Wally and Morty

Not everyone makes friends at work

(300 words)

The box that arrived at the brick-strewn jobsite was the size of a large refrigerator. There were two machines in the box, strange-looking contraptions with front-facing lenses that made them look disconcertingly alive. They were labeled: Morty and Wally.

The larger of the two machines, Morty, measured out sand, cement, water, and lime to make mortar. It monitored moisture to keep the mix wet and workable. It even followed its "master" worker down the line of a wall offering a convenient, clean flow of mortar for his trowel.

The smaller of the two was Wally. It pulled itself along the top of a brick wall. Small pads gently massaged and patted each brick into place so that it was level, plumb, and true; small mortar knives tucked the seams. Bricklayers simply needed grab some mortar form Morty and quickly slap a row of bricks down in front of Wally, without tapping, twisting, and squeezing the brick into the perfect position. Occasionally, they might need to tuck-point a joint. Wally managed each carelessly brick, hissed quietly a couple of times, and moved on. Behind it, the wall was even, level, and straight, mortar lines pristine.

The crew was disgusted. They grumbled to the Union, but the machines had been approved by that dubious organization.

On the last day of construction, the full crew of bricklayers was in attendance. For a change, they were cheerful and smiling, enjoying the end of the job.

~~~ ~~~

The school building had been finished a month ahead of schedule. Replete with modern infrastructure and a welcoming, windowed exterior, the community loved the new building. And no one ever suspected that the raised, brick-lined bed for the flagpole was a cairn containing the bodies of two bricklayers.

Two bricklayers by the name of Wally and Morty.