Purpose

All metal was purposed. Purposed for the express reason to build prosperous buildings and weapons of control and security. Metalworkers came from far and wide to build alongside one another. What they didn’t want was metal made into something that wasn’t meant to be useful, as if they had any idea of what that meant.

Above all else, they especially wouldn’t have wanted metal to be made into something with sentimental value. Personal feeling was not deemed useful. Love was not useful. That’s what Benjamin Kane was made to believe his whole life. His father was a metalworker, like all the rest of his friend’s father’s. Ben didn’t dislike the world he lived in, and in fact, he came to adore the glistening of metal on each of the buildings.

His metalworker father assured him that there would be much more of a world for him and his own family to adore if he chose to do something for the future of his home town too. With the pedestal he had Metaltown on, he wanted to stand atop the pedestal beside it. Protecting it from anyone who dared to turn it into something that it wasn’t. With a few years of training, Ben would graduate from Metaltown Military Academy. But it wouldn’t be until he met an elderly man of about 65 years, basking in the sun on a lonely street, that his training would finally be put to the test.

In one hand, the 60-something had a forty of liquor near gone, and in his other, something Ben had not yet seen in his entire life. Weaving through the old man’s fingers, with the effortlessness of a master, was unpurposed metal. Whatever it was was unclear to Ben as the distance alluded him, but there was no mistaking that glisten. The way the sheen disappeared and reappeared as it manoeuvred it’s way around skin and bone was like a flashing star in Ben’s eyes. It was unlike any other metal Ben had ever seen in his 28 years. Like a magnet or a black hole, it pulled him in.

Being caught in the beauty of it all, Benjamin immediately had the urge to call out, “Hey!”

The elderly man rose his head from his stupor, and gave the soldier a less than glistening smile. Before the man could reply with a greeting of his own, Ben stormed towards him with agitated huffs of breath breaking through each step.

“That!” Ben said exaggeratedly while in step, “That is unpurposed metal!”

Out of angle, Ben couldn’t make out what it was that the man had, now in his palm, but there was no question, it was pure silver. The chain that draped across his bony knuckles had a shine like no other silver Ben had the pleasure of seeing. The elder put his contraband in a pocket inside of his jacket and he set himself square with the town’s security unit of one.

“Under the rules and regulations of Metaltown, and as a soldier of the Metaltown Military, I hereby demand that you give me your unpurposed metal.” Benjamin proclaimed, trying to puff out his chest to look more assertive.

The speech was over, but the altercation was far from it when the old man began his laughter. It was hearty, loud, and unrelenting.

Through his perp’s bountiful joy, Ben began his warnings again.

“If you are not willing to release the metal, then I will be forced to administer punishment upon you sir.”

More laughter. The old man could only laugh at the boy. Even in his giggle fit, he still found the confidence and time to sip on the last remaining drops of his forty.

Ben made sure to stand up straight, take a deep breath, and speak the words that were meant to be said to those during the age of ‘The Grace Period’. “The punishment is death.”

The giggling slowly came to a stop, and the man’s face grew serious. Dangerous. Virulent.

“Beware what you dare consider to be punishment, BOY.” The elder spat ‘boy’ out like vicious venom. The two men advanced and stood mere inches away. “You aren’t the whole government lad. You’re a pawn and a peon. If you’re here to administer punishment of death, then you must be weary of the punishment I will afflict on you when you least expect it.”

Ben stepped back, recoiling in fear that he dare not show on his face. He may have been able to maintain his facial composure, but the boy did not lose control of the footwork. A step back for Ben was a step forward in return.

“So we don’t have a disagreement then?” The man said, slinking ahead with a curious smile. “The truth is that you should’ve shot me the moment you saw me. We both know that, don’t we?” He asked.

Ben could only gulp. He did know.

The old man gestured to Benjamin’s holster, “You’ve got your precious metal on your side, and I’ve got my precious metal here,” he said, gesturing to his heart. “I’ve been dodging Grace for over 50 years. I don’t plan to die for this thing. I plan to die with it.”

“You choose it over posterity sir. What is it exactly?” Ben managed to ask with genuine curiosity.

The question jolted the old man back in defense. “As if I would discuss that with the likes of you.”

Two hands raised, clenched in fists, the old man was now truly on the defensive.

“You have made your claim, young one.” He said while trying to regulate his breathing as he began to get himself into a hop step. “It is the punishment of death for you or I.”

Ben froze in place, in total awe of the magnetism the old man had. His shoulders were raised making his frame look much larger than he was before, and his stance was that of an experienced fighter. His step was now in sync with his breathing and his body bob. Ben knew, that in a moment, something was going to happen. All those years of training at the MMA were either going to mean nothing, or everything.

A scuffle ensued. With only a second to react, Ben managed to side step the old man’s initial strike. An overhand right hook, that would’ve landed with the impact of a missile, whizzed past Ben’s nose, and with a quick step back, the boy tried taking the man to the ground. Unfortunately for the former, the latter was like a brick wall. He stuffed the attempted take down and wrapped his arms around Ben’s undefended waist. Ben had not been picked up since he was a child, but it was clear that the old man had no shortage of strength, and no intention of losing. The soldier’s feet left the ground, and Ben knew that if he didn’t do something to end this, it was he that would be ended much sooner. He realized his positioning atop the elder’s shoulders and predicted his method of attack. If Ben were to be killed here, the old man would drop him on his neck, plunging him back down to the ground from whence he came. With this knowledge, the soldier rolled his torso forward and with his right hand grabbed the man by the throat and lurched forward forcefully. Ben had the luxury of bringing his knees to his chest as he rolled, but the old man was not so lucky, as he was brought down hard onto the pavement.

Even the short fight brought Ben to a huff and a puff. He couldn’t hear the old man attempting to make another move, and he found that to be a chilling relief. Ben didn’t want to raise his head, or open his eyes to see what he had done in the name of posterity, but a croaking cough broke out from the old man and Ben felt compelled to nurse him.

“Boy,” He squeezed out. It was contrite this time. “Get me my metal.”

Ben looked at the injured with self-contempt. The boy went slow to be cautious of a deception, but was only met with creeping reality. He reached into the inside of the jacket and felt the warmth of the fur pocket. Nestled within it’s fibers was the feel of real silver in Ben’s hands. When he pulled it out, it shone even brighter up close and personal. A heart-shaped locket with metal etches of playful swirls and blooming flowers.

“What’s in it, sir?” Ben asked, hoping that he would now be worthy of the metal’s discussion before the man seized.

The old man’s eyes began to water and he spoke, “Only that which glistens.”

Ben opened it, and found him to be truthful. The silver shined. Possibly even brighter on the inside.

“Bring it to my eye, boy.” He ordered.

“Your eye?” Ben asked.

“Now!”

The metal met skin, and the tears fell to the bottom of the heart’s indent, forming the smallest little pool. Ben wondered how many times this pool had been made and washed clean before. The old man took a big breath of air, and Benjamin Kane let him speak uninterrupted until his being left his body soon after.

“My mother opposed the idea of this world. Metal glistening as far as the eye can see, standing in place of all of her past memories that are long gone by now. You’re lucky, boy. You were born here when it was already here. She and I weren’t. So always remember that tears glisten too.”

Ben waited for a few more minutes after he had finished. It was his eyes that would glaze next.