In a dimension clinging to the outskirts of our own, a tiny blimp wallowing in anonymity set the scene. Within the confines of these perimeters, a stark example of nothingness presented miles and miles stretched without an example of civilization. Life popped up occasionally to claim the title, singular spots thrumming with activity before flatlining. One such instance was a concrete building shooting high into the air, a shining fortress of window after window gleaming in the nonexistent light. Surrounded and outnumbered by a layer of pink fog creeping along the sides.
In this building, the ebb and flow of corporate life persisted relentlessly. Every floor was devoted to cubicles, organized squares with a small table and a standard set of phones at the ends. Clicks and rings carried the nightmare of busywork to life while the mice ran around mazelike paths. There, the business of what is commonly called fate or destiny worked overtime, dominating and thriving in a way those wide-eyed dreamers with clouds between their ears couldn’t imagine. Those delicate strings were reduced to nothing more than a work assignment. A full-blown system bubbled up around this concept.
Knitting needles hovered above each desk, doing their due diligence to the craft as thread weaved and bobbed, a tapestry forming with clicks. These effortless movements carried on the tradition, a pile coiling atop the wooden surface. That day’s work is on display.
The job entailed a shallow learning curve of cushy inevitabilities, the occasional glance by a character chained to a desk as an idle representation of the company.
One of the drones, Ernie Burkworst, sat in the centermost row, and a little to the left was an unfortunate creature not designed to be admired. Dressed in the uniform of a sort of forced corporation, better known as a suit and tie, wrinkles spoke of an unkept style that wasted any potential.
He completely sabotaged the production as his professionalism hit a low.
Ernie possessed a short stature, spurred on by equally unimpressive characteristics. With a layer of green skin at the forefront, capturing the warmth of a sick bucket, the glow of sickliness remained in full bloom. Pointed ears rested on the sides of his head, sticking out for the complete effect. Dark orbs against a white background comprised most of its eye sockets and stood in place of eyes. A thin, upturned nose sat in the center of its face, jutting out further than necessary. With these finishing touches to its character, he embraced the true profession of a professional loafer.
With this picture in mind, it wasn’t hard to imagine a chip the size of Manhattan had developed, burrowing in deep.
Ernie struggled with fluttering eyelids that flattered no one, struggling for control while his head drifted to the side. The deep rumblings growing in his throat quickly moved from the development stages, starting and stopping in pitiful chokes. Unsettling the creature enough to fidget and stir, just enough to set the scene in motion. A simple swivel, the smallest of movements, forced the plot. The plastic cradling his frame moved just enough to clack against the metal needles.
Ernie’s eyes burst open. A wrongly placed knot had marred the pattern. With the same disposition of a fish behind glass, Ernie had barely formed a thought before the cavalry arrived. The three-part entity of matching suits and stoic uniformity, a flowing set boring their intense focus into Ernie.
“An error has occurred,” the centermost creature spoke, caught in a rough patch that cut itself on the way out.
“It must be fixed!” a soft lullaby stood starkly against the previous scraps, the furthest from the left said with insistence.
“You must fix this!” the last spoke with neither the previous detractions nor allure that could be found, a letdown in its simplicity.
“You have three hours,” they cheered like a pep squad, a unified chant that only missed pom poms. Despite this rhythmic merriment, they remained sulking before slithering away for more promising ventures.
But their disappearance came with a new development, the addition of a timepiece wounding itself around Ernie’s neck. A weight that grew tighter the more he fought the inconvenience, the shortening leash of consequence inescapable. The loud tick emanating from the piece, the thrum of time counting to an unknown destination.
With more than a few grumbles and sighs, Ernie was weighed down by unfairness and cruel implications. These matters were gathered with a suitcase and jacket, setting off in the presumed direction.
A meeting occurred in the other room when these events were being constructed. With a set of plots and shenanigans to account for, the trio’s desires were finally coming to fruition. Adding a nearly cheery disposition to each face, evenly distributed emotions pinched and prodded until their former attitudes returned.
“This is our opportunity!” The rough-hewn words grasped at hope, the faulty straw mixed into the group. Nods and bobbing heads affirmed these words, the uniform choice.
“How long does he have?” one or another of the faces said, the inoffensive mess of tones leading to the appropriate person.
“About half an hour,” these last syllables sent a ripple through the group, overflowing mirth in the form of near smirks and smiles. An abundance of curated emotions were quickly put in check.
Meanwhile, Ernie had managed to find an elevator. Jazz’s gentle and soothing melody was an irritating backdrop to a nonsensical situation. The long trip to the basement in the ricketty platform from the abyss, meandering at its own pace, was a lesson in overcoming terror as he clung to the railing.
Landing in the bottom-most available spot, the basement with its sketchy remnants of neglect and filth. Ernie maneuvered past all the vents and questionable drips that spontaneously found their way onto all surfaces. At the back of this, a door resided without the benefit of blending into these surroundings. A fine example of redirected funds was a shiny, well-kept exterior, intricate patterns of well-intentioned
designs along the panels consisted of florals and poorly painted animals. A cheery addition along the dreary creaks and crevices available. Ernie passed through the doorway without even a modicum of thought toward these oddities. He found only a glass window taking up not nearly enough space in a small area that dared be, at most, a simple square. A beige nightmare could be found beyond, crammed with paperwork that threatened to swallow every bit of space. Blending into the chaos was a blonde, immersed with the vaguest interest in the doodles she produced. As Ernie approached, she could hardly be tasked with tearing her eyes away from the simple pen and paper, the scratch of constant contact loudly permeating the space.
