For the gate is wide
and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many.
(this short story/character background is set on @senshi76‘s Heaven Machine setting, read more about it here)
They sit around the fire, talking about their old friends at the mine. Remember when Elijah accidentally stepped into the women’s bathhouse? Or when Esther brought fresh fruit from the next city over to share with all of them after her wedding? The next moment she notices they are tapping on her hand with a certain rhythm, a certain cadence. She gently interlaces her fingers with theirs.
“Hanan, please be a dear and go find something to feed the fire. It’s starting to get cold.”
They sign to her in agreement and stand up, walking into the dark of the ruins. She needs not worry, nothing will ever harm them, no matter how deep they go into the Machine.
She can’t hear them, but she is sure they’re humming.
—
When Sarai was fifteen a badly-timed explosion at the mine left her deaf. A constant hum in her ears and little else. Some people considered it a blessing. Her parents considered it a curse when she was sent to work at the outskirts of the city, where among coal sometimes you could find golden cogs and pieces of machinery.
She slowly started noticing the changes people suffered. They were slow and not as dramatic as she had seen on some of the Apostles that travelled through the city. Someone would start singing and everyone would shut them up, she would find a woman with her gaze lost into one of the tunnels, someone would be working for hours with a smile on their face and not notice the huge gash on their arm, eyes too bright, fingers too long…
Many of them were transferred elsewhere before she got to see what happened next.
Hanan arrived to cover one of these vacancies. They said the Apostle that had taken them there had died on the way. They didn’t seem extremely affected by the loss. But no one minded. How could they? Hanan was charming, cheery and hard-working. They brought a different light with them into their sector. In just a few months they had become everyone’s friend. When they sang, everyone followed. They even learned sign language to be able to talk to her, faster than anyone had.
And she fell for them. Of course she did. For hair that looked like woven gold and amber eyes that shone in the few hours of sun they got during the day? And the warm smile and that… general charm? How couldn’t she? Maybe if she had paid more attention she would have noticed why they spent so much time with her, or how their signs had a cadence very similar to dancing, the same cadence as when they tapped words on her hands, or the same cadence as when they actually danced.
Sarai eventually came around to it. Maybe too late, who knows? But she started noticing the amount of people being transferred or outright going missing after Hanan arrived. She started paying attention to their mannerisms. She started seeing the meaning behind their words. When they sang, everyone followed.
Oh God, when they sang, everyone followed.
Sarai knew she had to take them away from other people. The thought of telling a supervisor never went through her head. She started asking Hanan about the Machine, about the Angels. She expressed how she wanted to see it, to go outside where the sun shines on the gilded surface of the Machine for more than two hours a day. They planned their escape as if they were eloping.
And the moment they were far enough from civilization she pointed her gun at them.
“I know what you’re doing,” she said. “And let me tell you it’s not for you to decide. I don’t know for how long, but I’m still my own person. Do you understand?”
She couldn’t be sure if they were telling the truth. But she wasn’t going to leave them behind. In any case, she had always wondered what was outside her small mining town. And the Machine was no danger to Hanan.
How to change someone that was already following Its Plan?
—
It’s not cold. She lied. She hasn’t felt cold in a while. Or tired. Or hungry.
Yet Hanan still makes them stop and still brings her food and makes sure she drinks. She wonders why.
It’s tragic in a sense. They have never lied to her and have always been completely honest in that they believe this is for the best. That they want for her what they can never be. That they want her to live forever or to, quite literally, go to Heaven.
She scratches the palms of her hands and looks at them, searching for bumps or slits, but there’s nothing yet.
Sometimes her back hurts and when Hanan runs their hands over it to soothe her she can feel the riges of her bones getting sharper. She stretches and leans back against the rock.
When the nephilim comes back she smiles when they do. At least, for now, she is safe. Safer than anyone else traversing the Machine, she believes.
And sometimes when they dance, she follows.
[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts ;u;]