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I work with machines. Machines that make other machines. The machines I work with... make other machines. I mill dies to close tolerance. Dies that will be used in other machines. The machines I use to mill dies were themselves made by other machines. Who made those machines? Other machines? Or men? Who is the man who operates the machines that make the machines I operate to mill the dies? That's unimportant, if by "who" you mean his name and so forth. The only thing that matters is that this man has skill and ethics, which I rely on to do the job I was put here to do. Ethics? Yes: the discipline dealing with what is good and bad and with moral duty and obligation. The men who use the dies I mill rely on me to mill them with precision and love. In turn I rely on the men who make the machines I use to mill the dies. That is the good. There are those who would argue that it is my responsibility to know what use the dies I mill will serve. To them I say this: I followed an outgoing shipment of dies one evening at the end of my shift. The dies were counted and placed in a box. The box was wrapped in brown paper and loaded onto a small truck. I tailed the truck across town. When it got on the highway, so did I; when the truck carrying the dies I milled got off the highway, I did too. It stopped in front of a small home. The driver got out and removed the brown parcel. He took the parcel to the front door of the home and knocked (I can't tell you how many times). A young girl answered and took the parcel without word or payment. When the truck left, I got out of my vehicle and knocked on the door. The same girl answered, holding the parcel, now open, in her little hands. "You forgot this," I said, strangling her. She dropped the box and spilled the dies, but I retrieved them all after finishing with her. What is a machine? An assemblage of parts that transmist force, energy, or motion one to another in a predetermined manner? Maybe so, depends who wants to know. And who will police the policeman, you say? Fair enough, but let me ask you this: who will machine the machinist?

Date Written: September 06, 2005
Author: qualcomm
Average Vote: 4.21429

09/8/2005 Will Disney (4): thank you!
09/8/2005 Ewan Snow (5): What a dick. I think this would have been better without the murder. It sort of ruined the dull tone in a way. Terrific otherwise, though. If the site supported half stars, I'd give this a 4.5, but seeing as no such feature has yet been implemented, I'll be generous and provide five.
09/8/2005 Will Disney: i dunno, snow, i thought that killing part was pretty good.
09/8/2005 Ewan Snow: Oh.
09/8/2005 The Rid: I'm going to say that I didn't appreciate the killing, but I did appreciate this short's tone, particularly in the first paragraph.
09/8/2005 The Rid: In fact, this short reminds me very much of Chantel Ackerman's Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles.
09/8/2005 Ewan Snow: Oh, Rid, you didn't like the murder either. I guess I was wrong then.
09/8/2005 The Rid: Thanks, Snow. I can always count on you.
09/8/2005 Jon Matza (3.5): Too artsy/heady for this reidour; not enough pizzazz, in other words.
09/8/2005 TREE: What did you do with the dies after you retrieved them?
09/8/2005 Mr. Pony (4): I wasn't that excited by the dull tone, and I was glad when something happened. Reading parts of this I experienced a restlessness similar to the sensation of reading the last couple of paragraphs of "This is the House that Jack Built". All this sounds pretty negative, but I liked it more as the day went on.
09/8/2005 Klause Muppet (4):
09/8/2005 Litcube: Hrm. Not feeling this one yet. After my ordeal at 6:00 p.m. pacific time, in which I'll be subjected to numerous inquiries regarding the integrity of my character, personality, ethics, and competency, I'll revisit this document and perhaps etc.
09/9/2005 qualcomm: just give it what you want, you coward
09/9/2005 Mr. Pony: Did you pass your driving test?
09/9/2005 Litcube: Dude, while I cower before your mighty shillelagh of retard smiting as a retard should, this isn’t why I haven’t voted. I’m just contemplating your work. That’s all. I fear you. Don’t worry.
09/9/2005 Litcube: Please don't. Please stop yelling at me.
09/12/2005 The Rid (4):
09/12/2005 Jimson S. Sorghum (5):