Crush

Maya scanned her ID badge and stepped into the elevator. Her heart beat so hard she was sure everyone could see it through the thick canvas of her Repression Solutions coveralls. The brushed metal doors reflected her coworkers, swaying like wraiths as the car conveyed them into the subterranean depths. Maya’s stomach flipped when they touched down on the warehouse floor.

She climbed a ladder and nestled in the cockpit of her mech, flipping switches to activate the hydraulic legs beneath her. The startup safety protocols ran. She reviewed the logs, slipped on her headset, and waited for her favorite part of the job.

A warm voice filled her head. “There’s my girl. How’s the best pilot in the business?”

“Hello, Silas. Delighted you’re my right-hand man today.” Maya savored his honey-sweet vowels. His voice was the soundtrack to her workday and often followed her into her dreams.

“I’m locked in up here. The equipment passed precheck—barely, so let’s crush it.”

Maya leaned into the suspension harness and wrapped her fingers around twin joysticks. Kicking her legs behind her, she brought the mech to its full height. This was her second favorite part of the job. Steel shelves stretched into the darkness, cluttered with vessels emitting a supernatural glow. Ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, she crab-walked the four legs bearing their demolition equipment and its irresistible operator.

“I picked you an easy one to start: Odette Schneider. Wanted to be a ballerina when she was five,” Maya said. She extended the mech’s stabilizers and released the controls to her partner. From her seat in the cockpit, she watched Silas negotiate the grabber arm and collect a glass jewelry box from the shelf.

“Jeez, how old is this?” he said. The box flickered briefly, pink fireflies tumbling through its interior.

“1983, so she should be in her mid-fifties,” Maya said, consulting the destruction data sheet.

“Odette, this hurts me a lot more than it’s going to hurt you.” He dropped the box into the dual axis shredder. It shattered with a groan. “I hate that sound. It sticks with you.”

“I’m sure Odette’s found happiness in some other area of her life. The warehouse probably has plenty of unrealized ballerinas.” Maya activated their next assignment on the console. “Let’s get a move on, lots to crush today.”

“Do you have anything down here?” Silas asked as the mech swayed beneath them, trundling down the aisle. He was stalling, Maya knew. He especially hated the next type in their queue; they were hard to crush and there was no shortage of them.

“Not that I know of,” Maya replied. A steel ammunition can containing Robert Eaton’s desire for his father’s approval slid into the metal baler. Silas dropped the arm and the canister screamed. A siren blared through the headset.

“Damn it, it’s jammed. Fuck absent fathers, you know? I’m going topside,” Silas’s voice crackled.

The mech rattled as he opened his hatch. Maya powered it down, as per protocol. Decidedly against protocol, she opened her windscreen. Though they shared cramped quarters, she rarely laid eyes on Silas. It was a gift to drink in the lines of his body; the flex and shift of tendons beneath the cuffs of his uniform.

“What about you? Do you have anything in here?” she called.

Silas paused. He peered over his shoulder at her, the vessel’s glow giving his gaze a glassy sheen.

“I do.”

“What is it?” she asked breathlessly. Whenever they worked together, Maya was able to anticipate his movements and adjust hers accordingly. She could feel his palm in hers through the joysticks that controlled their individual units. This was unexpected.

“Baler’s still jammed,” he said. “Let’s head back to the dock and have a chat with dispatch.” He clambered back to his turret; chin tucked into his collar.

***

With both feet on the polished concrete floors of the loading dock, Maya felt small. Silas smiled crookedly and held the elevator door for her. They rode quietly until he drew a sharp breath.

“Are you wearing earrings?” He leaned close.

Maya tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She wore pearls; an eighteenth birthday gift. She’d checked the staffing assignment sheet before she dressed that morning.

“They’re nice,” Silas said, voice tight.

The elevator doors slid open and they blinked. Daylight drowned the Repression Solutions’ glass-paned lobby. Angeline, the runway-ready receptionist, sat at her desk.

