Tech

"Ever seen what a snapping turtle can do to your finger? Yea, these blocks are like snapping turtles. so don't be fuckin around with the ropes if you're not gonna be careful," A pale, busty girl in all black led the "freshies" up the slimmest spiral staircase Claudia had ever seen. "For the record, if you ever end up coming up to these rafters, don't fucking lock the little door you just saw me open. It's a fuckin' fire thing, i dunno.". For safety's sake, the rusted double-helix was surrounded by metal bars that the kids used to swing themselves around and around and up and up the helix until they were up in the rafters. Rows of metal walkways that sprawled away from the stage below like sound waves. the girl told the group "These walkways up here are called the catwalks. You probably won't end up here until you've had a lot more experience, but I'm gonna show you just for shits n giggles. Everybody be fabulous for the catwalk!" and she walked down the Catwalk like a drunk fashion model. The pubescents laughed and followed, some of the bolder kids imitating his model-walk. Claudia caught on and joined. The catwalk made sounds like crashing symbols as they sashayed along.
The Black and White Girl stopped wen they reached the midpoint of the catwalk furthest from the stage. this lead to the "booth" Where there was a big board with a field of buttons that looked like it could operate a spaceship. He ignored that and instead slapped the colossal telescope-looking spotlight that slept next to it. "And THIS big motherfucker is either called Bessie or Bertha depending on who you're talking to. I like to call her Hillary Clinton myself." Laughter. "She gets very hot and she's very expensive, so she much be handled with care." She let the opportunity for a joke hang in the air, "No comment." Laughter. "Okay! End of orientation tour. Now let's go play with power tools!"
Which is exactly what Claudia wanted to hear. As the line turned in on itself to head back to that dirty couple-helix, however Claudia stared back at Hilary Clinton with something like lust.


"I said A-BROOM-sweep-a-broom! I said A-BROOM-sweep-a-broom!
I said A-BROOM-sweep-a-broom! I said A-BROOM-sweep-a-broom!
I said A broom-sweep-a-mop-a-sweep-a-mop-a-sweep-a-broom!
I said A broom-sweep-a-mop-a-sweep-a-mop-a-sweep-a-broom!"

Claudia began belting that tune after her 3rd quarter working in Cactus Flower High School's technical theatre department, which was also her 3rd quarter of high school. Over two years later, she found herself still doing "bitch work" as the Real Techies called it. This included: sorting screws, picking up slushies from the 7-11, stacking wood shipments, painting non-detailed set pieces, and of course, sweeping. On occasion, "freshies" (though Claudia was feeling way past fresh) were given some thrilling odd job that involved actually partaking in the construction of the set. The weirdest day for Claudia, which took place in her third year, and never really ceased to take place, was a day full of such opportunities.
For the first 10 minutes after school when the auditorium opened up to tech, Claudia swept the stage and sang. It was always dusty, which confused her, weren't things that don't see a lot of use supposed to gather dust?

The next 30 minutes she and Jackie painted a small staircase yellow. Jackie says she prefers "bitch work" because the noise in the workshop (drills, saws, etc.) makes her feel less need to talk all the time, but apparently, she still feels the desire to talk because the workshop could be hosting a rave and she would still be talking all the damn time.
"So apparently we're doing Dracula for the fall play, right? 'Cause, like, you know, Halloween and vampires and all that. I read in an analysis somewhere or a documentary or something that Dracula is basically a statement about anxieties of female sexuality. I think it's funny imagining that in a haunted house, like 'OOOoooOOOOooo the vulvas are engooooorged!'"
"Im pretty sure its vulva."
"Oh,potato-povulva. But why are we making this thing yellow anyways? That's not very gothic. Isn't that what this is supposed to be? Gothic? By the way, when did we start calling them emos instead of goths?" Jackie saw Claude dip a fingernail into a stray bucket of green paint and lift up a corner of the stairs they had just finished. "Oh, yes, of course. The very crucial final step. A dick. Just what we fucking need another fucking set piece with a dick on it."
"It's my signature and it's civil disobedience. When Hunter actually starts teaching me to operate the lights, I'll stop."
By that point in time, 9 different set pieces and props had very small, very crude penises painted on them.
"Why is that even what everyone draws? The two circles and the long thing. That is not even accurate. By the way, is it, like, kinda sexist that everyone draws dicks, but no one draws vaginas? And why do I find dick graffiti everywhere in this school? I counted all the graffiti dicks in the maths building, I got 28. But my point is, yea, that's terrible execution of civil disobedience."
Claudia presented her finished 'signature' to Jackie, "Well, you can suck it. Let's find something else to do."

