Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Mother, Son by Jon "Moose" Tetrino

The sickle went down, and cut the stems. The crop fell to the sack. It was how it worked.


Efficient like so many of the processes the people went through. Why waste the effort picking up the crop?


Why waste the crop that would inevitably spoil on the ground? This was the reasoning behind Son.


Mother stood guard. The fields were vast, hiding dangers both known and untold.


Many would see to it that Mother and Son were prevented from harvesting – for they would surely starve.


Mother often wondered who would be so cold as to present such a want, for isn’t all life sacred in its being?


“Mother?” Son asked, far from oblivious of Mother’s current passage into the same wonderment as before.


“Son, you should continue. We do not have the time to waste here. We must feed the family.”


“Sorry Mother.”


The sickle went down, and cut the stems. The crop fell to the sack. An explosion occurred. It was how it worked.


Son stopped again, and looked up at the Mother. “I just wanted to know... if all life is sacred, as you have taught... why do we harvest? Is the crop not as sacred as all other life?”


Mother looked down and sighed. “There is a place for all life. The wind plants the seeds in the soil the ground prepared. The rain grows the crops we then eat. Eventually we die, and the family use us to continue, turning us into soil to continue the crops. Now, keep working, your sacks are almost full.”

The sickle went down, and cut the stems. The crop fell to the sack. An explosion occurred. People screamed in terror. It was how it worked.



Son, interested more by this way of thinking, could not help himself. While working, he was distracted. Where was his place in this chain of life? To work until death, then be turned into more work for someone else? “Is work all there is?” he muttered under his breath.


Mother heard him, as she always did, and scorned. The bond they had was unbreakable to a fault, everything he said or even thought she heard.


Son forgot this often. It was a mark of the family – unity without question, all for the good of the Queen.
The sickle went down, and cut the stems.


The crop fell to the sack. An explosion occurred. People screamed in terror. Liquid melted bulkheads. It was how it worked.


Ah yes the Queen. Commander of all the family, as large as it is. Without her, things would grind to a halt. The village wouldn’t be built, the Sons wouldn’t work, the Mothers wouldn’t protect. It would be anarchy A long painful death for the family.


Son often envied her position, but never dared to speak about it.


Others, to, had felt the same, but short of wonder nobody would attempt to usurp the Queen.


Failure would bring death, success would bring upheaval. Neither helped the family, both caused unnecessary loss.


There was no need to cause revolution when the system they had was so successful.


The sickle went down, and cut the stems. The crop fell to the sack. An explosion occurred. People screamed in terror. Liquid melted bulkheads. Tendrils collected the liquid. It was how it worked.


Son was still young – a new addition, a new sheep in the flock.


There were many things he did not understand, and that was why Mother was there.


Mother would answer his questions, and protect him until he could protect himself.


In the field, something stirred.


A wolf, as big as the Son himself, came out of hiding and ran towards him.


Son did not notice the threat, concentrating as he was on the crop.


Mother, on the other hand, caught it at the last moment.


 Jumping in the path of the Wolf, there was little struggle.


Mother was a capable fighter, having been a protector for many ages past.


A strike from her sword and a shot from her bow was enough to send the wolf fleeing.


Son was unsure if the wolf would return, but Mother seemed content with the results of her work.


The sickle went down, and cut the stems. The crop fell to the sack. An explosion occurred. People screamed in terror. Liquid melted bulkheads. Tendrils collected the liquid. A ship arrived. A volley was fired. The ship was damaged. The ship warped away. It was how it worked.


The sun began to set. The day had been long, and Son had to finish his work.


He had harvested many fields today, but Mother would not be pleased if he did not fill his sacks for return to the village. A few more minutes and he would be done.


The sickle went down, and cut the stems. The crop fell to the sack. An explosion occurred. People screamed in terror. Liquid melted bulkheads. Tendrils collected the liquid. A ship arrived. A volley was fired. The ship was damaged. The ship warped away. The habitat module was breaking apart. People were dying. It was how it worked.


Finally, it was time. Mother spoke softly to her Son. “Come, you did well, it is time to offer your work to the village.”


Son was happy. He had managed to finish his work in time to return.


It would be a long journey back through the fields to the village, but he didn’t mind. Mother was always there for him, and with her by his side he felt as safe as he could be.


Tonight he sees the queen, and offers his harvest.


One more cut and he was done, and together, they began their journey home.


The Mother Drone and her Son aligned to the Hive. After flying through the debris of their toils, they warped, leaving the empty husk of the structures behind them. It was how it worked.


(This is a short story written by a good friend of mine, if you wish to contact him he told me to place his MSN messenger here ogf@hotmail.co.uk , tell me or him if you wish to see more of his work in the future!) 

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