The Ladder: Flash Fiction

A bit of flash fiction for Friday.

The Ladder

I consider myself lucky. I don’t do anything particularly difficult but I’m blessed to have a cubicle with a window where I work. I’m even on the top floor of the building that I’m in, even if that is just three stories. The view is nothing spectacular, just a street and a processing plant with many large tanks scattered along its jagged roof top. It provides a nice frame when the sky is cloudy on a nice summer day.

There are times when I look out at the all those tanks and imagine that those objects all have a life of their own. I know that they contain dangerous chemicals as we were trained what to do if there would ever be a leak. There are days when people troop up onto the roof top and meander through the metal forest like a band of engineer priests. They stop at each tank and see that it is given its proper homage and then proceed to the next in their strange perambulations about the roof that I watch from my desk.

It was after an extended visit by these people that I noticed that they had left behind a ladder beside the largest of the tanks. I had seen them leave it there. From this distance, it had seemed that they had turned to the ladder and given it instructions and then left it to its duties. I realized, after several months, the bands of priest mechanics had never returned. All that was left was the lonely, forlorn ladder standing vigil before the largest tank on the roof. It seemed that the necessity of servicing these aluminum gods was a thing of the past and that a single aluminum ladder would now take the place of the dedication of the human hand.

As time passed, It became a ritual to check out my window after the dawn had warmed the horizon to see if the ladder was still at its post. Each morning it was there, as sure as the cock crows in ancient times to meet the rising sun. The ladder provided a touch stone in my otherwise dull and drab life. It would stand its post until needed. There were mornings that I wondered whether it would still be there after the night of storms that it must have suffered, but I was never disappointed when would raise my blind. It would still be there in its place.

It was the day of the storm that things changed. It hit at noon that day. It was the biggest storm of the year, with lightning, thunder, and hail dashing against my window as I worked alone that dark day in June. The wind howled by my desk like a pack of mad wolves seeking the flesh of a lost traveler and the lightning blinded me as much as the darkness kept me ignorant of the danger that was coming. All the wind, hail, and lightning had caused a problem on the largest tank on the roof across from my window. Each lightning strike showed the developing problem in stark contrast to the murky darkness of the storm. I did what I was trained to do and called the emergency line for the factory. A sickeningly sweet voice assured me there was nothing to worry about as the tanks were empty, and that with this storm there was nothing they would do until it was over. I stood there watching the alternating darkness and light around the tank wondering why such an empty tank had such a growing set of pipes along its side. As the storm reached its crescendo and the lightning was striking in quick succession, I saw the ladder finally fall. It did not fall to either side, but straight back onto a small set of controls. The growing pipes quickly went back to normal while the darkness came back to obstruct my view of the poor ladder.

It took three days before a procession of mechanic priests once again walked the roof across from my window. Their path took no perambulations and they quickly came to the fallen ladder. From my desk I could make out looks of astonishment as the valves and meters that seemed to be unharmed in the ladders fall. I could see from the mighty gesticulations of the head these mendicant priests that there was something present in that colossal metal monster. Phones were taken up and calls were made so that more mechanic priests were summoned to the metal forest and all were given proper homage.

I was most happy to see that the ladder was placed back in its spot. It was even given a pat in congratulations of a job well done. That pat made me feel good for the ladder, that it had been rewarded for standing vigil and doing its job. A few weeks later, I was promoted and was going to a whole different office. As I packed up desk, I looked out the window and said a silent thank you to the ladder. It had helped me get through the slow times and saved me from a threat that no one knew was there.