Crowd Control

A sound like a great trumpet blaring was carried on the brisk wind. At first, I thought it to be coming from one the many steel birds that carried passengers across the sky, but it did not fade and continued in its adulated roar from some unseen location.

I craned my head from the balcony of my modest, multi-family habitation, but it was impossible to discern its location, even by sound, for its wail was caught between the smooth gray exterior walls of the near by dwelling places.

My only assumption was that a great labor was underway, utilizing a mechanical workhorse; and that the sound only seemed loud after the languid silence of a winter that was just ending.

I stood there a moment, curiosity bristling an energy in me to go find the source of the sound. It had been a long time since anything had changed in the surrounding environment I called home. Too long I had seen the same scenery and talked with the same people.

I lingered unreasonably long and the sound began to fade. With disappointment, I sat down on a small stool and looked out across the courtyard between buildings. Even if I were to search it out now it would be impossible to locate its origin. Numerous mechanical beasts lay silent about the town too economically depressed to even pack them up and put them away.

Without warning, the beast roared to life again. This time its noise was accompanied by voices, loud and urgent. The intensity in them rose and with it a sense of panic. It was impossible for me to discern what they were saying over the roar of the machine, but to my understanding, they seemed to have lost control of it.

This time I did not hesitate. I ran into my home, then bounded down my front steps, but as I reared the corner of my dwelling place and was about to cross the courtyard covered in brown grass still wet with melting snow, I stopped.

What heroic or helpful act could I preform once I reached the source of the sound? I knew nothing of the metal creatures that tore down or built up our world. I would only be there as a bystander, gawking and murmuring about the situation as though it were merely a form of entertainment.

I loathed people like that almost as much as I did the people who had not the boldness to make their nosiness obvious, and peered between closed curtains or lingered in darkened doorways, silently observing someone else’s drama.

Still my legs strove to pull me in the direction of the chaos. And it was by great effort that I stayed my ground, listening intently for anything that might give me a better understanding of the situation, and thus strengthen my resolve to either go toward it, or turn back and try to ignore the calamity that now drummed within my breast.

Just then, several neighbors appeared from the other side of the building. I recognized one of them and ran up to him. “Do you know what’s going on?” I asked Dorian, a young man in his mid twenties. His usual jovial features had taken on an air of seriousness.

“I’m not sure.” He answered, his face creased with concern. “Albert, my friend from next door works at that building site.” He let his voice trail off. Then he looked at me with strained urgency, “I received a message from him earlier today, everything seemed fine, but then just a moment ago while he was taking a break he messaged me again, it was cut short, and I heard in the background someone screaming as though in pain.” With this, he bounded across the courtyard catching up with the other neighbors.

Without thinking further on the subject, I ran after him. On the other side of the courtyard was a row of buildings that housed a small shop of basic supplies and a tavern. The commotion I was hearing was coming from the other side. As the small crowd of neighbors ran toward it, I stopped once again. I was torn between finding out what was going on and being part of the on-lookers who were most likely only getting in the way.

After a trice of awkwardly looking back at the direction I came from and forward toward the tumult, I turned the corner to behold the scene for myself.

The crowd had been steadily increasing and now they had the scene surrounded so that seeing anything besides the shabby clothed residence that populated this area was almost impossible.

What I could make out from my vantage point was the fat hind end of the beast that was now jutting into the air. In front of me was an older couple talking in voices not too quiet. “From what I heard they rested the machine on the hill above the work zone. Its wheels apparently were not set safely and it began to roll toward the people working below. I heard some of those working in the area are still trapped beneath the thing.”

I squeezed between the crowd, after all I was already here, might as well see for myself.

I got close enough to make out more of the view. The beast was now howling in resistance, as those that operated it tried to force it back out of the excavation site it was now stuck in. Its large body was heaved forward and off balance. The enormous bucket lined with sharp teeth that its long arms held, was biting into the hard dirt on the other side of the pit.

There was another beast trying to make its way through the crowds, with the hope it could assist in dislodging the jaws that kept the other from being removed from the hole.

Looking around at the growing crowd that only seemed to hinder the operation, I was surprised at the number of people that were there already.

I turned my back on the situation. It looked to me like an endeavor that could carry on well into the night. But I knew now with certainty what my place in all this was.

With my heart racing at the urgency but my mind at peace, I made my way back home to contact my captain. I was a security officer after all and crowd control was one of my duties, though hardly ever assigned, if ever the job was needed, it would be now, and the sooner the better. This would finally be my time to shine.