The '34 Starbird's horn blared as it hovered over Malcolm's stumbling steps. The car's exhaust coughed bits of debris leaving a miasma of coffee grounds and burnt banana coating the mailman. A chorus of teenaged hacks laughed while Malcolm grumbled. No one appreciated postal workers.
He waved at Mrs. Tulare but she looked away as she descended her craftmans house's stairs two steps at a time and forced Malcolm to dodge. Several allidogs leapt to snap toothy snouts at Malcolm's terry bag holding the mail. He glanced at the half-dozen fliers addressed to Mrs. Claudia Tulare. The maildrop in her door had one of those "No Advertisements" stickers on it with the letters in large blocky type. He sighed. He was paid to deliver the mail. Neither hurricanes, nor blizzards, nor firerot, nor biopet beast would block his rounds. Let alone an illegal refusal.
His head down, he walked towards the next craftsman house and collided with Mr. Sheron. Malcolm stepped backwards and the watch grass shivered as the notched edges pierced his boot's LeatherSteel™. His stomach roiled like two-week-old yogurt. Malcolm jumped back onto the safety of the sidewalk. Shaking he realized that the shoe salesman had cheated him. True LeatherSteel™ would defend against watch grass.
"Sorry, didn't see you." Mr. Sheron's eyes were puffy and a blackness colored his cheeks.
"No problem." The eyes didn't look right, but the rulebook was explicit about not involving yourself in their lives. He looked at the rust-tones of the sky and then back at Mr. Sheron. He was the last mail carrier and the rulebook was more about guidance than a federal law. "You okay?"
"Nothing." Mr. Sheron pushed past Malcolm.
The footsteps stopped and when Malcolm turned he saw a tear running down the man's cheek. A sign of the times that joy rarely visited.
"I... I won't be living here any longer."
Malcolm flipped through the mailbag to find one of the address change forms.
Mr. Sheron pushed Malcolm's hand away. "No. I don't need that. Do me a favor and continue to deliver my mail here."
A cold wind blew through the neighborhood and carried a scent of rain. Malcolm paged through the Sheron's mail. He opened the mailbox and prepared to drop the mail and stopped. There had been something in the man's voice. Not the sound of a wounded allidog. No, there'd been a note that reminded him of grade school and bullies.
Malcolm held the mail and put it back in his bag. All junk. He couldn't help the Sherons, but he decided as the rain picked up that it wasn't worth delivering ads. What could the city council do anyway? He was the last non-robotic postal worker. He poured his bag into a recycling bin and whistled as he walked home.
What a dismal world that is - mundane, but something sinister lurking beneath in the mistrust, and refusals.
ReplyDeleteActually thought this was quite fun. Loved the way that, although certain details had changed and exaggerated, it's still good old suburbia.
ReplyDelete@TS, I don't believe this world is necessarily dismal; however, I think Malcolm sees the world as dismal (at least to begin with) and therefore I'm pleased you think it's dismal because his views came through.
ReplyDelete@Adam, glad you found it fun; suburbia has a way of conquering change.
An interesting world you've conjured up here. I guess we now know when the last of the mailmen died out. Good story!
ReplyDelete@Eric, thanks.
ReplyDeleteThere are some dismal tones to your future here, or are least as Malcolm sees it. But I'm digging the Starbird. Love what I assumed to be a garbage-fueled car, always dug those since I was a kid.
ReplyDelete@John, you are correct. It's a toss-up whether I like the bubble cars in a previous flash or these garbage-fueled hovercars better.
ReplyDeleteA mailman's lot is not a happy one, and most of the post he delivers probably does go straight into the re-cycling, but hey ho, it pays the rent.
ReplyDeleteI loved the atmosphere in this story, nice one Aidan.
I love this world you've created - that watch grass is truly inventive! But I'm glad the postman is environmentally sound and recycles the junk.
ReplyDeleteHis stomach roiled like two-week-old yogurt.
ReplyDeleteGreat line. Love the idea of a dsytopic mailman, as well as the way in which the story moved from being more than a slice of life piece with the inclusion of Mr. Sheron. Well done.
@Steve, postal workers are particularly saddled with difficulties today seeing as almost all my mail is bills, rejection letters, and ads [and this time of year christmas cards... which I enjoy]. B.I. (before Internet) I remember fondly waiting for the mail.
ReplyDelete@Icy, thanks it was fun coming up with the details.
@Loren, Thank-you. The conflict is understated. I was pushing for the character arc change. I find that a particularly difficult part of the craft to achieve.
Very interesting world you have here. All the little futuristic touches are great, and the hints that something fouler is lurking whets the reading appetite. Malcolm is a great character, too.
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed this one!
Aidan, a nice and subtle twisted suburbia of the future. I like the contrast the mailman's humanity with what he is fighting against.
ReplyDelete@Gracie, glad you enjoyed the world.
ReplyDelete@Julio, thanks. I enjoyed trying to show Malcolm's struggle and viewpoint.
A great dystopia you have created.
ReplyDeleteAdam B @revhappiness
I keep wondering what's happened to that poor man!
ReplyDelete@Adam, thanks!
ReplyDelete@Ganymeder, good point; outside of Mr. Sheron explaining that he won't live there any longer he doesn't go into the details. Your welcome to any view you desire. Mine is that his relationship with his SO ended.
Hi Aidan - I like this. Something enjoyable about following a postman in a futuristic environment; it's like touring in an old collectable car. Liked the pace, Watch Grass, and the fact you have the SF on a low dial.
ReplyDeleteA little touch of humanity in a miserable and slightly scary near-future. It is done very subtly. I like the eco car- very Back To The Future (when Doc turns up at the end of Film One).
ReplyDelete@Stephen, I'll be sad if they ever bio-engineer watch grass; but I'd love to see it at the zoo. I like the analogy of touring in an old collectible car.
ReplyDelete@Justin, yes I had in mind the Delorean when I wrote this; although my imagination of the car looks quite different.