Gears

  Gears turned and squeaked on the rust covered walls, forming lines of billions each, stacked on top of each other in a neat and organized way. A ladder leaned on each of the four walls going as high as heaven itself.
  A man sat on the cold metal floor, wiping the grime from his face onto his
thick leather overalls. Two belts of various tools wrapped around his waist and chest. He clapped his gloved hands together, waiting patiently for his orders.
  What gear should he fix, break, or stop? Who was going to die or live, or who would be born today?  The man had no way of knowing, just doing. A strip of light cut into the
space in front of him and a spirit drifted into the room. His robes of snow white dazzled as they reflected in the twisted metal of his wings. Spirals of copper and silver sprang from his back as bolts of gold and diamond held them in place. A halo floated over his head; it was colored a soft orange as wisps of flames licked the rims. He held a tiny envelope sealed with a blood red stamp of a cross. “Here are today’s orders, Mr. Stint,” The spirit said to him. “Be sure that each is fulfilled at the time specified.” “Yeah, yeah,” Mr. Stint mumbled. He snatched the envelope away from the spirit.
  The spirit started his way back to the portal of light, but before reaching it he turned to Mr. Stint and said, “Do you mind tightening a screw back there for me?”
  He pointed to the middle of his back using his thumb. Mr. Stint grumbled and headed over to him with a screwdriver. He tightened the golden screw until it no longer wobbled, but was stuck in place where it should be. The spirit waved a hand in thanks before stepping through the light and zipping the portal closed again.
  Mr. Stint’s eyes were locked on the spot for a few minutes, wishing that he too could leave like the spirit. He slipped a finger under the flap of the envelope, tearing the glue from the paper with each careful tug. He removed the parchment enclosed. Unfolding it gently, Mr. Stint let out a great sigh as he reached for a cigar on a nearby stool. He snapped two fingers together to make a small fire and lit the end of his cigar. He had the urge to light the parchment on fire as well. Finally, Mr. Stint struggled to stand, his knees locked as he pushed up on his feet. He limped over to what appeared to be a giant boom box attached to a flat screen. He slipped the parchment into an opening of the boom box and pressed the triangle play button. The parchment was sucked in quickly and numbers flashed on the screen. The numbers stopped, and then an image of a little boy played. It was in the real world, the world forbidden to Mr. Stint. The screen flashed again and the information for the little boy showed on the screen.

Nathan Cale Darsh
Age: 6
Time of Death Specified: 1:52
p.m. May 29, 2011
Gear #12, Row 13,285

  This was how it always was. No way of knowing how, just knowing when. Mr. Stint glanced at his enlarged wristwatch on his left arm. 1:50 p.m. He leaped onto the nearest ladder and climbed to row 13,285. He counted the gears from left to right until he reached number 12. He glanced at his watch once more; it read 1:52 p.m. Mr. Stint raised a big wrench and let it crash against the gear, causing it to scream in pain and slow to a stop. Mr. Stint climbed down the ladder with the dead gear and threw it into to fumes of the blacksmith fires. He watched for a moment as the gear turned red hot, melting away and fusing with the other boiling scraps of metal. The next order was a man.

Adam Edward Honnard
Age: 32
Time to be Saved: 2:05 p.m. May
29, 2011
Gear #58, Row 49,495

  This is what. Mr. Stint didn’t understand. Why must a little boy be ordered to die when a man with a slow gear should be saved? It was 2:03 p.m. Mr. Stint was shaking his head to clear his mind. He had been doing this job ever since the human race was created. He was created for this purpose. It wasn’t always like this, though. There were too many miracles, but at the price of innocent sacrifices. Mr. Stint made his way to gear #58. It was 2:05 p.m. He oiled the gear and tightened the bolt holding it the ancient, rusted wall. It rotated faster and faster until it caught up to speed with the other healthy gears. Mr. Stint slid down the ladder to the boom box for the next name. He scrunched down on his stool as the screen blinked and an image of a young woman was played.

Laney Shannon Oakland
Age: 21
Time of Death Specified: 2:17
p.m. May 29, 2011
Gear #23, Row 18,289

  Mr. Stint rose slowly from his stool as the picture of Laney stayed on the screen, smiling upon him. She had dark brown curls that rolled over her shoulders like waterfalls. Her hair framed her slender face. Her bangs brushed against the long lashes outlining her honey coated eyes. A wide smile rounded her freckled cheeks. Mr. Stint felt his heart thump against his chest. He grabbed his dirty shirt and cursed himself. She was absolutely beautiful, and he had fallen for her. He didn’t understand why or how, for in the eternity that he has had this job, he had never felt this way before. There was no use being in love with a live human. Even when they died, Mr. Stint could never see anyone. Nobody entered unless with orders. It was 2:15 p.m. Mr. Stint couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed the pause button and buried his face into his leathery palms as all the gears stopped. Almost immediately, a phone hanging on a bare spot of the wall started to ring. He was shaking and sobbing; his mind cracked and was falling apart with each earsplitting ring of the phone. The phone grew restless after ringing for three minutes straight. It flung off the wall and flew as close to Mr. Stint as its cord would let it. Before it could hit him in the back of the head, Mr. Stint swung around and caught the phone. He brought it to his ear, his arm moving as if it was in pain.
  “What do you want,” Mr. Stint hissed.
  A deep voice sounded from the other side, “Why did you stop the flow of time?”
  “I can’t do it anymore, God,” Mr. Stint whined. Tears trickled down his dusty face leaving streaks of clean skin above his bristled shadow. “Why must you take innocent, healthy lives away, just so you can save the sick and dying?”
  “So people can have miracles. If there were no miracles, there’d be no faith,” God replied calmly.
  “But why her? Why little Nathan? They both will never experience the joys of life,” Mr. Stint sobbed.
  “Some lives don’t have much joy, Mr. Stint,” God said. “I choose those with damned lives to use to save the ones who really do have something to live for. Nathan if he had grown up would be living with addiction to drugs and a downward spiral into crime and gangs. Laney is left by her fiancé and becomes bankrupt, turning to prostitution to earn money. Do you want that to happen to her?”
Mr. Stint was silent. He stared into the picture of Laney’s smiling face, imagining how twisted it would become if she really would take the path God specified.
  “Oh, God,” Mr. Stint cried. “I hate this job. I don’t like taking or giving life. It’s not for me anymore. Why can’t you just change people’s paths for the better and  save me the grief?”
  “I cannot change, just watch over. I take those who would be happier in heaven and watch over those who need to stay on Earth,” God replied. “Now, press play and do what is needed to be done.”
Mr. Stint hung up the phone aggressively. He reluctantly pressed the play button and climbed the ladder to gear number 23. He banged his wrench on the gear. He sobbed as it screamed and stopped. Mr. Stint pried it off and threw it into the fires, watching it melt into hot liquid. He banged his fists on the cold floor, bangs echoing against the walls of turning gears. Then he was still, listening to the squeaks of the gears and the hissing of steam drifting to the high ceiling.
  Something probed him in the shoulder. Mr. Stint looked up to see a young woman bending over him, watching him with concerned honey glazed eyes. He was looking into the face of Laney. The surprise was so sudden that he couldn’t stand. She helped him up.
  “I-I’m new here,” She said. “God sent me here to help you. He said I was greatly needed.”
  Mr. Stint nodded, his chest flooding with happiness and love. He wrapped a tool belt around her waist and buckled it as tight as it could be. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, silently thanking God for giving him his own miracle in what had seemed like a life of eternal pain. He understood what needed to be done, and now he had the support he needed to do it.

-Addy