Harold laid on his back and stared at the metal rivets on the ceiling. It had been built before he was born by his grandfathers generation. They built it in a dry doc for the government to fight someone else’s grandfather over something that seemed a little silly now. The war machinery living long after its purpose, needs a reason to survive, Harold thought. He remembered saying the Pledge of Alliance, a sort of oath to his country, throughout his childhood to a flag in the corner of the room. He remembered learning about Christopher Columbus as if he were an American folk hero, only to learn later that he was a genocidal maniac that murdered and enslaved the entire ingenious people on the island he discovered. He wondered if being lied to was part of the system.
The Captain had told him they were going to quietly change the world. He
smiled and said that all it would take would be a little nudge. Just a little nudge and people don’t have to suffer. “Just a little nudge, and the agency will not crack your skull with a round,” the Captain said with a chuckle.
Maybe it’s time to do a little nudge, he thought.
He wasn’t sure what a middle manager was in the context of submarine crew,
but he figured part of it was getting to know the crew.
He decided to start with Patrick. Patrick spent most of his days in a small closet that he slunk in and out of to use the bathroom and to find food. He reminded Harold of an animal on a nature documentary cautiously leaving its burrow. He would always hurry back, and Harold could hear him lock the door from the inside.
Harold walked up to the door and knocked gently. He could hear Patrick typing furiously. He banged on the door again, and the typing became louder. Harold could hear a loud sucking sound followed by more typing.”I can’t play right now Harold, Daddy has to work,” Patrick wheezed as he shouted through the door.
Harold could smell the cloud of dab that must have been filling the small metal room he was sitting in.
Eugene startled Harold with a tap on the shoulder. “What are you doing?”
Eugene asked as he leaned his stocky frame against the door, smiling. He stuck a fat stubby finger deep in his ear and scratched it.
“I’m trying to get to know the crew,” Harold said. He could no longer hear
Patrick typing and assumed he was listening.
“Well, what you need to know about Patrick is that he has the social skills of a
tired toddler,” Eugene shouted banging on the door. Patrick began to bang back and the two men began shouting “fuck you” at each other while rattling the door with their fists.
“Hey, let’s talk over here,” Harold said, grabbing Eugene’s hand and leading
him back into the crew cabin and away from Patrick’s shouting.
Harold’s bed creaked as he sat on it. He pointed to the bed across from his; and Eugene plopped himself onto it, the springs whining as his weight settled.
“Patrick is a big man baby that needs to learn how to talk to people,” Eugene
said. Harold nodded as Eugene scratched the corner of his wiry red beard. “He also never says thank you and will steal your sandwich.” Harold nodded again.
Harold read in a forgotten middle management book that it was important to
acknowledge someone’s feelings, even though their feelings had little impact on what you were telling them. Harold found the best way to acknowledge feelings was the sympathetic nod, and in rare cases, the shoulder pat. “So what do you do?” Harold asked.
Eugene pulled out a small black box from his pocket. “I upgrade, beat into
submission, and make things run.” Eugene pushed a button on the box and a
green light began to flash. “I made this piss bucket a massive
raspberry pi cluster with access to every system on the ship, so that troll could do his thing and not one thank you….ass hole”
Harold nodded and patted Eugene on the shoulder. Eugene’s eyes narrowed and Harold moved his hand before it could get bitten.
The green light on the box went out and was replaced by a yellow one. Harold
saw the yellow one blink for a moment before a red one began to flash in an odd rhythm.
“What does the red light mean?” Harold asked pointing to the box. Eugene
looked at the small black box and sighed. “God damn it. It’s one fucking thing
after the other.” He got up, slammed the door behind him with a boom that
Harold felt in his chest. Harold could hear Eugene yelling, and thought he heard something being shattered into pieces.
Harold sat there alone for a moment, staring at the empty chair across from him. Everyone worked together like broken gears in this place, he thought.