“How can I help you?” the dry spell continued, a monotoned version of the words that dared any inflections to approach. The woman’s head was titled in a nonverbal question mark, and her unwavering support for her art stood firm. Adding widened eyes to her role.
With reciprocated kindness, Ernie handed off the paper. It took a mere glance, a few seconds, before a button was pressed to the side. Instantly, part of a wall slid away to reveal an elevator.
Ernie slogged to the metal box without an adieu to their long-winded relationship. A loud creak as he stepped inside set an ominous tone, added to as the doors closed and that unbearable ticking surrounding the space. The infernal noise held him hostage, a hefty burden on a tedious venture. After several thwacks to Ernie’s frame announced his arrival, and a ding made it official, the doors casually opened. The terrain was a bland affair, a blinding expanse far and wide. The slopping and stooping snowdrifts, an interchangeable patchwork of blended-together sizes, pitted themselves against the distinctly pink sky. A flamingo pink claimed the sky, while whispy clouds added decorative touches and a stark difference.
Still filled to the brim with grumbles and complaints, Ernie started the precarious journey of bumps and steep drop-offs. The narrow path of hazardous tricks and traps landed him at the opening of a cave. A piece of wood declared it to be ‘Blue Valley.’
A lively blimp of activity had strung up inside the mountain, a flowing stream of bustling life at its finest. A cool atmosphere thrumming, a live wire of activity encased in a block of ice while miniature green flames lit up and highlighted each area. The winding tunnels spewed in every direction as shops and establishments showcased everything possible; a reputation for unlimited source material proceeded the tiny outlet. These became the foundations for the homes above, a painfully cramped space of worn proportions in which the throes of life were forgotten. Each was marked by a colorful display for the passerby, propped up by the cold frame of every edifice.
An impression of awe held Ernie hostage, the slender forcing the mission from his mind. A relic sacrificed at the hands of short-term memory, Ernie wasted all those ticks, frittering them away like an abundance attitude. But negative always manages to seep into anything remotely decent, and noxious thoughts were reacquainted with reality.
From Ernie’s pocket, he produced a piece of paper. A simple piece of torn paper, an elegant scrawl floated across the sheet with delicate curves and-
“How dare you!” a voice broke the forthcoming wall of nonsense. Ernie’s concentration, which never truly belonged to anything, fully clung to this new development. “How could you, Bill,” this confirmation ticked the correct box, and so could proceed. Stuffing the paper back into a pocket, content with these events, Ernie marched along. He focused on the couple and their addresses, accessing the problematic situation with a quick glance. A series of aired grievances were a firing squad with defamatory shots as Ernie crept closer.
So immersed in their spat that he remained an invisible force. Inspecting the line connecting the oblivious pair, a behind-the-scenes peek for Ernie’s eyes. A thin string of invisible proportions, an ugly bulge fused the two and their unnatural ties. Thoughtful inspection, followed by the necessary introspection before he turned to the suitcase. Flipping the locks with a flourish, Ernie gazed at various handy devices. His fingers danced along this arrangement of versatility, these instruments at his disposal. He pulled out a gleaming bit of metal, scissors dulled from far too many adventures. Cleaving the metal in two, he wedged the pieces around the rope as usual.
He clamped down with force. Ernie’s expectations for this rudimentary ploy fell short, as not even a scratch could be found. Doubling his efforts met with undesired consequences, as the device had become separate entities in his hand. An offensive and useless tool Ernie quickly tossed away in a random direction.
Next, from the case of fun-time tricks, was a new show stopper in the form of a teeny-tiny saw. Perfectly placed, with the right amount of separation before the grading began. Quickly finishing as nothing but nubs had replaced the points, the pushing and pulling action a short-lived system.
With a thunk and a thud to announce its demotion, Ernie tossed the tool and turned to his next option. An undesirable option lay before him, waiting to be utilized. He produced a small box from the case with colorful hearts wrapped around every corner.
With a deep breath and a forced smile, Ernie jumped into action. Hapless enthusiasm had him hopping from one foot to the next as he meandered toward the couple.
‘Candy!?!’ aggressively shoved the confectionary delight into the pair’s faces, shock and instant reaction. For these efforts, he received only sneers and disgust. Their repugnance flew in the face of polite society.
“No! Thank you,” any politeness tainted, washed away, and eclipsed by the other feelings vying for dominance. The man turned slightly, otherwise shutting Burt out of the argumentive chaos.
“Are you sure,” a light-hearted tone suggested otherwise, propelling him between the pair with a smirk.
“Just take it, so it’ll go away!” the woman said through clenched teeth, not even daring to glance at Burt.
Ripping the box from his hand, nearly losing a finger or two in the process, Burt was then shooed away. Scooting off as the man opened the box, a new strain of the argument started, revving to be the best yet.
From a short distance, Ernie watched with a calm demeanor and that smirk. Not even the clock around his neck could goad him into a reaction, the constant rhythm of that clock a mere nuisance.
The first clues came momentarily as the pair began to shiver, the uncontrollable force that left them confused and replaced the anger. Chattering teeth getting in the way of the defense.
AAH-
To the man’s horror, his foot had become encased in ice, turning into an icicle before his eyes. A high-pitched form of chaos ensued as the ice quickly consumed the pair, and their screams were promptly muffled.
Once they stood frozen solid, Ernie approached once again. Procuring a hammer from his tool set, he stood before the rope. The ice extending to that connection, Ernie raised the hammer high. High above his head.
Propelling the instrument forward, he revealed empty hands. The upset shocked Ernie, who looked at his hands with disbelief. He followed the trail to the trio, standing with smirks.