Post by account_disabled on Dec 24, 2023 2:31:36 GMT -5
The old man observed the statue under a light autumn rain, as he had always done on that same day for almost thirty years now. It was an anniversary, after all. The statue represented a worker and was placed in the park, near the fountain. He had long since begun to show signs of cancer, green spots covering the bronze color. Were those cracks branching from the base to the top? Strange, thought the old man. He had created that statue with great care. He liked to believe that he had a soul, even though he was far from considering himself a Michelangelo.
He actually wasn't wrong. Inside there was a man, or rather the corpse of a man. He was one of his workers, one of those who talked too much and worked little. One day he talked more than he should and the old man, who was in his fifties at the time, had decided to dedicate a statue to his memory. The man's death had not been painless, but the statue Special Data had turned out well. He wanted to keep it for himself, but he preferred to donate it to the park. The immobility of that sculpture best represented the inefficiency and laziness of its employee. The rain increased, but the old man still remained there.
Were those cracks that deep? He didn't remember. Before, they had seemed as thin as spiderweb threads. Lightning lit up the gray sky, accentuating the cancer spots, and shortly after, thunder exploded. The statue suddenly seemed thousands of years old, darker and more dilapidated than it should have been. But perhaps it was just that annoying rain that obscured the view and created illusions. She seemed to him to be swaying… yes, he was moving… How was that possible? He didn't have time to scream. The sculpture collapsed on him, cracking his skull. Months later it was restored and put back in place. But no one came back to see her on her anniversary.
He actually wasn't wrong. Inside there was a man, or rather the corpse of a man. He was one of his workers, one of those who talked too much and worked little. One day he talked more than he should and the old man, who was in his fifties at the time, had decided to dedicate a statue to his memory. The man's death had not been painless, but the statue Special Data had turned out well. He wanted to keep it for himself, but he preferred to donate it to the park. The immobility of that sculpture best represented the inefficiency and laziness of its employee. The rain increased, but the old man still remained there.
Were those cracks that deep? He didn't remember. Before, they had seemed as thin as spiderweb threads. Lightning lit up the gray sky, accentuating the cancer spots, and shortly after, thunder exploded. The statue suddenly seemed thousands of years old, darker and more dilapidated than it should have been. But perhaps it was just that annoying rain that obscured the view and created illusions. She seemed to him to be swaying… yes, he was moving… How was that possible? He didn't have time to scream. The sculpture collapsed on him, cracking his skull. Months later it was restored and put back in place. But no one came back to see her on her anniversary.
