500 x 50: Short Stories for a Fast World

Wrench-monkey Wisdom

"Listen," said the Chief. "You have to run before you can walk."

Meeks stood in the mech's cockpit, sweating beneath the layers of kevlar, nomex, and circuitry that comprised his pilot's suit. The suit recycled his sweat into his body, ensuring he would not become dehydrated during lengthy exercises.

The Chief held Meeks's helmet in his hands. He reached over the railing of his ready platform, positioned snugly alongside the cockpit, and snapped Meeks's helmet in place upon the boy's head.

"What do you mean?" asked Meeks, his soft voice echoing through the helmet's audio modulator. Meeks heard the Chief's response through his helmet's earpiece.

"Most pilots find running easier than walking," said the Chief.

The Chief began retracting his platform from its current sixty-foot height. He remembered when, as a six year old boy, he'd been scared to climb the high dive at the Elmoore pool. If only that boy could see him now, riding a million-dollar crane down out of the sky.

"Don't be timid," continued the Chief. "Run right out the gate and straight on to the training field. Otherwise, you'll trip yourself up inside the launch bay."

Today, of all days, Meeks did not want to be told what to do. He'd run navigation and combat simulations for months. He knew how to pilot this mech, both in the field and in the launch bay. He didn't need some old wrench-monkey telling him to run when he should walk.

Meeks cleared his throat, in an attempt to sound authoritative.

"I know what I'm doing," said Meeks. "Start the countdown."

"Alright," said the Chief.

With his index finger, the Chief brushed at the salt and pepper moustache he'd recently decided to grow back in. He wondered if the smooth-faced kid in the cockpit could even grow facial hair.

"Control, start the countdown."

A series of alarms sounded, and red lights flashed throughout the launch bay. Pistons and control cables snapped away from the mech's massive, humanoid body. The thing looked almost like a real armored warrior, instead of just another machine.

But the Chief had seen too many mechs come back damaged beyond belief, only to get repaired, to think of them as human anymore. Humans weren't as easy to put back together.

In the cockpit, Meeks flexed his shoulders and drew his arms back and forth. He planted his feet firmly upon the cockpit's glowing floor.

Control's voice sounded throughout the launch bay.

'5.'

'4.'

The mech's fusion engines silently spun up. The servos and motors that drove the machine's limbs began to whir. The cockpit closed, encasing Meeks, briefly, in darkness. Then, the heads-up display he'd familiarized himself with over the last months lit upon the wall in front of him.

'3.'

'2.'

'1.'

The launch bay doors opened, revealing the desert outside. Meeks began walking out the launch bay. Almost immediately, the mech floundered.

"Pour it on, boy!" yelled the Chief. "Get out that gate!"

Meeks heard the Chief's yell and ran, as instructed.