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Journal of ElfTech003

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[NPC] ElfTech003

PostPosted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 4:00 pm
Monday, November 14th, 2005
3:58 PM

I am being assaulted with noise, the mechanical sounds of toys being born, the tinny announcements being read over the loudspeakers, the insidious voices of other lab assistants. I wish I could erect a soundproof barrier over my workbench, or at least keep the tumult from burrowing in my head and causing migraines to erupt.

The Elftech with the furry bricks for eyebrows had spasms about everything, he almost cried when he saw lunch. What he saw as a glorious, melted shrine looked like baked death to me. Wheat and cheese, two evils guaranteed to make my throat close up and my eyes bulge out.

I had rice wafers and a mug of Oolong tea for lunch. A drowsy looking ElfTech with a sleek brown bob came by and introduced herself as 369. She eyed my meal, and then reached into her bag and offered me a shiny, red apple. I pulled a thick yellow rubber band from the six-inch ball I keep in a drawer and held it up for her to take.

After she left, I carefully examined the apple with a magnifying glass, checking for the microscopic, telltale pricks caused by injections. There were none. I recorded the loss of the rubber band in my notebook and bit into the fruit.  
PostPosted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 6:16 pm
Monday, November 14th, 2005
6:15 PM

Makeshift earmuffs prevented me from hearing the announcement from Mrs. Claus saying earmuffs that prevented hearing are not allowed.

ElfTechEyebrows came to my cubicle to let me know. I had to read his lips, because the beaming elf bounced away before I could free my ears from the mass of cotton and electrical tape.  

[NPC] ElfTech003

[NPC] ElfTech003

PostPosted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 10:18 pm
Monday, November 14th, 2005
10:17 PM

Most of the other ElfTechs have gone, leaving me to peruse the facilities in near silence. Two rubber bands have been recovered. They have been added to the records.


Ball #63
Rubber band #7645
S-Corp, Employee Break Room, left of hot water dispenser
1/2" Width. Brittle. Color of manila folder. Two green stains, one bearing a slight resemblance to a wombat.


Ball #63
Rubber band #7646
S-Corp, Utility Closet, bottom shelf, behind three rolls of dusty toilet paper
Jumbo. Color of dried blood. Can be stretched over hips comfortably, but pinches ears too tightly. Provides some headache relief when worn at the temples.  
PostPosted: Tue Nov 15, 2005 10:30 am
Tuesday, November 15th, 2005
10:30 AM

Memorandums have flooded my workbench. The two rubber bands procured last night did not escape scrutiny.



I noticed you share the same strange obsession for rubber band balls. I, however, have not yet started logging my rubber bands and their locations. But I can tell you that I am the proud owner of a 6" wide, pure rubber bands rubber-band-ball! This baby started by a rubber band or two wound in a tiny ball.. and more rubber bands around it. Which rubber band ball is your biggest? And which is your most prized rubber band?


Dear Mr. xxxelo,

The act of logging the location of found objects is an important exercise in pinning down the moments of existence that might otherwise be forgotten.

I applaud you for also seeing the value in collecting rubber bands. I myself, consider the humble creatures to be a metaphor for the Elfish experience. Each band varies in shape, function, and origin, yet are still undoubtedly Rubber-Band-ish. Some are flexible, some snap with very little tension, and some are even used to hurt others. They are simple and often overlooked, but they are everywhere, making life easier for many in their own quiet way.

My largest ball is #34, which is the size of my arm span, roughly 30". The core contains Balls 30 through 33. As I have no memory before arriving in this Arctic workshop, I can only ascertain that the balls got grafted together to cover up a particularly difficult interlude. Well... the entries from that time period seem to suggest as much anyway. (e.g. Location found: Under metal food tray, on cement floor)

My meticulously kept notebook also reveals my most prized rubber band as being #5804, the inaugural one on Ball #34. Location found: His wrist. I deduced the importance of this particular band, not from the expansiveness of the entry, but rather the lack of it.

Thank you for your inquiry.

~ ElfTech003

xxxx xxega
xxxxx xxirl
xxxxxxxx xxndy

[NPC] ElfTech003

[NPC] ElfTech003

PostPosted: Tue Nov 15, 2005 4:43 pm
Tuesday, November 15th, 2005
4:37 PM

His voice was like a war drum. Clenched fists punched the air. The rallying cries continued as the elves around me jumped from their seats.

I focused on the cheers, and let the violent cadence wash over me. Eight syllables, and then pause, eight syllables, and then pause, eight syllables, and then. pause.


Eight syllables, and then pause. An exhaled breath on the first, three -tuh noises in all, and the Claus formed by a quick, delicate meeting of tongue-tip to the back of upper teeth.

