Daniel pulled at his thick wool coat, fibers scratching through his think sailors uniform. What a damn mistake this had been, the whole damn thing. He could be home, with his family and the rest of the reservation, not standing on this damn boat in October. That bridge was burned though, there was no going home. It was one thing to leave the reservation, but to enlist in the white man's navy? The same military that had forced his ancestors into a death march across the country they stole. Home was gone, but it had never really been home in the fist place. Life on the reservation wasn't life, it was purgatory. The elders were just holding on to the only life they knew, and what little power it gave them - if they cared about the younger generations they would have pushed for integration.
The world was changing, and America with it. The melting pot. No one wanted to admit that all the precious metals in that crucible had melted only enough to guild it. Things were changing though, the war was changing America. He'd known since he'd seen Jesse Owens in the paper in town, and heard all the white men whose every other word was normally "nigger" say Mr. Owens with respect. Maybe they'd seen what happened when the world went too white: Nazis. Maybe not. Either way, things were changing, he could feel it. Some day soon those precious metals would truly melt, and the pot would run over with gold, silver and copper for all.
No, it was no mistake. He was just homesick, and lonely. Today this was still the white man's world, and he was still apart from it. The blacks had their own units, segregation kept them apart still, though it wouldn't last past the war. There weren't enough natives in the whole military to form their own unit though, so he was the lone "injun". Even though he was more apart of the white man's world than the blacks in the navy, he felt more apart for it. His gut churned with anxiety, just like that melting pot, stoked by the flames of war and hope. He was here, though, in the damn biting wind in the damn itchy coat staking his claim to a slice of the American dream.
Daniel made his way below decks, to the heavy diesel engines below. Their engines churning with thick, heavy power enough to propel the massive bulk of metal through the sea. Someday, soon, it would carry them to Europe. The crewchief barked out orders over the heavy noise of the engines, saying nothing much about anything. No one knew why they were here, they had all volunteered for the experiment at the admiral's insistence no one was ordered, but they all knew what they were doing. Daniel wasn't surprised to see so many blacks among the crowd, they were here laying their stake too.
He found his way to the assigned station and laid his hand on the casings holding the heavy engines beneath, feeling the heartbeat of the warship resonate through his arm. The spirit within was strong, but anxious. He could feel the moments when the breath of the intakes gasped slightly. "I too" he said to the ship.
The crewchief barked another command, and the chugging of the engines intensified, the hull creaked under strain as the ship disembarked. Whatever it was they were here to do, they would do soon. Though the ship had enough fuel to carry them far out into the Atlantic, he doubted they would be going farther from shore than the tower could observe. As the ship began to slow soon after, his suspicions were confirmed.
It was a low hum, at first. He pressed his hand to the engine's casing, feeling the heartbeat, seeing if it was the ship. The hum resonated through, but was not from it. He looked to the ceiling, choked with a tangle of pipes, valve and rivets. No, it came from above. the hum grew louder, painful. The other sailors pressing ear mufflers hard against their head, strain on their faces. Daniel grimaced, but kept his ears clear, his hand on the heart of the ship. It screamed. The world broke.
Daniel felt himself slip, felt himself pulled, as if tied to a rocket with a rope. He suddenly jerked free, of what he could not say, but free, in a horrible way. His nerves crackled with pain, like electrocution, around him men screamed and toppled to the ground. Daniel fought his way to his feet, running to grab and lift a young negro man at the next station. When he grabbed him, his hands passed right through him, and the man slowly began to slide into the floor. Like he was sinking into thick paint.
Daniel recoiled, his mind rebelled against his eyes, refusing to believe what he saw. He grabbed at the sinking man again. This time they clasped arms, and Daniel pulled furiously, but the engulfing metal would not give back an inch what it took. The young man screamed, the primal scream of death and fear and Daniel screamed back. Through it, though, he herd the the ship's hear, it's slightly gasping thud anchoring his mind, even as it fought against him. He closed his eyes from the insanity engulfing the engine room, the men melting into floors and walls, their screams, he heard only the rhythm of life within the engines. Thud. Thud, Thud.
