A Good Job
By: James Shelby
Tags: Short Fiction, Fiction, Science Fantasy, SciFi, Short Story

“I did it sir, I’ve cleared all of the flowers from my sector.”

“Very good, Danfield, very good. If you keep it up, you will be assistant lieutenant one of these days.”

“Thank you sir,” she bowed her head and exited the room. Later that day, as she walked along the street she noticed something amiss. A flower, bursting out of the concrete with its sickly yellow head. “Heh, must have missed this one. Well, no worries.” She pulled out her spray gun and soaked the intrusive plant and watched as it instantly shriveled and decayed back into the sidewalk’s crack. Now, her sector was officially 100% clean.

However, the next day said something else. She saw it there again. Protruding from the concrete, grasping at the precious city air. Air that did not belong to it. She shook her head. “Persistent little thing.” She sprayed it once again. But, this time, it appeared to topple over, but it did not instantly decay. “What the…” she then looked at her spray. “Maybe I just need to get this cleanicide replaced. She looked over at the plant again. Finally, it was starting to decay, its shrunken parts swept-up by the wind.

She patrolled her sector, making sure that there were no other signs of invasive plant life or parasitic tulips. During the course of her shift, she found nothing. Relieved, she clocked-out and headed home. But, she stopped. The flower not only was back, but it seemed to be bigger, its disgusting face more vibrant and arrogant than before. “Son of a-” she rapidly the flower and watched as the cleanicide penetrated its skin. The flower shook, but after a few moments of silent battle, the flower stood tall. Danfield glared at it. People walking by looked at her and the plant. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” and she proceeded to unleash the cleanicide upon the persistent weed.

Finally, the plant was gone. She let out a sigh of relief and walked back home. But that night she struggled for sleep. All she could think of was that flower returning, growing taller and taller, encouraging others to emerge from the cracks. And it would all be her fault. If the flowers came and invaded their homes, it would be her fault. She didn’t try hard enough. And then she would be out on the streets. Someone without purpose, guilt hanging over her head as her precious city was consumed.

However, the next day, the flower was not there. At first she was surprised, but then nodded her head as if this was to be expected. “Of course it’s gone,” she thought to herself. For weeks, she patrolled her sector. No signs of flowers. No signs of weeds. Everything was clean. Pristine. The way it was always meant to be. One day, she was asked to meet with her superior.

“Hello sir. You wanted to see me?”

“Danfield! How is it going? Please, sit. I’ve heard the wonderful progress you’ve made in your sector. No invaders for over a month. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’ve done good work. Which is why we have to let you go…”

She didn’t know what to make of this. “I’m sorry, sir?”

“I deeply apologize, Danfield. You were one hell of a soldier. But, based on your success, it seems like the war is now over. We can’t pay you for fighting a battle that no longer exists.”

“Right, um…” she searched her hands. “But, my promotion…”

“Oh, right. Well…that position has been taken by the deputy’s nephew. I’m sorry, Danfield. So sorry. But don’t worry, you will leave her with a full pension. How does that sound?”

Danfield walked down the street. The concrete. The fiberglass. The asphalt. The glowing screens and windows. Her sector was perfect, but she felt miserable. It was as if there was nothing left in her. But then, she found herself at a familiar crack. She kneeled down and peeked into the sliver of opening, but it was too dark to see. Her hand inched to her side, but then she stopped herself, realizing she was just grasping for her; her cleanicide was no longer there. “Well,” she said. “At least I’ve done my job. What have you ever done?” And then she walked away, stepping over the now-empty cracks.

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Written for The Sunday Muse.

ayyyyyyyyyyyy it’s me. check out my blog which is mostly just fiction and poetry at the moment. may expand some more. sky’s the limit, etc. View all posts by tiredhamster