Lab C: Chapter 24 - Smashing Rocks

Crunch. Crunch. Big Crunch. Crunch. Lily rests placidly in the corner by an air vent.

John Grimsen liked smashing rocks. In another life, down his ancestral line, and in his dreams, he worked simple physical labor.

He liked the idea of using your hands to create something, solely for the purpose of it existing. No one needed to see it. No one needed to really benefit from it especially, except they suddenly had a floor. Or a wall. Or something.

It was something anyone with two hands could theoretically do. Despite our personal beliefs, most people could fell a tree. Most people could put up a wall, or tear one down. The better technology gets, the more anyone could use their own flesh and blood to accomplish amazing things.

Of course, he thought, you were more inclined to one thing or another. Just because you could break down a wall doesn’t mean you’re supposed to break them down. Just because you have the potential doesn’t mean you need to live up to it. Anyone of flesh, bone and will can do most anything, but it isn’t necessarily their place to.

In fact, the only things you are meant to do are the things that you did do, because you did them, and so they must have happened that way. They happened that way, so they must have happened that way. There is no possibility of something else having happened because that is the way it happened. So there is only a 100% of the past having happened the way it did.

That’s it.

These are just the passive thoughts John had while he smashed the chunks of concrete that Chuck had created when he threw John’s body through the wall. Looking at how large the hole had become, as gravity and entropy took their hold, John smirked knowing he would have to probably need to break more of the wall away before he could move into fixing the space, if he was lucky enough to get to that step.

Surely, it would be easy, to find the right person to call, figure out the perfect tool, or hell, maybe there was even a creature in this place that could vomit concrete into perfect specifications. No. John wanted to work with his hands for a while as he thought about nothing.

It kept him zen for a time, but thoughts do come creeping in. No matter how glorious the flow, at some point you shift gears down just a fraction of an effort and free’s up some brain RAM, or you amp up a bit too much and your body cries for help, and the thoughts slip in. It was within him to allow all the thoughts to slip by without judgement, but he wasn’t ready to give those thoughts this treatment.

One time, while subduing a troll which global warming had unearthed from a forgotten section of Norway, John and Chuck were sent to bring it in alive. While scouring the mountains for the troll, who ended up being pretty chill about the whole thing, a blizzard rolled in that should have killed John.

Chuck, in his mega zen sage wisdom meditated through the whole ordeal, which allowed John to discover which of the rocks of Chuck’s skin could be used to create sparks big enough to start a fire. They both survived, and he never told Chuck he used him like that.

Another time, John was taking a “meditation” (nap) by Chuck’s “living quarters” (containment cell). It was a half meditation, half excuse to get some shut eye. Chuck slipped out of the cell and corrected John on his breathing form and guided him through a process he had learned from a yogi who had lived to be hundreds of years old Chuck said.

John later found that same technique on a youtube video while pooping, but it had no where near the same gravitas or power that it had held when Chuck explained it. In fact, following the video in comparison to following what Chuck had told him wielded wildly different results and feelings. Something about Chuck’s knowledge resonated and settled deeper than any video or book he had found.

A hunk of stone comes free from the boulder John has been working on. He smirks.

Chuck had also tried to kill John many times. Perhaps not kill. Chuck probably could have killed John in a flash without even a seconds thought, but where’s the fun in that?

He smashes the hunk that came free into smaller hunks. From over up against the wall, Lily picks up her head and sniffs that air. She give’s that cutest, “ruf” and looks towards the entrance. John follows her sight to see Dr. Tesla appear a moment later with his hands on his head, dramatically showing his exasperation for the situation, his tablet dangling from loose, tired fingers.

“There’s STILL no crew?!” Dr. Tesla stands at the hole in the wall, baffled.

John looks at him, narrows his eyes. “Give me your tablet.”

“John it’s been HOURS! How is there still no crew?! Are you really going to do this whole thing BY. YOUR. SELF?!”