I was the last to file out of the auditorium. I watched Eyebrows as he skipped down the hall. He joined the others in words alone, instead of their harsh, guttural delivery, he preferred to delight in joyful variance at each turn. He allowed his voice to move through the octaves, the chant becoming song, and then erupting into a finale, each syllable being stretched out and expelled triumphantly. I saw him bouncing in the air to the rhythm of his voice. By the time we got back to our workbenches, he was so overwhelmed, that he could only wave his hands above his shining eyes.

An hour later, I heard a manic voice echoing from a cubicle, yelling SANTACLAUSISCOMINGTOTOWN SANTACLAUSISCOMINGTOTOWN over and over. The unusual inflection indicated that her vocal cords were travelling in a frantic looping motion. I mimed her rhythm in my whispers, and found that I could complete the mantra 11.5 times with one breath.  
PostPosted: Wed Nov 16, 2005 3:14 pm
Wednesday, November 16th, 2005
3:14 PM

My pile of etch-a-sketches have been reduced by .8", they sit depleted at the corner of my work bench against the equally spaced tick-marks of black ink I have inscribed on the wall. Every half-inch, or 125 completed pages, is interrupted by dark red; I can see a previously covered crimson dash, guiltily revealing itself again, the pages leaking downward, already halfway to the next.

I suspect the bespectacled, quick-fingered elf in the cube next to me. From my intimate vantage point, I have seen him hard at work not at the assembly line, but practicing making various objects vanish and reappear.

I have been reassigned to manufacturing by Elftech247, blueprints and materials have been provided for this solo project.

The moonshoe is to be encased in lightweight titanium, lined with poly-paraphenylene terephthalamide, and padded with the finest faux rabbit fur available. Trampoline soles allow for an upward trajectory of seven to ten feet on concrete, and five to seven on freshly fallen snow. This design ensures hours of comfortable bunny-hopping down sunny fields littered with dandelions or shrapnel.

The range of demanded sizes astonish me; from delicate matchboxes fit for a bouncing elfling, to mini-submarines that could be gifted to Santa himself!

The footage of the ship yard accident stirred in me only a vague interest. The impact caused as the claw hit the ground suggested a metal similar to my own Material-of-the-Day. The panic on the faces of my tech-mates failed to move me, not because I thought the "toy" arm to be benign, but because I could not understand why they didn't find the gift sets full of chemicals equally as disconcerting.

Without knowing why, I rewound the video to watch it again, and by the third or fourth go, I realized that I was not looking at the mechanical arm, but gazing intently at the image of the formerly joyful elf in profile. I watched as his ample brow rose up in shock, and joined the hairline to create a gentle, pleasing black slope.  

[NPC] ElfTech003

[NPC] ElfTech003

PostPosted: Fri Nov 18, 2005 1:53 am
Friday, November 18th, 2005
2:00 AM

His mind in constant offense to protect his hollow truth.

Arms stiff from
repetitive motions.
Hands trembling, fingertips cracked and oozing.

His song ended on a malicious note as he left his cubicle for lunch and didn't return.

Two hundred pairs of moonshoes, accepted in the afternoon, but marked next to the name of 7 2 2.
Quota, quota, quota, the day resets to zero as I start again.

His frosted glasses, don't blur his eyes, enough to hide,
that they never.

Eighteen hours.
Almost, almost;
almost, almost.  
PostPosted: Sat Nov 19, 2005 12:48 pm
Saturday, November 19th, 2005
12:45 PM

I woke up under my workbench Friday afternoon. 1,200 Coki utility belts -2 days worth- were finished and gone. A check of the Manufacturing Department's status chart, confirmed that the belts have been received and logged in by 247.

I brought the sheets of titanium, heaps of bullet-proof fabric, and rolls of faux rabbit fur back to Inventory. The amputation of moonshoe production will be discovered soon.

Information extracted from the overheard whispers of other elves sparked my curiosity about the latest shipping incident. My ability to be ignored allowed me to easily escape notice as I checked the buildings, room by room.

I found my query in a dark corner of Sublevel F. Rows of cages with metal bars lined the wall, stacked three high. Inside were hundreds of arms and legs connected to fluffy pillows no larger than my biggest rubber band ball. Some piled together, resembling moving heaps of batted cotton.

The smell in the air was akin to a quiet morning after a night of snowfall. Crisp, and fresh, with a nipping, frosted chill.

They were all head and limbs, padded feet and bright, slightly-crossed green eyes. Their chubby arms were a mere suggestion of the two strong clubs that one day they might become. Small tail-tuffs whisked from side to side at different tempos.

Each had a silvery protuberance on either side of the head. The metallic cornucopia curved upward, small and sterile, not causing damage as they playfully nudged each other.

