The campers sat by the fire silently while the wind howled through the trees. As the crackling flames flew into the air they looked deeply into it, trying to probe its mysteries with their eyes, wondering why it only seemed to feed off lifeforms and not things that were inanimate. If fire had been an invention of Satan’s, neither of them would have been surprised. It spread over its victims wildly and dangerously; as untamed as a lion on the hunt, destroying things in its path. The sparks that ignited from the wood were carried by the wind that blew across its mane, and in their embers the words of their stories became embedded, causing their dreams, laments, and darkest secrets to be strewn across the mountain, as the stories of others had so many times before. They drifted up out of the fire and into the night with every bit of enigmatic motion that the stars above seemed to revolve around the Earth with. Their lights burned with a ferocity that was dangerous to the campers who’d told them, and if anyone should become struck by their lingering lights they’d flinch from the pain they could inflict, as if pounded by Vulcan’s hammer and forged into something else. The embers of their stories drifted up into the dizzying heights of the mountain, swirling through its frosty accord with the blanket of night before settling on its soil in ashes that were bathed by the moonlight. Not one of the campers could have known this was happening, for their minds were set apart in worlds divided by the boundaries of fact and fable. Entranced by the stories of their friends, all they could do was listen to the fire’s breath, wondering if it had already known what their stories were; that it may have already known every single story that man has ever told, or ever will tell....
“Before I was a farmer I was a workin’ man. I had twelve jobs in ten years and by golly I was the best son of a bitch at all of em’. This jack a’ all trades could make even the most experienced workers look like baby bawlin’ rookies. ‘Course, nothin’ could prepare me for the toughest job on this side a’ the Mason-Dixon line- package handlin’ for the Big Brown, them Hands Across ‘Merica, that good ole United Parcel Service. Shit, it wasn’t that the job was all that hard but ya see they gots this special benefit where they pay you up to three thousand in cash for college ever’ year until you graduate, which came as a good way to challenge all them energetic youngsters achin’ to pay their way through it. So it’s more competitive than the average job, ya see?
“I never went to no college but that didn’t stop me. Oh, I worked mah rear end off like mah life was about end. An’ let me tell you this boy could sweat too, whoa! My’s forehead was always aglow with the oils o’ labor. Damn near thought I pissed meself when I first saw all the sweat drained down through my shorts. Well I tell ya what, sweat like that’s gonna bother ‘lotta folks, but not Randy Walker. I was a sweatin’ like the Devil in white hot Hell but I payed it no mind and just kept on liftin’ those boxes an’ chuggin’ down that two litre bottle o’ water I brought to work ever’ day.
“Two weeks in an’ I was already stronger an’ faster than the rest of those rusty ol’timers, and even doin’ a better job than all them youngsters in school. I’ll be damned if there wasn’t one of us impressed by what I’s able to do. Ev’n the manager showed his ‘mazement by not gettin’ up in my face about misloads like he done with all the other rookies. Yay, that man’ger was a’ scared that he’d get his job taken away, ‘cos he knew this man had potential to ascend the ranks of those delegatin’ scum faster than he ever could. Well by golly, you know what that bastard did ta’ me? Made me think I was doin’ a good job. Yep, sent me all over the building floatin’ around, learnin’ new positions quicker than any a’ them’d ever seen before. By the third week I was already unloadin’ and sortin’ boxes on both the sort aisle and box lines. Hell I even knew smalls, which was somethin’ even some veteran hands never got a’hold on. But the real kicker was that I had ta’ load them 20 foot trailers on ever’ single line. Dammit, most’ve them only got ta’ learn four’r five trailers but they was havin’ me learn every single damn one in the building, which I reckon totaled ‘bout two-fifty.
“I never complained though, I just kept doin’ what I did and wouldn’t ya know it I’d still finish before ever’one else and when that happened the manager didn’t know what to do with me so the sucker started makin’ me start an hour later than everyone else. Usually they’d have me start up on the box line and later send me down to finish loadin’ trailers midway through the shift, which seemed some hogwash ta’ me because some a’ those kids was loadin’ em’ beforehand an’ coulda’ sabotaged me by puttin’ boxes where they ain’t s’pposed ta’ be. See, I wasn’t Union yet so I didn’t have no choice. As long as I got my three hours they could do whatever they wanted with me... ‘Till I got senority, that is.
“Wednesdays was the busiest day at the hub and on one of em’ they had me loadin’ five trucks when everyone else had four and they got ta’ start earlier. I was behind so the boss came up to me and finally bitched at me for havin’ too many misloads, though what can you expect when you put a guy in different trailers ever’ single goddamn day? I still didn’t complain though, no suh. I reckon I just didn’t give a shit and just kept on workin’ as hard as my back would let me. At the end a’ that shift ever’one finally saw I was human like the rest of em’ ‘cos I’d had ta’ pile up mountains o’ boxes on the sides o’ the trailers. Ya’ got ta’ do that when yer behind or they won’t get out’ve the bins in time for the trailers to leave. Turned out they sent someone ta’ help me when it was usually the other way around.