John goes up and snatches the tablet from him. His face by passes the password, to Dr. Tesla’s saddened shock. John deletes every app on the tablet aside from email, navigation, directory, and notes.

“Go get some real rest. I do not want to see you until you’re rested.”

Dr. Tesla rolls his head, but does as he’s told. John shakes his head, that is probably exactly what Dr. Tesla had secretly been hoping for.

As he watched Dr. Tesla slouch away, thoughts crept in. The sight of Chuck’s smiling face and collapsed throat. He clenches his eyes tightly, scrunches his face, wills away the demons and wanders back to the mess. Taking a deep breath, he pushes the thoughts to his shoulders, his lats, and brings down the sledge hammer. It crunches in a chunk.

He let memories come and go as they do. He doesn’t react. He just keeps smashing chunks of concrete. The guard behind the counter would glance over, but had nothing to say.

Something comes up in his mind, and John has to stop. He looks down at his hands and they’re blistered, bloodied.

He looks to the Guard Behind the Counter, “Hey can I get some gloves?”

The guard behind the counter tosses him a pair. John takes a deep breath, and goes back to smashing. One strike though, and he grimaces. He puts the sledge hammer side down and leans on it like a cane.

He closes his eyes and grits his teeth. From directly behind him, Lily growls. Her upper lips pull up, her teeth peaking through the strands of white fur that dangle like a beard from her maw.

John glances down to her, then to the entrance where, oh so casually, a Jessica Rabbit looking brunette in a deep purple jump suit with pink stitching, feeling absolutely designer compared to everyone else’s outfits.

“Hey.” She says. She oozes sultry.

“Christine.”

“I saw on the news that you killed Chuck. Thought you might need an ear.” She smiles warmly.

John shrugs it off.

“Or maybe a hand? I’m good with my hands.”

“Sure. Glad I filled that second request.”

John looks back to the Guard behind the counter. The guard behind the counter stands up straight, “Just on time, here you are miss.” He produces a normal sledge for her, she thanks him with a wide, deep curtsy-ish bow. She stands, rolling her back up in a way that arches her back in a way that would dazzle if John had been looking.

Instead, John bites his lip as he looks at a weird hunk of concrete. He ponders it deeply.

She stands too close to John, his breath deepens and he clenches his jaw. His checks turn a shade more rosey. Lily growls quietly and sniffs her. She growls more, John looks back at Lily and she huffs before going back to her spot. She lays down but she watches Christine like a hawk.

“Goodness John, where in the world do you even start?” Christine says.

“Where ever you don’t think you’ll bounce off.” He picks up his sledge and spins it in an arc that lands it into the underside, bopping it in just the right space so that it splits in half.

Christine leans on her sledgehammer. Ponders him. “So what was it that finally broke the camels back?”

“Christine.” He looks at her. “I decided I would much rather have space right now.”

“Okay! Can I just stay here then? Like, watch? Honestly, I’m already all hot just looking at you.” She pulls down her zipper. She might be wearing a bra, or maybe her tits are just that perky.

He squints his eyes, staring right into her left pupil.

“I can smell you.”

She lifts her eyebrows, takes a moment. Then deflates. She’s hurt by this, but also understanding.

“Sure. I get it.” And she leaves, defeated.

John waves the air around him and takes in a deep breath of fresh air. His focus lands on the darkness obfuscating the unknown ceiling. “I have to figure out, how to get out of here.” He clenches his eyes, takes another breath of fresh, unfree air, and brings the hammer down.

It bounces off and out of his hands, scattering behind him. His watch beeps. He checks it and smirks. “Alright. Break time.” He finds a spot next to Lily and sits up against the wall. He closes his eyes and puts a hand on her. She takes a big stretch and he can pet her in real long strokes up and down her belly.

“God damn I love you dog.” He says, watching the way her fur moves under his hands. She looks up at him through bushy eyebrows doing puppy math of some kind.

