Poetry

Engineer

Written by Jacob Ibrag

‘We’re still a go ahead on the build, conditions

are stable enough to lay over foundation.’ Awaiting

response from the voice inside his head, he stood still and

watched as a polar bear tore into its dinner. ‘Understood, I’ll

deliver on the arrangements before then. Do I need to remind

you on the package?’ Tapping on the outside of his right earlobe,

the transmission ceased to continue. Moving a little closer to the

bear, he stopped fifteen feet back and blinked three times to capture

a photo for later. ‘This wasn’t my idea, yet I must comply. With this

final favor, I’ll finally get to see him. Five years, five years since I’ve

seen my boys face.’ Projecting an image of his wife from his

left eye and onto the palm of his hand, the bear became

startled and ran the other way. ‘I’m sorry for

everything, I’m just the engineer.’


Photography by Klaus Thymann

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25 comments on “Engineer

  1. Interesting. Very futuristic. I like that kind of Sci-fi stuff!!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: Driven to Distraction | News Notes 1

  3. Compelling added readings

    to discern and appreciate its meaning,

    and succeeding in the disjointed,

    yet well-meaning tone of its being.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Once again, nicely crafted

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Awesome!! Each and every word☺@

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Nice blog set up, photos, and a nice piece of writing here. Not sure quite what to make of it. Startled to read, “polar bear,” which kept me reading after I thought this was just going to be some regular workaday techie day in the life. A pleasant surprise to find the more unusual locale, work situation, and the emotion underneath it.

    Liked by 2 people

  7. Oh, and thank you for following and Liking so often on my blog. :~)

    Liked by 2 people

  8. Great piece of writing. Really gets the imagination going.

    Liked by 2 people

  9. This is sad. But very good. A question of who bears the blame?

    Liked by 2 people

  10. I remember . . . Brenda.
    How we zee-gee danced like star struck fools across the glassy
    open spaces inside the smelting oven chambers of Star Forge Station 47.
    So afraid that at a moment’s notice they might open the Mylar lens,
    igniting the solar touches that burn chunks of moon rock into solar
    cells. I remember how you charmed the station commander when we were
    discovered.
    How we curled and unfurled in a tangle of love deep in the steamy
    heart of the polymer ‘turkey bag’ jungles of Enoch Tor, mere microns of
    polymer between us and hard vacuum. Gently floating, idle in the soft
    green light of the moment you told me of your disdain for the ‘ground
    worms’ who live in such maddening profusion at the bottom of the Well.
    Of your star-child contempt for gravity. Your strange sardonic smile
    when you fell silent. I can still see your eyes suddenly dark as the
    obsidian void between the stars when I told you . . . told you that I
    loved you.
    I remember the flash rescue mission at Geo-sync Prime. How we
    huddled in the cramped one man cockpit of the Space Navy rapid-response
    launch, pulling more gees than humans were designed for down the Well.
    How you risked more than your life to save that stranded girl. How we
    were paraded through the neon confetti clouded belt ways of Grand
    Central Station, heroes beyond any doubt. How you were fashionably
    unimpressed.

    I remember . . . the flashing crystal shards and the scream of
    decompression piercing my helmet. Shit! Blowout! My head screaming
    with claxons and I see the lock warning lights flashing!
    See the lights! Brenda, do you see the lights? Get to station,
    damn it, GET TO STATION! The lock is closing, relentlessly. Can’t hold
    it . . . I feel the metal plate in my boot buckling as I try to obstruct
    the damned door. I hate hydraulics. Come ON!. Have you grown so tired
    of your life . . . with me? Please don’t be in such a hurry to leave
    me . . .
    Again, I am pleading with you, begging you to grab the tether.
    Please, please, please pull yourself in.
    You blew me a kiss.
    Here in my head, in the silence of this room, I still hear the air
    shrieking into the lock. Again I feel people trying to grapple me
    aboard as I fight to get to you.
    In the silence of this room I remember . . . Brenda.

    Liked by 2 people

  11. devereaux frazier

    Reblogged this on Creative Writing Reblogged.

    Liked by 1 person

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