Claudia was usually eager to demand more work from Hunter. It proved she was finishing tasks and not fucking them up. Today, however, she didn't want to look at his stupid face. Stupid face that thinks her face is even stupider than his stupid face.
The light booth is an enclosed and usually dark space. It's like camping. Intimacy is bound to follow. The intimacy Claudia had been experiencing with Hunter had been a very uncomfortable sort. Like camping, but instead of another camper in the tent there's a bear that wanted to fuck her. Claudia did not want to fuck a bear. He dawdled and dicked around and expected her not to notice, and when she demanded he teach her. Teach me something, anything. Teach me how to whistle out my asshole, for fuck's sake, Im not here to smell your fucking half-decade-old hat that you never wash. He stared at her like she really had just whistled out her asshole. Of course, she says "What are you looking at?"
And he has the motherfucking nerve to reply:
"You just have such pretty eyes." and then he smiled, and his stupid grin looked like a canoe that she wanted to paddle out into the middle of a filthy lake, break a hole in it, and jump overboard so she could watch it sink before she did.
Oh, if I could squirt blood from these eyes like a tree frog, I so would.
"Okay, what the fuck does that have to do with anything I just said?"
He sent her out, told her to go home. And now she had to look at him with her motherfucking pretty eyes once again.


The larger sets were under construction on the stage for convenience's sake. It was a simple series of platforms for actors to climb around and with the use of stage magic, could become many different kinds of settings.
"Let me ask him so he sees me doing work."
"it's been three years, Claude, you might wanna let it go,"
"Fuck your negativity," Hunter was under the lowest platform with a drill.
"CUNTERRR! WE FINISHED THE STEPS. NOW WHAT." Claudia foot hammered the planks above his head. She took some satisfaction in imagining she was curb-stomping him.
Hunter rolled out on his dolly in classic (cliche) mechanic style. His cowboy hat cradled the underside of his head.
"Fellatio?" he laughed. He groaned as he sat up. "There's some planks that need to be cut to 5 feet. We need four of them. Go get them, and if they're not cut, then cut them, obviously."
"With the table saw?"
"No, with a tampon. Yes, with the table saw."


Claudia was elated to see that the planks weren't yet cut. Neither Claudia nor Jackie had ever used the table saw. Sometimes the techies called it "The Screamer" because, obviously, when one used it to cut certain pieces of wood, or if you just cut it a certain way, the blade made this awful screeching noise, a noise that far outdid the notorious nails-on-a-chalkboard sound. No one really knows exactly why it screams and other times it doesn't. Some planks just resist further destruction so that they cry even even without a throat.
The table saw is made up of a circular blade the size of an average pizza. It rotates above the table and through a slit in the table so you can cut completely through the wood. It's like a guillotine that prefers to wail while it works.
They both donned safety goggles to protect from the sawdust that would blind them otherwise. Jackie said something about butchering the "poor, innocent, wood". Claudia retorted with a comment about butchering Hunter's wood. Her wrath is a screamer, too.