He leans on the wall and looks at her. His hands stops, resting on her inflating and deflating ribs, as his eyes close and he knocks out.

As he naps, a food truck run by guards appears and sets up shop outside. The clank and clatter of them setting up wakes up Lily, who wakes up John. He looks back, and the Guards wearing aprons wave to him. He waves back smiling.

Just confirming, they do not see Lily.

John people watches with a smile as people in jumpsuits appear and make a line. Business picks up and John feels pride for his coworkers.

As people walk by to line up, they see John and smile awkwardly. He smiles and waves back and they hurry up. Some of them avoid his eye contact completely. Some see him and turn around to where they came from. A few fan boy/girl but keep a respectful distance.

Everyone just seems to know him.

He gets up, wiping off his pants and black lab coat, and heads to the back of the line. As he passes people, he notices each and every personalized detail they have added. Pins, patches, etc, but doesn’t comment.

He walks past a brown, jump suited guy, bigger then him with a bald head and Lily sniffs him. John notices and stops.

“Hey man, I like your head. Did you shave before you got here?”

“Oh, hi John. Uh… yeah.”

“No it’s just a trip. My style totally changed when I got in here. Like I was a different person. I feel like you…” he looks over, really takes him in. He looks down and notices his hands are lightly scared with burns and knicks. “Were you a chef on the outside?”

The bald headed, brown jump suited guy smirks. “Yeah, how’d you uh..”

“Oh man, I tried cooking carbonara this one and I got real adventurous with my tosses and doused my hand in bacon fat.. or… what do you call the meat you use for it. Guanchaley?”

“Guanciale.”

“YES! Yeah, that. I had chopped it up super small but some reason when I went to flip it, it just bounced or something and oil splattered all over my hand.” John laughs, “sorry, your hand just reminded me of that.”

“Yeah! Yeah, that happens a lot. See, you just gotta do this little move,” and he flip his wrist a bit, demonstrating the proper food flipping technique. “See that little flick there?”

“Woah, you’re like an awesome teacher. Yeah, I see that.” John mimics him.

“Hah! You got it. Say, do people ever get kitchens in here?”

“Absolutely. The way I think about it…” John takes a moment, looking up to the ceiling again, then straight into the man’s eyes, “It’s super overwhelming to come here. It’s necessary, I think, considering how many of us get here from going through reality breaking stuff,”

“Man you’re telling me. I killed 6 people, well I killed 1 and then 5 people who kept coming in while I was trying to clean it up,”

“No! See! Exactly! Like, you need some time and space to yourself to figure that out. SO if they just give you some big fancy place, you can’t face your shit and bury it under activity. What I’ve noticed, is, as you come to terms and adapt, forgive, or however you need to overcome what got you here,”

A person behind them pipes up, “It took me so many sleeps to stop seeing my grandma’s face screaming at me from on top of the shape shifted skin.”

“That! Yes! And if you had just stared at video games or something it would have taken, SO MANY MORE sleeps to get over that.” The guy behind them nods. John turns back to the bald man in the brown jumpsuit.

“So!” John continues, “You will totally be able to get a kitchen in your living quarters. Just give it time.”

“How long did it take you John?” Another person asked. John looks at the ground, taps his foot.

“I gotta be honest ya’ll…” He looks at them with a big cheeky smile, showing off his three missing teeth, “I can not for the life of me remember. Who knows why!” Moving his head to make his smile dance side to side. The people who are listening in laugh.

“But what I can say, is the first bit was rough. You don’t know what’s gonna happen. You don’t know where you’ll go. And yeah…” his demeaner drops, “people disappear…” everyone gets solemn. John picks up again, “But then again I never ended a job with the same crew I started it with. Fucking, every 4 months at Sonic’s, we had like 3 new people and a different manager so,” he shrugs, “I guess that’s just part of life ain’t it?”

Everyone nods. John comes in close to the bald guy in the brown jump suit, “Say, I bet you got a pretty good nose huh?”

