rushed upward with a thunderous explosion and a blinding flash of light, pulling his flesh back from his muscles, his muscles back from his bones as it rose higher and higher, faster and faster – impossibly fast; a spherical metal capsule speeding up through a vertical metal tube like a giant bullet through the barrel of a 300 story gun, with Albert trapped inside.
FOOMP!
The capsule exploded into the sky -- that glorious blue sky that Albert hadn’t seen in decades. Digging his fingers into the arms of his chair and screaming himself hoarse, he watched through the porthole as the vast concrete landscape of the roof stretched out in all directions below him, dotted with mammoth-sized air ventilators and the sad, patchwork constructions of exiled Roofers. The dark gray sphere of the world faded into the distance, growing smaller and smaller until the blackness of space surrounded him, sprinkled with tiny white stars. He vomited. Then he passed out.
****
The Sergeant sat stiff and upright in her chair, her head flung awkwardly back against the headrest, her eyes gazing up at the array of tiny monitors, displaying its small slice of the world in various unsatisfying shades of green. Behind her, she heard the “swoosh” of the automatic door, and the approaching uneven clopping of painful footfalls against vinyl.
The Sergeant’s lips moved. “Look at them.”
“What about ‘em?” Officer Travis’ tone was level and distant.
“They don’t even know we’re watching.”
“You kicked me in the balls, Sarge.”
“You should have worn your protector.” Travis could only see the top of the Sergeant’s head above the seat, but he imagined there was a look of immense satisfaction on her face. There wasn’t. Her face was empty.
“I did. You kicked me hard.”
“You should have been ready for it.” She shook her head. “You men are a real mystery – you spend all day thinking with your balls, but can’t be bothered for five seconds to protect them properly. You’re like turtles strolling through the wilderness without their shells on; how did you ever manage to evolve this far?”
“Speaking of our continued struggle for existence,” said Travis. “Officer Wadsworth’s gonna be okay. But his dentist says thank you .”
“Who?”
“Wadsworth! That sorry piece of meat you left back there on the mat.” There was an edge to his voice now. “What do you care anyway?” he growled. “You get a big thrill outta bullying people that are weaker than you, don’t you? Shaming them onto the mat and then taking them down, just to show off how mean you are? Well, lemme tell ya somethin’, Sarge. You’re mean. You’re real mean, okay? You’re just about the meanest person I know.”
“Sorry”, she whispered softly.
The response took Travis by surprise. His heart turned to playdough. “Awww, hell, Sarge. Don’t sweat it. The pressure gets to all of us now and --.”
She cut him off. “No. I mean, I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening to you … I’m watching the monitors.”
Travis felt his various parts coming unglued. He puffed out his stomach, ready to commit entirely to the final mad, raging monologue of his career and possibly his life. Then, as if someone had suddenly thrust a pin between his ribs, the oxygen hissed out of him. His tone was pure defeat.
“Anybody look like they’re gonna rip something off?”
The Sergeant ignored the question. “Look at them”, she muttered, her eyes sparkling in the dull light of the screens. “What keeps them in line?”
Travis searched the monitors overhead. She could have been talking about any one of the thousands of screens filled with sluggish mid-afternoon shoppers, standing in mute obedience, waiting for a turn to hand over their money. He shrugged.
“I dunno. Us, I guess. Gotta pay for what ya take,
FOOMP!
The capsule exploded into the sky -- that glorious blue sky that Albert hadn’t seen in decades. Digging his fingers into the arms of his chair and screaming himself hoarse, he watched through the porthole as the vast concrete landscape of the roof stretched out in all directions below him, dotted with mammoth-sized air ventilators and the sad, patchwork constructions of exiled Roofers. The dark gray sphere of the world faded into the distance, growing smaller and smaller until the blackness of space surrounded him, sprinkled with tiny white stars. He vomited. Then he passed out.
****
The Sergeant sat stiff and upright in her chair, her head flung awkwardly back against the headrest, her eyes gazing up at the array of tiny monitors, displaying its small slice of the world in various unsatisfying shades of green. Behind her, she heard the “swoosh” of the automatic door, and the approaching uneven clopping of painful footfalls against vinyl.
The Sergeant’s lips moved. “Look at them.”
“What about ‘em?” Officer Travis’ tone was level and distant.
“They don’t even know we’re watching.”
“You kicked me in the balls, Sarge.”
“You should have worn your protector.” Travis could only see the top of the Sergeant’s head above the seat, but he imagined there was a look of immense satisfaction on her face. There wasn’t. Her face was empty.
“I did. You kicked me hard.”
“You should have been ready for it.” She shook her head. “You men are a real mystery – you spend all day thinking with your balls, but can’t be bothered for five seconds to protect them properly. You’re like turtles strolling through the wilderness without their shells on; how did you ever manage to evolve this far?”
“Speaking of our continued struggle for existence,” said Travis. “Officer Wadsworth’s gonna be okay. But his dentist says thank you .”
“Who?”
“Wadsworth! That sorry piece of meat you left back there on the mat.” There was an edge to his voice now. “What do you care anyway?” he growled. “You get a big thrill outta bullying people that are weaker than you, don’t you? Shaming them onto the mat and then taking them down, just to show off how mean you are? Well, lemme tell ya somethin’, Sarge. You’re mean. You’re real mean, okay? You’re just about the meanest person I know.”
“Sorry”, she whispered softly.
The response took Travis by surprise. His heart turned to playdough. “Awww, hell, Sarge. Don’t sweat it. The pressure gets to all of us now and --.”
She cut him off. “No. I mean, I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening to you … I’m watching the monitors.”
Travis felt his various parts coming unglued. He puffed out his stomach, ready to commit entirely to the final mad, raging monologue of his career and possibly his life. Then, as if someone had suddenly thrust a pin between his ribs, the oxygen hissed out of him. His tone was pure defeat.
“Anybody look like they’re gonna rip something off?”
The Sergeant ignored the question. “Look at them”, she muttered, her eyes sparkling in the dull light of the screens. “What keeps them in line?”
Travis searched the monitors overhead. She could have been talking about any one of the thousands of screens filled with sluggish mid-afternoon shoppers, standing in mute obedience, waiting for a turn to hand over their money. He shrugged.
“I dunno. Us, I guess. Gotta pay for what ya take,
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