“Can I ask you something?” Silas palmed Maya’s elbow.

“Anything.” She hardly dared breathe.

“Do I look alright?”

Maya studied his eyes, pupils pinpricks, adjusting to the sun. She swiped a slick of oil from his cheekbone.

“You’re perfect.”

He approached the reception desk.

Maya drifted through the lobby, killing time while Silas filed their maintenance request. For as long as she’d worked for Repression Solutions, she’d wondered where the inventory came from. Silas had a memory, a feeling, some unnamed desire in the warehouse. When was it filed, and had it been scheduled for disposition yet?

Her mech had never needed maintenance before, so she wasn’t sure how long this might take. Maya picked up a glossy marketing information packet about the latest extraction technology. She read it cover to cover before finally glancing toward reception.

Silas leaned over the counter while Angeline laughed, twirling a lock of hair.

“So, tonight?” Maya’s ears picked up his voice: a sound she would recognize anywhere. This time, its timbre was low and unfamiliar.

Heat grew beneath the collar of her coveralls. She forced herself to stand slowly, though she was desperate to ignore what she’d just seen. She’d been so stupid, tying her hopes and dreams to the voice in her headset. Groping for an exit, Maya stumbled into a private conference room and collapsed into a waiting recliner.

“Hello,” a pre-recorded voice greeted her. “Welcome to the repression chamber.”

Another gift from her workplace. First, her connection with Silas, threaded through her thoughts and actions. Now, the means of undoing it to make life bearable. Vision blurring, Maya mashed buttons on the recliner’s handset.

***

When she emerged from the conference room, she clutched a vial of her desire, glowing white hot. Angelina chatted on the phone, but Silas was nowhere to be found. Feet leaden, Maya boarded the elevator and descended to the warehouse floor.

The shift was only half-over. No other mechs were available at the loading dock. For the second time that day, she boarded the mech, climbing past the cockpit and into the demolition turret. Silas’ space. The chamber smelled like him. She squeezed the vial harder. It burned her hand and a hole in her heart.

Maya slid into his seat, molding herself into the oversized lumbar and height proportions. A jam warning blinked on the console. The baler was still out of order, but the vial was small, no larger than Odette Schneider’s ballerina ambitions. The shredder would have to do. She held the vial out the turret window and attempted to maneuver the grabber arm. Its joystick was rudimentary, lacking the subtlety of the pilot’s controls. After a few misses, the clamp secured around the vial. Carefully, she positioned it over the shredder and released the controls. The vial missed, falling clear.

She pried open the turret porthole and scanned the floor for evidence of broken glass. A flash of white caught her eye near the mech’s internal foot. The vial lay completely intact, but that was fine. There was more than one way to crush it, and Maya was the best in the business.

She exited the demolition turret and returned to her cockpit. Eschewing all safety conventions, she rebooted the mech and kicked her leg back again, and again, and again. The steel frame rocked recklessly. Would she feel anything when it was destroyed? Would the ache in her chest ever subside? Even after the extraction procedure, she could feel the shadow of its warm glow. Maya strained her ears for the telltale shatter of glass, evidence that she’d finally crushed it. She heard nothing but the screech and whir of the hydraulics reloading.

Breathless, she dropped the controls and slammed the switches into shutdown protocol. She swallowed hard as the mech fell from its full height, rattling the nearby shelves when it crashed down. That persistent crystalline glow caught her eye, wedged beneath one of the mech’s feet. She’d stomped it, wielding all 9,000lbs of the exoskeleton’s weight, and yet there it remained: brilliant, bright, and hopeful. Uncrushed.

Maya wedged the vial out from under the mech and studied it, marveling at its impossible resilience. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be crushed; it was something to hold on to and grow with. Maya cradled the vial in both hands, lifting it to her heart.

The elevator doors opened across the loading dock. Maya turned and saw Silas emerge. His eyes met hers and he stopped short, clutching a glowing vial of his own.