Routine

In the spirit of flash fiction, I found this challenge over at Writing The 200… A weekly writing challenge asking for exactly 200 words.  This week’s challenge:  Timepiece.

Here’s mine.

Timepiece.jpg

Routine

Markov had been awake for just over an hour, interminably long it seemed. He just couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed until it was time.

He sat up, keeping his head low enough to avoid the great spinning gear above his bunk. He slid off and plopped to the floor. He wished he hadn’t woken up so early; he was tired. He allowed himself fourteen seconds to stand there and stare numbly at the floor before hurrying to the closet for supplies.

Already short on time this morning. Pick up the pace. He traversed the great machine carrying a bucket of grease, applying it liberally here and there. As he walked, the cogs spun around him in their silent symphony of motion. He serviced all three levels, sweat soon mixing with grease to the point he couldn’t tell which was coming from him.

He set the bucket down and knew it was time for him to be going. The usual jog took him fifteen minutes, eight seconds. He spun back to look at the great clock and smiled.

9:00 AM precisely. He began his carefully measured jog back. Time to see what he could achieve before noon.

 

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