Murphy's Law

Murphy’s Law “BOP!” went the whizzing, whirring device. A bashing cymbal sounded, ringing out for the millionth time today. The conveyer scraped along the needlessly colourful wall. It was a museum of sound, with the extravagant pieces of modern art, and the constant symphony playing in the background. It mostly disguised the fact that this was a factory, especially one of the most important in the world. Every time he came in to work, Murphy gazed up at the well-lit pipes on the ceiling, absorbed in the mix of bright liquids sloshing towards their destination. He glanced towards the rooms where he worked, where the Dust was extracted from its owners. They were compensated richly, often with enough to buy back more Dust. “Hi Boss, have you seen the new laws?”, a co-worker greeted him. He spun around on the spot. “What new laws?”, he answered. “We’re moving out,” said the co-worker with glee. “It’s finally happened! Those idiotic humans will have to manage by themselves!”

Softly clip-clopping into his carpeted office, he noticed for the first time how dreary it was compared to the glaring entrance hall. A feeling he was being watched suddenly struck him. He turned his shoulders and peered over his back. A young one, his swishing tail still rainbow, was standing at the door, watching him. He would be a clerk, working in the sales department. “Mr Murphy, sir,” the young clerk said. “There’s a hearing protesting the new law, at 2:00 this afternoon, would you like to come?” Murphy was relieved. After hearing the news this morning, he had been horrified, considering the fact that humans purchased most of the Dust they produced. The company would go broke, and worse, the whole of society could collapse. “Of course, I’ll be there.”

When Murphy stepped into the Courthouse, he noticed the scent of the carpet seemed stronger, perhaps more noxious, like something had died in it. The furnishings were rusting, and the paint was greying, but it was certainly still alive, its wide double doors, yawning with age. The receptionist sat at a desk near the side of the building. It was the only thing that seemed new or polished. Murphy trotted hastily, but dignified, and he and the receptionist touched horns in greeting. “And you will be here for the hearing?” the receptionist politely enquired. Murphy gave a quick nod of his head. “Second door on the right in that corridor” answered the receptionist, pointing a hoof. Gazing at the portraits of famous judges lining the walls, he saw a mirror at the end a row, and he watched his reflection as he did a pose similar to the judges’ pictures. “Murphy!” a voice barked, “We need you in there now.”

Entering the courtroom, everyone seemed to be looking at him. He was invited to step up to a lectern. He pulled out his speech. He began his talk, attempting to use complex words to make the council believe that he knew what he was talking about. It seemed that the council was convinced at the conclusion, but then he noticed a senior member whispering to the others when they made their decision. “We have reached our decision. We are making an amendment to this law. Anyone who chooses to stay behind or speak out against this decision will be executed.” Gasps of shock rose into the air from the crowd, perhaps foreshadowing the image of their future ghosts.

..............

Murphy was not happy. Especially about where he was. After all, he was all about his business, and he couldn’t imagine life without it. It had closed under the new laws. Even though it had been revealed as a dictatorship, most people still supported the government. Handcuffed, he was made to sit against a wall, and for a brief second before the impact, he saw one of the officials wince. It was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a trademark smirk. Then something changed. He felt heavier, and as though some force was scorching him. Then he saw the face. “Well then, unicorn. Are you ready to go to hell?”