Vernon Wright - November 3rd, 2008

The machine sings.

Don’t know the words, but there is meaning, intent. I built and connected and attached and slid the metal into each other one by one, and now it spins one way and then the other, keeping its pace as long as my hand turns the crank. Its Music no longer scratches, but rings, echoing through my dim apartment and mesmerizing even the rats. They’ve taken to sitting beside me while I adjust the handle and the pulleys, Nigel at the front and his dozen or so friends behind him. Sometimes the adjustments make it clearer, and sometimes I need to backtrack what I did. I think it’s called tuning on normal instruments. Maybe that’s what I’m doing here.

I have plenty of time for it now. I have been freed from my job.

They said it’s because I was out for a week, the last few days unannounced. They said they missed appointments because of me. Lost money because of me. Failed in the promises made to clients on exactly when we would butcher animals because of me. Dennis showed up to drop my last paycheck, and he was mad. He said they took a risk on me, and even though his last day was today, that’s his own reputation. He also said he’s worried, and maybe that’s a tactic of some kind, but it looked like he was telling the truth. He was edging forward, as if trying to get into the apartment. Maybe I should have invited him in.

But I needed to get back to the machine. So away he went.

I was never what they needed for that job. I couldn’t be the person they wanted me to be. They wanted me to be a person who could kill on command and then clean up the shit. Or at least someone who would show up every day without thought and walk the walk and do the job and then go to sleep and come back in the morning to do it all over again.

Maybe there was a time when I was that person. Maybe there was a time where I wanted to be that person. College, job applications, career, financial stability…it all seems so far away and irrelevant. At the end of the day, the only draw of life is to build and make a mark. Or watch it all collapse under its own weight.

I might collapse. Fade away, insignificant, forgotten, a speck of rodent feces brushed away by the broom of time. But even the smallest spark can start a wildfire, even a single slithering rat can start an infestation, and my work can be greater than the sum of my parts.

I can finish the Machine.

I will finish the Machine.

Money might be a problem. Rent’s due the first Friday of the month, so I only have a few days. And my last paycheck wasn’t what I had hoped.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant. I’ll finish the Machine and then I’ll be beyond money. I’ll be beyond anything material.

I’ll be one with the Music.

"This Machine Belongs to" is a production of Halfwit Podcasts. This episode was written by Matt Spaziani. Vernon Wright is voiced by Jonathan Swenson. Based on the journaling game "The Machine" by Adira and Fen Slattery.

If you'd like to support our endless toil with the machine or listen to our other podcasts, visit HalfwitPodcasts.com, or find specific links in the show notes of each episode. 

Lastly, the most efficient way to build The Machine is by telling friends of its importance in our once meaningless lives. Some day, This Machine could belong to you.