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Blurry, smeared features sank and melted apart, continuously forming anew. Faces were perceivable, but indiscriminate, as if they weren’t meant to be looked at quite so closely. Its glossy skin stretched over a pair of arms and legs at least twice as wide as the head that accompanied them, contorted towards a boxy torso which itself supplemented a naked, sexless groin. The blank box it had come in was splayed out beneath it, an instruction manual nowhere to be seen. Layers of plastic were mostly pulled loose, save for remaining piled shreds, almost leaving the impression of a nest.
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Until very recently, I worked for a company that manufactures parts for large medical equipment. For my own anonymity, I’m going to keep the details vague– all you really need to know is that I worked with big chunks of metal in a relatively small factory in the middle of nowhere.
I’ve been in the metalworking field for quite a while at this point, and I’ve seen my fair share of industrial accidents over the years. I’ve long since come to terms with the fact that an occasional gnarly gash or painful abrasion is par for the course in my line of work. In fact, almost all of my coworkers at that factory had endured some kind of minor injury in their career– all except for one.
One of my former coworkers was this guy called Lawrence. He was a loner, mid-thirties, and quiet to the point of being antisocial. Although he didn’t really engage with us other guys, he was pleasant enough. Never rude or anything like that, but not particularly friendly either. People still tried to joke around with him all the time, though– mainly about the fact that he seemed to never get hurt, or even react to things that should be painful. It became a running joke of sorts that he was “indestructible”. I think people were trying to encourage him to socialize, but it ended up annoying him more than anything else. Generally, he tolerated the joke with a wry sort of grace.
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