Descent

I see a faint shape in the darkness. Its moving parts seem to have their own rhythm, yet they seem to belong together.

I’m one of the lucky ones. All the other girls from high school are “happily” married — their homes brimming with kids, hot chocolate, Christmas parties, and singalongs. But under that cozy exterior, each one of those women is miserable. I can see it in their vapid expressions — foolish grins beset with dull eyes. I, on the other hand, have everything I need — and I don’t have to answer to anyone. As long as I show up at 9 and get my work done by 5, I’ve got it made. No one bothers me. They know I don’t need any help. I go about my business every day without a hitch.

Like clockwork, I punch my timecard, work until lunch, sit at the lunchroom with a book and a sandwich, and resume my work until closing time. Every so often, the lunchtime chatter tries to compete for my attention, but my book always wins.

Yes, reading can take me to places far more interesting than anything I would ever go in real life. But reading is just a diversion to keep the pests away. My true love? Numbers. Perfect, rational, whole, abundant, real…

I work with numbers at a Robinson Industries, which means I’m a computer. Using one of the newest calculators, I compute. No one makes a decision without looking at my results first. Without me, the chain would be broken. Yes, there are other computers at Robinson, but I’m the only one who understands. I’m special.

Everything began to change a few weeks ago. Something big happened. A new arrival. A mechanical computer — a machine so large that the basement had to be opened up to house it, spanning the entire floor.

I was chosen to send my calculations down to the basement. After placing my punch card into a metal cylinder, the pneumatic tube system whisked it down — where the mechanical computer would read it. Soon afterward, “whoosh”: The same metal cylinder would return to me, with a response inside it. Sometimes it would be an acknowledgement that my calculation was correct; at other times, it would give me its own numerical answer. I was overjoyed. I had finally found another being that could speak my language — communicating in a way that I could understand.

People started noticing — paying attention to me. I didn’t want to be bothered. They should have left me alone. Those chatterers in the lunchroom started whispering — as if I would care to listen to them. One of them tried to patronize me one day — placing her clammy hand on mine, which was holding my book. I flinched and brought the book closer to my face — peering over the book for a brief moment. She never bothered me again.

It was just a fortnight ago when my exchange with the all-powerful machine in the basement took a new turn. When I opened the metal cylinder, I saw a series of ones and zeroes — binary code. I decoded it and realized that this machine was not only computing: It was courting me. Its messages read like poetry. It asked me to join it. In fact, it begged me. I never knew what it was like to be truly wanted … until now.

I don’t have much time left. The clock is ticking. It’s almost closing time. It’s calling to me from the basement. I can hear its rhythmic whirring — pulsating to its own internal beat. If I don’t go to the basement now, someone will find me and escort me out of the building. Every second that passes by drains me. I don’t know how long I can stay here… Or how long I will stay the same.

As this world begins to fade again, I step out of that cold room and into the dark hallway leading to a swirling staircase. I’m at the very top of the stairs.

Looking over the edge, I can’t fathom how many floors are here to descend. Shall I begin? I start by taking one step — allowing myself to leave everything that has kept me together. It would be so easy to just relax and fall — one final time. My legs feel like cement. I can hardly lift them — but there’s no need for that. I can easily slide down these stairs. The momentum will carry me. There’s a chill running down my spine, but it feels refreshing. If I just let my leg float out in front of me, where will I land? Certainly not at the bottom — not yet. Whatever is waiting for me down there wants me in one piece.

The darkness ahead is immense, yet inviting. I’ll enjoy the anticipation and take each step one by one. My footfalls echo back to me — the only sound I hear in this barren place. As I continue my descent, the railing seems to disappear — but I can hold my balance without it.

Getting closer to the abyss, I see a faint shape in the darkness. Its moving parts seem to have their own rhythm, yet they seem to belong together. I continue. In the far distance, I see a flash of color — two reddish splashes that disappear again before I can know whether my mind isn’t actually playing tricks on me. Closer.

The guts of the machine are coming into focus, and I realize that its parts are grasping at me. Sharp edges, like … claws? Grasping again. At once, I realize that what I’ve been seeing is one small piece of something much larger and beyond comprehension. Those red splashes are eyes. My descent has an end, and a welcoming entity. I plunge into the darkness, and into the claws of my new master.

© 2016 Jeannie Novak