All charmed, the bald guy smiles, “Well uh, yeah, yeah I guess so.”

“That’s really cool man, what are they cooking over there? Can you tell?”

As if spurred by the compliment, the bald man in the brown jump suit sniffs the air. “Definitely toasting bread. And there’s italian seasonings. Pork.”

“Hell yeah! Dope. Thank you man.” John puts out a hand to shake. Some of the people around shrink down, watching like it’s a car wreck. The bald man in the brown jump suit shakes his hand with a smile. “I really hope you enjoy your lunch friend. It was awesome meeting you.”

“Awesome meeting you too John.” And the bald man just smiles as John walks further down the line which has double in size.

Lily sniffs another person, and John has a similar interaction that leaves the person feeling great.

Another, but this person is dismissive and ignores john.

Another who just laughs nervously and tries to cover their fear.

Another, whose dismissive.

When John finally gets to the end of the line, he rocks back and forth on his feet. 3 of the 5 people John talked to, the nervous, the first dismissive, and the bald man in the brown jumpsuit get a message requesting their presence somewhere.

The nervous one breaks down into tears and screams in hysterics. “He picked me! I was picked! JOHN GRIMSEN! HE PICKED ME! I WAS PICKED! ME ME ME ME!” People watch as guards show up and drag them away.

“THANKS GRIMSEN! THANKS! THANKS! THANKS! GRIMSENNNN! GGGRRRIIMMSSEEENNNN!” they scream as they’re dragged away.

John smiles a fake empty smile and started at the calves of the person in front of him. Lily rubs up against him and he pets the hard part of her nose with his finger. Before he knows it, he’s at the front of the line. The guard has to get his attention, but the second he does, John shakes off the funk and is back to his happy go lucky self.

John orders a spicy Italian sandwich after double checking they have the shredded lettuce and actual spicy pepperoni. He watches them pull out freshly baked loaves of Italian bread that immediately get gutted and then toasted.

Bright red, glistening slices of pepperoni are laid upon a light trail of mayo upon the crunchy bread. Followed by salami with the peppercorns visible in it’s flesh. A perfect line of pepperoncini’s is laid down the center, then covered by slices of provolone just pungent enough to break through warm glowing smell of toasting bread. The paper thin shredded lettuce and onions are pilled high. Fat slices of tomato find a happy home atop that. The guard making his sandwich grabs a squirt bottle but John stops them to ask for the tomatoes on the side with a bit of mayo. They do it. Then they douse the rest in a house vinaigrette, with lil flakes of basil and black pepper in it. The crunchy crust crackles as the sandwich is wrapped into such a perfectly dense sub, it could stop a bullet. John declines chips as he takes his sandwich and side of tomatoes with a sprinkle of that fine pepper and mayo on them, but he does take an extra large matcha lemonade to go.

As he walks back into his work zone, John wonders if that sandwich shop he went to every Friday in college was still open, and quickly re-accepted that he would never find out. He says a quick mental prayer that they are still there.

John people watches some more as the never ending line is processed. He eats the whole ass sandwich that could have easily been three meals.

The guard at the wheel gets a message and nods. He turns on the truck, and they take off. The jumpsuits left kick dirt and wander off. It’s quiet. Feels like night, but the lights have not changed at all. John breaks the peace by patting his full belly and groaning satisfaction to the world.

John pulls out a note book from inside his coat and makes some notes, then takes a nap.

At the sound of Lily’s grow, John opens his eyes and Christine is there again, leaning up against the wall on the outside of the Special Requisition Requests Room. She’s now wearing a pink jumpsuit, with the shoulders down, and a pink tank top.

John smirks, shakes his head. He gets up and goes back to his sledge hammer. Moving it side to side in his hands, he just plays around with it to warm himself back up.

“That was rude earlier.”

“And true.” John rebukes. “But I can handle your smell now. You may come in.”

