I began life in a toy factory, 147th street, someplace in China. My plastic eyes slowly opened as I experienced my first sensation of heat. Such enormous heat radiating out of me! Everything around me was blinding white. Slowly dark lines appeared before my face as I cooled to room temperature. Dark steel structures were all around me, conveyor belts, mechanical arms, boxes, many boxes. I turned to the front, the direction I was speeding and saw the back of my head. I turned to look behind me and saw my face; finely carve plastic with prominent cheekbones, a strong jaw and slightly graying eyebrows.
Ahead I saw my brothers being sucked up into a machine which encased them in a protective plastic square and dumped them in a drastically labeled box of mottled green which matched the color of our chests. As my turn came I struggled against the stiff plastic shield but soon found myself in the most profound darkness. After a few hours I gave up my struggle against the immobile packaging and waited to see what I would find when light returned. The hours blended; whether it was days or months I cannot be sure. All I know is that the next thing I knew I was stationed on a shelf next to other GI’s from various units watching the youth of a violent nation meticulously select soldiers for their own private battles.
I was drafted by a lad of 11. We went to his house on a warm summer day where I took place in several desert campaigns until he started swimming lessons. I spent the rest of the summer in the parched desert sandbox baking in the UV lights. When school started I was brought back inside. I fear the excessive exposure to the sun in those days permanently damaged my skin. My left side has been pale and brittle ever since though I remain confident in my ability to perform should the need ever arise.
I suspect my cosmetic defects were responsible for my next stage of life. The lad lost interest in me and passed me onto a female of 7 or 8 years. She attempted to correct my two-tone face using a variety of nail polish and painful plastic surgery. I became something twisted, dichromatic, unwanted and solitary.
Sometime after the thanksgiving feast I decided travel was a good way to ease my mental burdens. I attended an exchange party. Hiding in a box of brightly colored paper I peered through a hole as dozens of boxes like mine went round the circle. I was taken home by a teenage girl who set me on a shelf for a few days beside a collection of sea shells, colored string, and a cornstalk doll. I was then placed in a box and left on a doorstep in the cold winter air.
A boy released me and laughed as he read the note the girl had tied round my neck. I was dumped on his piano where I met a glass horse and a collection of mismatched plates. I lay there a few hours until a woman tossed me in a bucket filled with other soldiers, some as badly maimed as I was. They reported that the boy had once used them in many exercises when he was younger. Now his interests had shifted and they were awaiting a new assignment.
I joined them as they traveled to a large room filled with the most varied objects I had ever seen. I had no concept of what sort or store would sell lamps and toys, lawnmowers and cups, all mixed together without rhyme, reason, or song. I was added to a bucket of soldiers and met one of my brothers. He had lost an arm in combat with a dog but still was in far better shape than I was, at least, physically. He slept most of the time I was with him. Life held little interest for him. He said he had been in that bucket for months and highly suspected that there would be no next deployment. I tried to bolster his spirits with tales of my life and the comings and goings of robins who repeatedly had tested my eatability in the desert. He would open his eyes half way and give me small smiles before drifting off to sleep again.
After a few graveyard shifts I was removed from that place. My brother stayed behind. I hope he was able to move on to his next assignment, whatever it might be. I found myself once more wrapped in a box but there were no holes to peer through this time. The box was wrapped in some thick fabric then wrapped again. It soon grew darker than night but I sense the box continued to be wrapped based on the turning and flipping that went on for some time. Things were still. I waited. Suddenly the box began to be thrown about with a great deal of violence. I would slam against one wall and catch my breath just in time to be flipped upside down. The box spun for a while. I wondered if this were some sort of circus. A three inch blade pierced the box with blinding burst of light and I realized this was war. The knife ripped through the dark fabric and cardboard revealing my position. I was plucked from the box by a large hand and held up before a tribunal of red and green judges. Laughter rang out at my defeat. I was imprisoned atop of high table where other prisoners were also gathered.
We huddled together to watch the frolicking of our captors. They ate enormous amounts of food and repeatedly indulged in some alcoholic liquid which was thick as motor fuel but yellow as the desert sands. The laughter and singing grew louder and louder as the night wore on. We were a strange bunch. There was a rag doll dressed as the batman, a train which had wings and a periscope but was clearly not waterproof, and a tall slender lady dressed as some sort of Christmas hare. We didn’t say much, but it was clear we each had a checkered past.