When he opened his eyes, his mind and eyes were able to reconcile the impossibility of the tableau. Whether it be be bravery or naked self preservation, Daniel sprinted for the stairs. He needed to let the scientists above know there had been some horrific mistake and they needed to stop. The hard steel of the stairs felt soft beneath his feet, and each step echoed as if each foot was many striking each tread slightly out of time from each other. He hoisted himself up through the stairs, through the door, and to the deck. Here more men sank into the steel of the ship, as if being consumed. Their faces frozen in final grimaces of pain and panic, or still howling in terror. Out before him stretched the bay, he could make out the docks of the Philadelphia ship yards and the observation tower in the distance. To the other side, another bay of a city he did not recognize, as if the entire Atlantic had turned into a small pitch dark lake, encircled by land and two different cities. A thick greenish fog hung in the air around the ship, above him a single seagull sat above, frozen mid-flight.
He felt the softening metal of the deck cloying at his feel, trying to pull him in like quicksand. Distantly he heard the thud of the engine, and he prayed: Great Eldridge, do not take me. It is not your desire, I know. Time was running out, he turned, ignoring the impossible horizon and ran towards the upper deck and the bridge. He ran to the windows of the bridge, banging his fists on the glass and screaming inside for them to stop whatever it was they were doing. Inside, a single man stood, seemingly frozen. His parted hair and pale skin looking more like a mannequin than a person. Daniel ran around, towards the door, but it was firmly locked. There would be no opening it, and the only person inside was frozen. He leaned against the door, tears forming in the corner of his eyes, panic worming its way back into his mind. He could no longer feel the thuds, of the ship, they had grown further and further apart to the point where they no longer felt connected. Few screams echoed through the ship, it grew silent, and somehow slower.
Daniel turned to look over the strange inky sea, within it he saw sparkles. Motes of dancing lights, more than reflections of the tepid light from the steely gray October sky. It was beautiful, a stark contrast from the horror that had become of the once proud ship. Daniel placed his hand against the window, looking back once more at the still man inside. The man who had wrought this upon the Eldridge and its crew. Then he jumped.
As Daniel fell over the ship, he noticed it no longer touched the water, but hovered some feet above it, as if by magic. He had little time to process such observations before he met the water, and it consumed him. He tried, at first, to swim up to the surface, but it was impossible. Any notion of which direction that might be was lost. The stygian darkness pulled him in deeper, the glimmering motes burning brighter as he sank; tiny little suns suspended in the void beside him. Then, there was nothing.
Then the cry of a baby and a burst of blinding light.
The world was changing, and America with it. The melting pot. No one wanted to admit that all the precious metals in that crucible had melted only enough to guild it. Things were changing though, the war was changing America. He'd known since he'd seen Jesse Owens in the paper in town, and heard all the white men whose every other word was normally "nigger" say Mr. Owens with respect. Maybe they'd seen what happened when the world went too white: Nazis. Maybe not. Either way, things were changing, he could feel it. Some day soon those precious metals would truly melt, and the pot would run over with gold, silver and copper for all.
No, it was no mistake. He was just homesick, and lonely. Today this was still the white man's world, and he was still apart from it. The blacks had their own units, segregation kept them apart still, though it wouldn't last past the war. There weren't enough natives in the whole military to form their own unit though, so he was the lone "injun". Even though he was more apart of the white man's world than the blacks in the navy, he felt more apart for it. His gut churned with anxiety, just like that melting pot, stoked by the flames of war and hope. He was here, though, in the damn biting wind in the damn itchy coat staking his claim to a slice of the American dream.
Daniel made his way below decks, to the heavy diesel engines below. Their engines churning with thick, heavy power enough to propel the massive bulk of metal through the sea. Someday, soon, it would carry them to Europe. The crewchief barked out orders over the heavy noise of the engines, saying nothing much about anything. No one knew why they were here, they had all volunteered for the experiment at the admiral's insistence no one was ordered, but they all knew what they were doing. Daniel wasn't surprised to see so many blacks among the crowd, they were here laying their stake too.
He found his way to the assigned station and laid his hand on the casings holding the heavy engines beneath, feeling the heartbeat of the warship resonate through his arm. The spirit within was strong, but anxious. He could feel the moments when the breath of the intakes gasped slightly. "I too" he said to the ship.
