Pete Phillips worked at AGM. Automated Greenhouse Manufacturers. It was a cool gig. Frankly, it was a good time. He had a dual purpose there. He worked overnight as security, and also kept the place spiffed up.
Running a dust mop on the main floor, emptying the garbage, cleaning and organizing the common areas, and vacuuming the offices. That was usually all he had to do. He was lucky that the bathrooms were not his responsibility. Once that was all complete, it was basically a pretty fun event each night.
Pete was 50 years old. He had done some things in his life, but mostly, he was a regular guy who understood the simple things like family and community are the real values in life. He got wise young. Living in the town where he grew up, he knew how lucky he was to have a stable life around mostly honest, decent folks who want to be productive and develop as people.
He felt so good about his job. He looked after a place where dozens of his townsfolk worked. He knew all of them, even the transplants. He had a good relationship with the owners and the situation was simpatico, it was copacetic.
Pete loved it when he was done with the chores because for the rest of the night, all he had to do was make his rounds once per hour. He had to clock those hours at each station. Very often he would start his rounds in a way that he could do them back-to-back, near the end of an hour, then start again at the beginning of the next hour. He had it timed that way. This gave him about an hour and a half between rounds to do anything he wanted, He could read, watch a screen, go online, or even take naps.
One of the thing he loved to do was go to the assembly floor and ride the hoist. There was a system for moving the heavy pieces back and forth above the floor to be set in place on larger assemblies. He’d tie himself into the canvas strap, and holding the controller, he’d lift himself up and traverse the place as the system moved across on a rail attached to the 50-foot ceiling, spanning an area that was about half a football field. He’d get a bird’s eye view of the whole floor and it was a kick. He’d swing around up there, and sometimes be able to notice things that he needed to address in terms of his cleanup duties.
On one of these nights, there was something new on the floor. Something he’d never seen in there before. Some kind of new project was happening. It must have been what all the hush-hush was about. There had been a lot of mystery at the place lately. A new, small crew of people had been hired. They were all from out of town. They were nice enough people, but the word was that they kept their work to themselves, and were not speaking about what they were doing. A couple of days a week, they’d have the place to themselves, and the rest of the floor employees were off work on those days, and with pay. It must have been a pretty lucrative contract for the Company to be able to do that.
Pete carried himself over to a large cylindrical enclosure at the far end of the shop. The big metal cylinder had a hum to it, he didn’t know what was in there, no one in town knew. All they knew is that it was some kind of new project that was bringing in a lot of money for the Company and the town.
As he approached the cylinder, he was able to peek into the top of the cylinder, and the closer he got to it, the louder the hum became. In fact, it started to buzz with a different sound. He could now see all the way into the enclosure, and it began to pop and crackle. As he positioned himself closer to the center of it, he could feel the electrical nature of the contents sort of coursing through him like a mild electrical charge.
He pulled himself away from the cylinder. That was a lot. He knew that if this was a greenhouse product, it was pretty weird. The thing is, Pete’s not that dumb. This had to be some kind of black budget affair with the Government.
He was surprised to think that the Company would be engaged with something like this. It’s not that he assumed it was nefarious, he had no way of knowing that, but Pete loved his town, he loved the people, and he had a primal response to protect them from any kind of danger or threat. He knew he was probably already in trouble. He also knew he had a larger obligation to protect his people. That was Pete’s nature.
He had to document this and get in touch with people who could handle this strategically and delicately, to not alarm people, but to be sure he was not going to put anyone in danger for his discovery. He carried himself back over, above the cylinder to get some photos with his phone.
As he centered himself above the cylinder, the electrical charge was strong. The hair on his head and body was standing on end. His hair was sticking straight outward from around the rim of his baseball cap. His arms and legs were tingling. He positioned his camera to get a wide shot of the entire circumference of the cylinder.
The moment he snapped the pic, he was met with a strand of plasma emitting from a suddenly bright purple ball in the middle of the cylinder. His body arced and his muscles tightened. Around him, he could see frequencies of light that he’s never been aware of, and sounds were crystalline. He could hear everything happening within a couple of miles around him.
Pete carried himself away from the cylinder and lowered himself to the floor. He looked at the picture, and he had nothing. The phone seemed like it had been killed by the event. He went up to the security office and put it on a charger.
It was time for him to do another round, and he thought about the ramifications of what he’d just done He knew he’d be honest about it when confronted, but he also knew it might be a good idea to consult a lawyer. He’d handle this with honesty and decorum, whatever happened.
Pete grabbed his lunch bag and approached his first security clock-in, he reached into the bag and pulled out a piece of cold fried chicken. He held the chicken in his hand and thought “This would be so much better warmed up”. He squeezed the chicken leg gently and somehow, inherently knew he could send plasma energy through his hand. He heated it up in about three seconds. It was piping hot, it smelled wonderful, and freshly cooked, not like leftovers. “That’s more like it.” He said to himself as he tore open a packet of mayo with his teeth, and watched it melt into the sizzling breading.
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This is a good time to mention that the Poemancer project with Sean Glatch is being funded through Kickstarter←. Here’s Sean on Substack.
If you can figure out what original image I derived the FAF panel from I’ll give you my book for free.