She pops up and does a damn cute pose as she walks in.

“It was round 8 right?"

“Yep.”

“Let me guess what happened,” she waits for John’s permission, then rolls her eyes when he just patiently waits, “he found out about Steve Jobs?”

“What are you talking about?”

She squints and smiles at him, picking up her sledge hammer and leaning on it again. She makes like an A shape with it.

She starts, “He’s probably coming back at some point.”

“Oh yeah, his spirit was dduurraabbllee… but, I’m not sure. I don’t really want to ever be sure about this.”

"Ol John, just let go of something at the drop of a hat.”

He shrugs, and swings into the concrete, his hammer breaks. He looks around and it could very well have been exactly how he started, the mess of concrete chunks is just a complete mess. Nothing John has done, has really helped, however, in his eyes, it is much more manageable.

As he walks to the counter, “I figure we just break this down back into dust, then we’ll have the exact same amount of concrete. We soak it when it’s a dust and just reuse the same concrete to reform the place. You go look for any of the dust we might miss.”

She looks at him, “No.”

“Welp, when you think of a better plan.” John returns from the counter with a sledge hammer with a rune in it. He grips it crackles with lightning, but just a little bit. Not that much.

She looks up to the ceiling and gives it a big think. “Nope.”

He swings and the rock crumbles into much smaller chunks with a much lighter smash.

“So… can we talk about the room?”

“I broke it fighting Chuck, I also broke these.” He smiles at her to show off his missing teeth. He stops smiling and smacks a softball sized chunk with a lackadaisical arc, it shatters into pebbles, which are still larger than he needs.

“Sure but, I thought you had to submit a form in triplicate a week in advanced to get anything.”

“I did.”

She can’t help but laugh, “No shot. Shut the fuck up.”

“No seriously,” he nods the guard behind the counter, '“show her.”

The guard behind the counter holds up forms in a weird way that makes it impossible to tell what’s on them. He leans in, “Look at that, four weeks ago. I didn’t even realize I had these.” Then puts them down as Christine tries to get a better look.

She rolls her eyes, and groans. “How do you know what to do all the time?! It’s not fair.”

“I’m just kinda magic I guess.”

“Well can I help you rebuild it? Please?”

“You haven’t hit a rock yet.” He says, and taps a knee high boulder into baseball sized pieces.

“John…” She holds her normal ass sledge hammer. “What the fuck John?”

“You had to submit for it.”

The guard behind the counter holds up a pair of pink gloves. “This order just finished, here you go miss.”

She scowls at him, and then John. “GO fuck yourself. I want a cool hammer damn it.”

“I do not know, what to tell you. I submitted my forms. You should have known what you needed.”

“Honestly,” she holds her head up, distinguished like a Princess, “I just feel like, when I really need something, it’ll come to me.” Eyes closed, she catches the gloves as they come flying at her face,. She smirks, and puts them on, then smashes a baseball sized concrete ball with her hammer.

“Ohp, damn. You hit the wrong one. Sorry Christine, I feel like you might be slowing down this process.” He smirks, watches her hit.

“Shut up, I am working,” she says with a half smile. She arches her back a little looks at him, “Guess you must have wanted me to come here if you got gloves that match my outfit. Must have… imagined me in them.”

“I just thought I might want a change of style. You know. Not my fault we’re the same size.”

She drops her act and with all earnesty confronts him. “John. Can you please, just tell me anything?”

“Everything I know is public knowledge here.”

“Yeah, John? Yeah?” She addresses the guard behind the counter, “Hey sir, sir, hey excuse me, what’s your name?”

He thinks for a second, scratches his head through the full black hood and gas mask he’s wearing. “I haven’t thought about that in a long time, I’m not sure. John, do you know?”

John shrugs.

The guard behind the counter continues, “That’s a good name. Just like,” and he shrugs. “I like that. I’ma keep that. Thank you for my name, John.”