The crewchief barked another command, and the chugging of the engines intensified, the hull creaked under strain as the ship disembarked. Whatever it was they were here to do, they would do soon. Though the ship had enough fuel to carry them far out into the Atlantic, he doubted they would be going farther from shore than the tower could observe. As the ship began to slow soon after, his suspicions were confirmed.
It was a low hum, at first. He pressed his hand to the engine's casing, feeling the heartbeat, seeing if it was the ship. The hum resonated through, but was not from it. He looked to the ceiling, choked with a tangle of pipes, valve and rivets. No, it came from above. the hum grew louder, painful. The other sailors pressing ear mufflers hard against their head, strain on their faces. Daniel grimaced, but kept his ears clear, his hand on the heart of the ship. It screamed. The world broke.
Daniel felt himself slip, felt himself pulled, as if tied to a rocket with a rope. He suddenly jerked free, of what he could not say, but free, in a horrible way. His nerves crackled with pain, like electrocution, around him men screamed and toppled to the ground. Daniel fought his way to his feet, running to grab and lift a young negro man at the next station. When he grabbed him, his hands passed right through him, and the man slowly began to slide into the floor. Like he was sinking into thick paint.
Daniel recoiled, his mind rebelled against his eyes, refusing to believe what he saw. He grabbed at the sinking man again. This time they clasped arms, and Daniel pulled furiously, but the engulfing metal would not give back an inch what it took. The young man screamed, the primal scream of death and fear and Daniel screamed back. Through it, though, he herd the the ship's hear, it's slightly gasping thud anchoring his mind, even as it fought against him. He closed his eyes from the insanity engulfing the engine room, the men melting into floors and walls, their screams, he heard only the rhythm of life within the engines. Thud. Thud, Thud.
When he opened his eyes, his mind and eyes were able to reconcile the impossibility of the tableau. Whether it be be bravery or naked self preservation, Daniel sprinted for the stairs. He needed to let the scientists above know there had been some horrific mistake and they needed to stop. The hard steel of the stairs felt soft beneath his feet, and each step echoed as if each foot was many striking each tread slightly out of time from each other. He hoisted himself up through the stairs, through the door, and to the deck. Here more men sank into the steel of the ship, as if being consumed. Their faces frozen in final grimaces of pain and panic, or still howling in terror. Out before him stretched the bay, he could make out the docks of the Philadelphia ship yards and the observation tower in the distance. To the other side, another bay of a city he did not recognize, as if the entire Atlantic had turned into a small pitch dark lake, encircled by land and two different cities. A thick greenish fog hung in the air around the ship, above him a single seagull sat above, frozen mid-flight.
He felt the softening metal of the deck cloying at his feel, trying to pull him in like quicksand. Distantly he heard the thud of the engine, and he prayed: Great Eldridge, do not take me. It is not your desire, I know. Time was running out, he turned, ignoring the impossible horizon and ran towards the upper deck and the bridge. He ran to the windows of the bridge, banging his fists on the glass and screaming inside for them to stop whatever it was they were doing. Inside, a single man stood, seemingly frozen. His parted hair and pale skin looking more like a mannequin than a person. Daniel ran around, towards the door, but it was firmly locked. There would be no opening it, and the only person inside was frozen. He leaned against the door, tears forming in the corner of his eyes, panic worming its way back into his mind. He could no longer feel the thuds, of the ship, they had grown further and further apart to the point where they no longer felt connected. Few screams echoed through the ship, it grew silent, and somehow slower.
Daniel turned to look over the strange inky sea, within it he saw sparkles. Motes of dancing lights, more than reflections of the tepid light from the steely gray October sky. It was beautiful, a stark contrast from the horror that had become of the once proud ship. Daniel placed his hand against the window, looking back once more at the still man inside. The man who had wrought this upon the Eldridge and its crew. Then he jumped.
As Daniel fell over the ship, he noticed it no longer touched the water, but hovered some feet above it, as if by magic. He had little time to process such observations before he met the water, and it consumed him. He tried, at first, to swim up to the surface, but it was impossible. Any notion of which direction that might be was lost. The stygian darkness pulled him in deeper, the glimmering motes burning brighter as he sank; tiny little suns suspended in the void beside him. Then, there was nothing.
Then the cry of a baby and a burst of blinding light.
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