The girls worked with dangerous tools (not including Hunter) on a not-so-regular basis. Jackie had, on one occasion, in her freshman year no less, been asked by this very well-admired senior with badass fish tattoos (Claudia spent lots of time with her outside of tech. she was bummed to see her leave and Jackie was bummed to see her bummed) to cut a plank that was already screwed into place, but was jutting out awkwardly from the stage's wall. It was a support beam of a temporary stage they had been building outside of the auditorium for a special performance under the stars. The tool the tattoo'ed girl gave her reminded her of a outdated medical device. It was small but it made her entire forearm shiver when switched on. She wasn't gonna say no to the awesome girl who was covered in fish and always smelled like fire. The ladder could not be placed in a way that gave Jackie a good angle to control the circular saw with. It was easier (and safer) to cut from below and push up, but if she were to face the plank and cut towards herself like that, well, she might as well be brushing her teeth with the damned saw. To keep her face unmangled, she would have to lean back over the top of the ladder so shed be looking up at the plank and cutting away from herself. She awkwardly limbo'ed under the plank and stuck her head out in front of the border of the stage.
She looked straight up and was thankful it was evening or she would be hacking away into the sky blinded by the sun that rarely found itself obstructed, but quickly vaporized the odd cloud that ever did challenge it.
She only had room to hold the saw a foot from her face. Far enough, but if on the off chance the saw caught something, like a knot in the wood or a screw long forgotten (wood was often recycled from older projects, so this wasn't uncommon) and it refused to cut through, the saw would kick back and she'd never have to worry about a stuffy nose again. She turned it on and pushed up. The first half-inch seemed to melt under the blade and she relaxed more and more as the saw distanced itself from her head.
Within 15 seconds, a 10-inch block of wood popped off the end of the plank and conked her on the nose.
It's way too easy to forget the less-extreme mistakes when you're focused on avoiding the devastating ones.
She stood straight up on the ladder when she felt gooey blood flow down her throat. Blech. Jackie clicked the saw off and dropped it on the (dead) grass in an instant. After giving the weapon a once-over to make sure she hadn't broken it she speed-walked inside to plug up her nose. When she came into the view of the workshop she felt like the hero on a poster for an action movie. (She hated action movies, but to live one would be nice.)
Claudia and Sissy took a look at her crimson goatee and mom'ed all over her with the "Are you okay?" and the "What happened" and such.
Jackie stuffed a coarse paper towel up her nose, (which probably made the bleeding even worse) puffed out her torso, and said, "You should see the other guy."