They produced a mountain of consonant based noises, mrrrr, and rhrrrr, and brrrrr. Comforting blankets of alluring sound flowed from the cages creating rich layers of tone. They yawned often, exposing their fleshy pink tongues.

Each ice-puff had a single rounded milk-tooth fang protruding from the corner of it's wide mouth, identical in position for each, but with a left-side or right occurrence. The lefties had a tendency to roll at a 30-degree angle to the right, while the preference was reversed in the others.

Gender could not be ascertained from my position, each creature as sexless as the snowballs they resemble.

One approached the bars and sniffed me with it's moist, pink nose. It's fur was as soft and delicate as the lining of the moonshoes, but I could feel the breath-filled warmth, and the quick beats of a living heart.  

[NPC] ElfTech003

[NPC] ElfTech003

PostPosted: Tue Nov 22, 2005 10:37 am
Tuesday, November 22th, 2005
10:40 AM

Something happened in Sublevel F. Rows of cages stood vacant. Dozens of white creatures were missing. The air was musty and damp, like a wet towel left crumpled on the ground for days. Listless creatures prowled their cages, melancholia hung in the room so thick it was palpable.

A small cage with two small puffs crouched inside, the lock on the door had been left carelessly loose, unlatched. Faint voices could be heard in the corridor. I scooped one up, it didn't protest as I tucked it under the front of my lab coat. A rusty ladder in the corner ran from floor to ceiling and connected all the levels. I climbed up with my small charge. A dark closet met our exit, I left the trusting creature in a box, and scurried back down.

The voices drew nearer, just around the corner now. Metal clinked, the heavy wheels of a cart? Aggressive sounds. A rush of air intensified that stale odor. I grabbed the other, and ran.

Containment breach. The muffled air-raid sirens floated up through the air ducts, panic spread as the alarm wailed upward. Rumors of injuries, a game of telephone reached my ears and I heard "Guards! Killed!" (Guards?)

Camera feeds have been blacked out in all sectors of Sublevel F. The epidemic of blindness increased, there was barely a red eye left in the facilities. Secrecy reigned. The voice of Ms. Claus made an announcement, my heart thumped painfully, an elf was singing on the floor -but nevermind, nevermind- my fear unfolded and wrapped around my throat.

I checked on my two furry stowaways. They nestled in the shelter I constructed for them, intact and safe while they slept, one delicate snowflake against another. I stayed with them for hours, until my stomach unknotted and subsided, and all was quiet in the building save for the breathing of our illegal triad.  
PostPosted: Wed Nov 30, 2005 12:22 am
Wednesday, November 30th, 2005
12:21 AM

Holes have appeared in my memory. This week floated and flashed through my foggy mind. Something has twisted deep inside this place, it festered and echoed in the walls of the building. Ramble and Ruin, my two young ones have escaped whatever assailed their kin- that horrible Whatever, that awful Whatever heard only when I pressed my ear against the floor.

I have not met my quota for three days, but no one came searching and asking why. Even the enthusiastically-browed elf ceased to gush about his duties, instead he has lapsed into a drowsy, blank silence. Something has changed. Deja vu, I've been here before. My notebook revealed patterns. Page seven. Page ten. Page twenty, thirty-seven, sixty-two, eighty-one. I can't remember. Why do entries change slightly at the end of each ball? A new location, walls painted different colors, a rubber band found in a pot containing an exotic flower only found thousands of miles away. Flight. The sensation awoke, it's sleepy wings stretched out and thumped against my chest and demanded that freedom be granted.

Flight. How will I know where to go if I don't know what I've left behind. Where are my sixty-two completed spheres of elastic strands listed so carefully in my worn book. I have only the last.

F l i g h t.
F l i g h t.

The ceiling lights flickered near the cubicles. Our singing friend was nowhere to be seen or heard, his scrub-brush and playing cards laid abandoned on the floor. I only stopped once as I sprinted toward the door.

Night beckoned to us, stretched out her rosy fingers and left her mark on my cheeks. The little ones laid curled in a furry hammock. Five yards of warmth wrapped over my chest and kept their quick pulses against mine. The fresh air revived them, two identical white faces tilted upward, noses twitching. I know they will survive with their thick coats and wintry hearts.

I will walk into this crystalline darkness, each step pointing forward and my lungs drawing breath until my heart fills up and bursts. Onward, with Ramble, my lost explorer and Ruin, dearest quiet Ruin, who carries in her namesake a reminder that everything must fall down.  

[NPC] ElfTech003

[NPC] ElfTech003

PostPosted: Wed Nov 30, 2005 1:27 am
Wednesday, November 30th, 2005
1:28 AM

We regret to inform you that the journal of ElfTech003 has been sealed due to a security compromise. Please do not attempt to contact her through this address any further. Thank you for your cooperation.

"Making Christmas..."

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