(CIRKUMFLEKS)Magazine

A Worm is a Bird and Other Bad
Deckard retorts, “That’s very encouraging!”
Christophe and Genevieve say together, “Icebergs!”
Moreau jumps out of his seat. “Stop the ship!”
Deckard has no idea how to stop. “How?” Genevieve flips a control, and the
ship hovers over the open ocean.
Moreau points at something in the South, jutting from the water, a hundred
miles high, so high in fact, its peak skims the clouds. “There it is!” He
screams, at Genevieve, “Sergeant Lambert, full power to the anti gravity
device! I want to wipe these things off the planet!” It looks like a giant
iceberg, but it’s teaming with holes, and inside can be seen billions of
mechanical worms.
Deckard says, almost to herself, out of shock, “A worm factory!”
Genevieve begins firing, at the giant factory, as the mechanical worms team
out, towards the tiny ship. The anti gravity device lifts the worms upwards,
until they cascade like a carpet of serpents, mechanical bones crunching as
the atmosphere burns them into innocent flashes.
The factory remains intact, sitting quite smugly as if it has some awareness of
its menace. Deckard steers the ship nearer, past stray worms, as they
pummel against the sides, making the ship spin, into unwelcome turbulence.
Moreau cries, “Force fields!” Everything inside goes dark, steam bellows from
the engine, before the power returns, and the generator charges the force
field, making the worms ricochet off the sides, into the sky.
Deckard hollers, “How do you plan to destroy it?”
Moreau removes his cigar. “The opposite of ice, Captain, good old fashioned
fire!”
The ship emits another noise, and the crew covers their eyes, as a light,
sweeps all trace of the landscape. When the whiteness fades, Deckard hears
her companions screaming, but in euphoria, rather than its opposite. She
joins them, watching as the ice factory crumbles into the ocean, little worm
workers tumbling, like in some apocalyptic painting she saw in The Tate as a
girl, although God has no part in this, machine induced justice. She laughs,
“Looks like it’s bird over worm, machine beats machine.” She sits back, with
the others and remembers Paris burning, toasts her crew, silently, and hopes
there’s enough left of the world to call this victory.
(CIRKUMFLEKS)Magazine 2.2012