On this day, however, Claudia had to wield the blade. She also could not say no to Ariana, the girl who smelled like fire, the girl who was forever surrounded by her fish, the girl she wanted to be.
The first plank, of course, screamed and screamed. Claudia's poor heart. She startled so badly her chest hurt. "Jesus. Does it just sound different when you're right up next to it or did that plank just make a noise even more unholy than usual?" She looked at Jackie. Jackie didn't get to speak, because, "Who the FUCK is getting it up the ass in here?" Hunter swaggered into the workshop. He looked bored.
"It was The Screamer. The power of Satan is strong in it today, I guess." Claudia shrugged.
"No, no. I definitely heard a human scream. Was that you? Did you get a frighten from the equipment?" he laughed and used a voice that people usually reserve for dogs.
"Fuck off. No, I didn't scream. I mean I don't think I did. I mean, I could've and not noticed."
Why would you say that you stupid stupid stupid what are you being all bashful and weak you dumbass dumbass dumbass you might as well just spread your cheeks and call him "Daddy" stupid stupid stupid
"Well I know it wasn't me" Jackie offered.
well good for fucking you why don't you just go and do something funny isn't that why you're here you're worth more when you're being amusing you loser
Jackie grabbed a can of black spray paint and walked towards the tool shed around the corner from the Screamer.
"Let me just make sure you got this." Hunter came around behind the table and slithered his hands over her arms so he controlled her arms and they were now a Hunter-Claudia hybrid creature.
Oh you've gotta be kidding me do you think you're being smooth do you think I'm impressed go drill a hole in the wall if you need to fuck something so desperately you're pulling this 'oh let me guide your arms oh look physical contact how sensual' shit.
She stared at the heavily-grafitti'd walls and fantasized about nooses and knives as the newly-formed "Cunter" raised and lowered the saw, making it go in and out of the slit in the table "See?" Hunter's face exhaled onto her shoulder. "It just goes up...and down... up... and down... up..." and he switched on the saw so the blade snarled in motion. With his hand over hers, he pushed the plank forward to the line where it was meant to be cut. In a million millionths of a second she took note of a million things, the way she felt her left bicep flex and felt the wood slide an inch and a half under her hand and she felt a splinter threaten to penetrate her middle finger and she felt her right hand tighten it's grip on the saws handle and she felt her hands suddenly exposed to the cool air as Hunter removed his from atop them and she felt their weight leave her arms and she felt the plank shift over a little bit more and she felt what was in one millionth an electric shock and the next millionth the impact of a human hand on her left buttock and she felt her neck jolt to the left and she saw an empty space where a blonde boy was supposed to be and heard, somehow, the words "Good Girl," in her right ear and she felt her right arm come down fluidly and she felt
a thump. Like the feeling of having something swiped out of your hand. Something that is yours. She looked down and she didn't see anything missing at first. She saw a pinky and the ring and the middle and the fore, and her bright red thumb but OH LORD THAT WASNT HER RED THUMB THAT PROTRUDED FROM HER HAND IT WAS A BRIGHT, ABSOLUTELY SPARKLING, STREAM OF BLOOD THAT STAINED THE WOOD AND THE FLOOR AND THE SAWDUST AND PROBABLY MANY OTHER THINGS BUT ALL SHE SAW WAS NOT A THUMB AND NOT A HAND AND NOT A PERSON yes, she knew now that she was screaming. The saw had stopped but the terrible noise did not. She held her four remaining fingers in her other hand and walked forward. She hit the table. stepped the right and walked forward again. she pivoted her body left, toward the tool shed, still sounding off.
Claudia dared to take her eyes off her wound and brought them up to meet Jackie, who was turned, with spray can in hand, away from the inside of one of the tool shed's door, now proudly bearing the still-glistening words "TOO TOOL 4 SCHOOL". Jackie's eyes bugged and dropped like lead from Claudia's face to her hands. Her mouth expanded until it took up over half of her face, but she did not scream. Claudia's voice was using up all the available noise in the room. When Claudia finally stopped screaming was when she felt her injury. It was that feeling right after you crack your knuckles, if you cracked them in a hydraulic press. That was when Jackie took her turn. "SOMETHING HAAAAAAPPEEEEEENEEEEEED!" Jackie first side-stepped towards Claudia, who was crumbling under a million sputtered "F-f-f-f-ffffuuuuUUUUCK"s, then she backpedaled away from her, towards the stage, but never looking away from the puddle of blood that was slowly mixing with the puddle Claudia herself was becoming.
Hunter and three other, more serious techies stormed into the workshop entryway. When they saw Claudia, they all took stances as if under attack. "Thumb is OFF!" was all she had to say.
A wild, red-haired girl and a skinny darker-skinned boy dashed up to either side of Claudia, who had momentarily frozen at the sight of hunter and was looking frantically back at the workshop, as if she would see another of him hiding in there. They nearly carried her to the sink, which was full (as it always is) with crusty paint brushes and rollers that were now receiving a fresh coat that would also be left to coagulate on top of the previous shades. "Okay, someone find the thumb."
Jackie slid under the worktable like a baseball player sliding into home plate.
The area under the saw table was a small hill of sawdust. Some of it was mixed with blood and made the area muddy and sticky. It was a mess she searched frantically.
"The first-aid kit! Umm.." the boy snatched the little plastic case from where it was mounted on the wall. It looked more to Claudia like one of those toy doctor kits for kids.
He cracked it open. Four dried sanitary wipes and half a roll of athletic tape fell out. That was it for medical supplies.
The red-head girl pressed a damp wad of paper towels against the bump that remained of her thumb Ground Zero, Claudia thought without much feeling. She was dizzy, but she didn't know if it was from blood loss or panic.
Jackie scrambled over to the sink looking like she had just returned from a war zone. She held out what looked like a breaded fish stick but was, of course, Claudia's severed digit. "Holy Shit!" She said at the sight of her own separated flesh. What are you, shocked? Yea that's the bit of you that you hacked off. What did you expect it to be, a fingernail? the red-head did the classic "it's okay, you're gonna be okay.." routine.
The boy gaped at the thumb and it was apparent he did not want to touch a piece of human.
"Wash it!" he commanded, and Jackie obliged.
The sink was always touchy, and in the hysteria she forgot about that. The water shot out like an arrow and knocked the thumb from between Jackie's fingers. It landed in a paint can and disappeared for a second under cloudy, gray-blue stained water before surfacing again, now with more skin than sawdust showing. But no more sanitary.
Jackie rinsed it off again, this time keeping her grip on the thing.
"Not so hard!" the boy turned down the pressure of the water coming from the faucet. Who really knows how to wash a thumb?
"Should I use soap?"
"That things empty. We need sanitizer."
"That's empty too!"
"Really? This place is like a shitty motel! Okay, we need to get the thing on ice."
Jackie, not wanting to bother to find a willing thumb-icer, simply took off and out of the auditorium.
Once she reached the outside, however, she froze.
She is in Arizona. In the Valley of The Sun.
Where do you find ice around here?
She ran back in.
"WHERE DO YOU FIND ICE AROUND HERE?" She exhaled the words with panic. The Red Head told her, "The athletic warehouse place-thingy! They have ice baths!"
"GOT IT!" she inhaled those words and took off again.


Claudia was driven to the ER by Hunter. She rode in the backseat due to his passenger seat being full of crap they didn't have time to move. She was fine with that. Distance. He didn't speak. She was fine with that. Silence. Jackie was told to stay behind. She wish she hadn't.