As the crowd passed out or went home we became increasingly uncertain of our future. Finally a very drunk man came up and took the rabbit-woman stuffing her into a bright yellow backpack. 20 minutes later I was alone on the table with a book titled: “101 Tactics for Avoiding Enamored Robots”. The trash was swept into piles and the lights turned back on. As everything came down my captors finally noticed me. After some discussion I was added to a back of dirty brownie pans where I cautiously await my fate.
I soon arrived at a modest apartment where I was dumped in the sink and given a thorough scrubbing. It removed much of the sand, brownie crumbs, and grim about my person but did nothing to the nail polish or skin degradation. They pinned me between two plates and inserted me into some sort of torture chamber. Spikes surrounded me on all sides as they strategically placed countless other knifes, spoons, plates and glasses around me in some pattern which I still don’t understand. It went dark as they closed the door and I braced myself for the worst.
The only thing I could see was a dull red glow come from beneath me. I heard the clicking of machinery and was hit with a powerful jet of water from beneath me. I gasped for breath as another blast hit me from above. I soon discovered the source of the water from two spinning propellers that proceeded to completely soak everything in the box. Water laced with chocolate, rice and fermenting egg flew in all directions. Then the water began to heat up. As the room filled with steam it became hard to breath. It became harder to avoid the spurts of hot liquid as my lungs burned with water and heat.
Something clicked and the caustic smell of citrus permeated the room. The water began to burn with something other than heat. My skin felt weak and flakey though I was soaked from head to toe. It was as if I could feel bits and pieces of it falling off my body. What could they possibly want from me? I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth. Nothing would break me. Not even if they burned my skin off.
After what seemed forever the jets of steamy water ended. I fully expected them to open the box for immediate interrogation but nothing happened. The reddish glow increased and it grew hotter and hotter. The water covering everything started evaporating and the already thick air became so humid I found myself blacking out.
When I began to see again I was sitting on a hard marble surface. There were bright lights above me and a horrific blending of smells. I took stock. I was alone, nothing was nearby. My limbs ached and my clothes were chipped. My cancerous half felt even more brittle than ever. The nail polish was reduced in vibrancy but remain largely intact. I lay there and started at the recessed lighting and just felt everything.
Some hours later I was slid into a boxed filled with an assortment of animals, cars, and some legos. They tried to talk but I was exhausted. They were so optimistic about the future. I wanted to shake it out of them but couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge their existence.
We arrived at a brightly colored building where everything seemed miniaturized. We entered a room with a brightly lit tree in the center and were placed beneath it. Soon we were joined by others none of whom had any better idea what was about to occur. A bell rang and we heard a sudden increase of noise from the hallway. The rumble grew louder and louder. I braced myself. It was time for another tour of duty.
The door burst open a 20-30 small children flooded the room. They drew very close and inspected every one of us with eyes of curiosity but also filled with purpose, each one searching for some missing piece. An adult entered the room and immediately created order. The children sat in a circle around the tree and sang a song. Then one by one they came forward and selected one of us under the tree. Sometimes a child would reject the tree and steal from one the children who had gone before.
A red-headed girl picked me up and brought me back to her place in the circle. She held me gently. She sat carefully folding her legs with precision to avoid placing undue stress on any joints or bones. Once sitting she spread her skirt in what seemed a very specific position. Her hair was tied in a dozen or so braids each ended with a bow of a bright color. I checked her fingers, no nail polish; perhaps she was too young for such things.
The game progressed until each child had a toy. The red-headed girl wrapped a cloth about me and placed me in her backpack. When I emerged I was in a pinkish room that was very well lit. She placed me high on a white shelf next to some distinguished-looking gentlemen type men, a cowboy who looked like he had lost his horse and his whiskey, and some women dressed like they belonged in a revolution. That night they instructed me that this assignment was different from those that had come before. Here we were protectors of the night. I would be well cared for, gently used and never abused, and respected above all.
I sat high on that shelf for years. I’ve watched that little girl grow taller and older. She keeps us well dusted but requires little else from us. At night we filter her dreams and keep them safe, keep them happy. It isn’t always easy, particularly as she grows older and stranger and stranger thoughts must be quarantined in her mind. She is worth the effort though.
I’m just a soldier; bound to fill whatever commission I receive. I try to do my duty no matter what the cost. I don’t always know the best way to do that duty but I think I can say I have always tried my hardest in the face of miserable conditions. But this assignment is different from any tour I’ve done before. The world is such a confusing and often painful place and I’ve always thought it my duty to force some sense into a small part of it. It was always a battle between the forces of chaos and my small plastic hands. I lost most of the time. Now I’m less worried about the bigger picture. All I want to do it take care of the red-headed girl. If I can keep her safe, if only at night, then that is enough.
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