would be able to avoid my boss needing to look back at any security footage to see why there was a gap in my scan times. My timer went off and I scanned the RFID tag labeled "hallway 4". Glancing at the monitors I could see the kids making their way down hallway 2. Goddammit why couldn't they have kept straight.
I jumped up and ran out of the cctv room, only pausing long enough to holster my scanner. I quickly ran through the factory, pausing twice to scan each tag as I went, hoping that I was staying ahead of the kids. As I rounded a corner, I saw the door to the industrial ice cream mixers swing shut.
"Hey get back here! It's dangerous in there!"
Concern for my job was forgotten as I thought of the machinery that ran all night below the rickety catwalk. The company had faced multiple lawsuits for unsafe labour practices and there was no chance a group of scared teenagers cared about safety when they were running from ‘the man’. I heard rapid clanging on catwalk grating from the other side of the door. Without thinking, I burst through the door and started chasing after them.The ice cream machines stretched longer than a football field and were spaced every 20-30 feet. The machines ran 24/7, so the room was completely dark with the exception of the floodlights under each stack of machines. The catwalk was a series of grated metal plates so that the workers could easily get from machine to machine.
"I won't get you into trouble, but it's dangerous in here!" I had to scream to be heard.
The punks had reached the junction of the catwalk where it split off right left and center and they jumped at the sound of my voice which rang out above the din of the machinery.
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"I promise you're not in trouble!"
Four little shitheads cocked to the side like confused dogs at the reassurance that they weren't in trouble.
"I don't give a shit, but if you don't leave I'll lose my job!"
I watched as the tension in their postures began to slowly ease. Hope restored, I continued.
"Look if you let me walk you out, I won't call the-" My timer was going off. I hadn't heard it over the machinery. The tune was further along than I had let it go before. Panicked, I reached to the holster where I kept my scanner. Time slowed as I realized how I looked moving my right leg back and crouching a little while I brushed aside my jacket to reach for the holster at my right hip. Unable to help myself, I glanced up at the kids to see their reaction. As if I was getting ready to sight them.
The little shithead in the middle no longer cocked his head to the side. His eyes went wide.
"HE'S GOT A GUN!"
The other three kids cursed jumped and scattered.
I cursed under my breath, and fumbled through my key ring of RFID tags almost dropping it twice. I shakily futzed with my scanner, watching as the four little shits split up and sprinted down the different catwalks. I finally flipped to the tag I needed, scanned it, and took off after the jackass who had yelled out. He was fast, but I was determined and angry enough to ignore the throbbing in my left ankle. Plus I was worried the little bastard would get hurt. I chased him through the dimly lit bay, my boots pounding against the metal catwalk. He was far ahead of me, sprinting full-tilt towards the other side. I could hear his footsteps and a few curses as I caught up to him. Ahead, I could hear the roar of the mixing bay machines, a pulsing beat that seemed to urge me on. The air whipped my face, with the occasional burst of noise echoing from the mixing bay below. The air felt icy and my breath froze in front of me with each exhale.
Finally, I caught up to him and grabbed him by his shirt collar. He screamed as he tried to push me away and wriggle out of my grip, but I held on. Maybe this pimple ridden punk was the ringleader and could convince the others to back down. Breathing heavily to catch my breath, I looked into his face and saw someone who could easily have been me 10 years ago. I sighed as he struggled against my grip.
"Look, I was serious I won't get you in trouble if you let me take you and your friends to the exit."
I was met once again with the confused dog look.
"I lose my job if you guys get caught."
Back to normal scared teenager.
"I don't want to call the cops,"
I slowly released my grip of shitstain 1, brushed off his shoulders, and leaned against the railing above the 100 year-orange-marmalade™ vat. Gross. I spat off the side.
"Tell your friends to come with me, and I'll-OOOF"
Time crystalized in the air in front of me. I watched my breath fog, leaking out of me like all the hope I had of getting out of this mess and dissipating into nothingness. Not like groveling to some teenager for my job was exactly an airtight plan in the first place.
I tumbled and turned in the air to see another teenager grabbing at his friend I had been talking to. The teenager's friend that snuck behind me who must have shoved me over the railing. Shitstain 1's eyes wide with fear and confusion as he watched me fall.
It’s funny what goes through your head while you’re experiencing your doom in real time. The thought of my former coworkers I let down after trying to unionize them at my old job. My boss's face when I would have to to explain how a 1000 gallon batch of bad ice cream got ruined because of some teenagers breaking into his factory. Shame that I pleaded with a teenager for my job before ruining said 1000 gallon batch of bad ice cream and would STILL get fired, this time for just cause.
The air around me felt even colder than before, a chill that went deeper than what could be caused by temperature alone. In this moment suspended between life and death, it seemed like an eternity until finally I hit the orange goop below with an almighty splash. I opened my mouth to scream, but sugary citrus sludge rushed in numbing my mouth. It flooded my lungs and before I could even cough, what felt like a gallon of the stuff entered my stomach. I was choking, drowning, and doing my best to vomit the disgusting sludge that had been forced down my throat all at once. Probably would've tasted better if I had vomited.
I couldn't think, except to wonder who on earth had thought this flavor was a good idea. I could barely breath as I began to struggle against the thick sludge. I felt the orange goop fill my shoes, flood my socks, and creep up my pants. I tried to move but my limbs were trapped by the thick liquid. The vat churned with the mixer and I had a chance to see the four little punks sprinting as quick as they could to get away.
It hit me. I was going to die. I was going to die in a barrel of ice cream and be found in the morning by the night crew. I tried to scream for help, but I could feel my entire body responding more slowly as numbness seeped its' way deeper into my muscles and bones. I was sinking. My vision began to blacken from the edges, preceded just barely by an orange tint. I gave in. My body racked as a final feeble contraction passed through me, protesting defeat one last time. Everything went black and I would have sighed from the relief of letting go if I had the breath for it. Death would feel warmer than I felt now. I could've smiled.