“My helper me how I liked floatin’ around and doin’ all this work. Said I don’t mind it so much ‘cos I did it at all my other jobs before. I was a baker b’fore doin’ that and I’d have to drive to different stores every night and adjust to other stores ways of doin’ things. He says, ‘Gadzooks, that kinda workin’ would drive me nuts, I donno how you done it.’
“Next day the manager comes up to me an’ says, ‘You been one minute late 11 times fella. Ya gotta show up on time’. And I never remembr’d bein’ late, ‘least not later than I’m expected. So I just looks at him an’ smiles an’ says, ‘You ain’t gonna scam me into workin’ off the clock. If that computer has me startin’ at 4:15 then I’m clockin’ in at 4:15 and no earlier.’ I was supposin’ I been punchin’ in two or three minutes later than 4:15 all those times, but didn’t seem ta’ me like a big deal since they always wanted me to start later anyway.
“‘Listen pecker-head, I don’t care how fast you are, you had four misloads yesterday and that ain’t gonna cut it.’
“‘Some other guys was loadin’ in my trailers. Why’s it you always puttin’ me in trailers already started on ‘n expect me to haul ass in ones I never even worked before?’
“‘I got a lotta people wantin’ this job, kiddo. Don’t make the mistake of arguin’ a minute over yer boss.’
“I got some rage in my eyes and they was glarin’ at the manager when he walked away. So I finished out that shift but didn’t show up the next day. Didn’t even call. Then when I showed up on Monday the man’ger asked me what in the blue blazes I was doin’ there. Said I come to work, just like any other day, and wouldn’t ya know it, I was one minute late again. The manager laughed and pulled me aside, takin’ him up to his office on the third floor.
“Nobody saw me after that and nobody cared really. Not until those a’holes plugged them workers up to them damn electrodes that destroyed the whole company. Idiots thought it’d be more efficient for them to take use of a new technology that made ya move according the actin’ of one single person. They hooked their heads n’ fingers up to them wires like lightbulbs in a circuit, see? That made em’ go faster n’ faster until they was worn out n’ their muscles couldn’t move no more. It was the first time anyone’d used brain-to-brain interface on their employers, and if we refused to do it they told us ta’ call the union. Call the union. Shit, like every time before. Anytime we had grievances for hours scammed and injuries denied, they told us the same thing every time; call the union.
“Well I tell ya what, I left that stinkin’ place an’ went back to Greensboro where I grow’d up. Seems the harder you work, the less you get paid. Spent my whole life workin’ in a system that glorifies the ruthless an’ the lucky an’ makes slaves a’ the rest a’ us. Ever’ job I ever had has ‘bout ninety percent of its employees doin’ the real work with the rest of em’ takin’ advantage a’ their status ta either slack off or bark out the same orders over n’ over again. If we was all paid by the amount a’ labor we actually put in, I’d be a millionaire and those slugs would all be blue-faced bums.
“My mama thought it be a good idea ta’ help out my gran’daddy on his farm down in South Car’lina. I never liv’d off tha’ land before, and I figgered since I already done ever’thing else I may as well try farmin’. That turned out good for me. My only boss was the sun; the daily chores depended on the season and the weather. Wasn’t no stinkin’ manager tellin’ me what ta do or where ta go. An’ I got along with my gran’daddy just fine. He tole me all about where I come from, but I didn’t pay no heed. I knew I had injun blood, but it was my secret and I never tole no white man before. Not until today ‘neway, when me and Bobby was out huntin’. I donno, somethin’ about this place makes you more comfortable tellin’ secrets and such. We way out in the middle of nowhere. Ain’t nobody can cast you out for where you come from. Nobody but the mountain, that is.”
Randy got up to put more wood on the fire, and Veronica watched his muscles shifting in the light, imagining how much exertion they must have given after working so many hard jobs. They looked like old, tired muscles, yet still able to work at a fierce pace, though couldn’t have been a shade over 30. When he’d been talking, a fly had been buzzing around his head. As soon as it had annoyed him, he’d snatched it out of the air with a reflex so sharp that she wasn’t surprised he’d always been the fastest at whatever he did. After Randy rekindled the fire, he took a sip of beer and looked into it.
“One day I seen a service man. He come around tha’ barn lookin’ for me out in the fields. Said I was destin’d for somethin’ better than this, somethin’ that could change my life. He was dressed up all nice- one of them boys from the city, ya now. Well I asked him to quit dallyin’ around an’ get to tha’ point. He asked me if I ever heard of the Golden Goose. Said yay, but it was just a myth based on an injun legend. But this nice lookin’ fella says it’s real. He shows me a photograph and asks me if I’d be interested in finding it for him. So I’m leanin’ on my rake and tryin’ to figure out if that there photograph is fake or not. Could it really be the Golden Goose? It looked smaller than I’d a’ figured it to be. I was kinda curious, so I asked him how much he wanted for it. Thirty percent, he says. I drop my rake and look at ‘im amazed. Said he knowed where it was and I’d be doin’ most of the work. Said I’d have to sign a contract before he could tell me where it was. But the decision was easy; I signed the damn thing and came out west.
“Now before you folks get all cockeyed lemme tell ya that I have no intention a’ returnin’ it to ‘im. Your share will be your share, just like we discussed before. What a sucker that bimbo was, hee-haw!”
