I am a meticulous worker. I wouldn’t have this position if I wasn’t. In my job there is no room for error, and I enjoy that. It’s a challenge. I like that when I am working, I don’t have the room to think about anything else. When I am working, time doesn’t exist. Mum would be proud. Even if someone tries to rush me (which they do nearly every day), I stay in my groove. If I don’t feel like I can be committed enough, on a particular day, well then, I don’t work. Bear understands this. There is too much at risk for me to do a sloppy job. Plus, I am not the only fixer. Myra is a fixer too. We are the same age and considering the lack of options, you would think we might be friends, or more. Myra is very handsome. And that is about all I can tell you. Myra gives nothing away and despite the fact we have practically grownup side-by-side, and that we do the same job, I can’t tell you anything about them. We only ever talk about work and only when one of has a problem we can’t work out. Myra is always super uncomfortable when they have to ask me for help. I used it find it funny, even endearing, but as with most things, it has become annoying.
I wonder if I would still be annoyed, if I wasn’t on this street. My dad tells me that, “Wherever you go Button. There you are.” It is about as philosophical as he will get, and they aren’t even his words. They come from a man long dead; he taught a philosophy called mindfulness. This philosophy was popular for a time, and it was about being present in the moment and a lot of breathing. Mum talked to me about it before she died. It was after Bear and I had fought. She said something like, “This is it Button. This is your life. It isn’t ideal but it is happening, and you are in it. Can’t you just take a moment to appreciate.” It didn’t serve mum’s purpose that at that very second, a siren blared, and gun shots could be heard ricocheting against a wall. I sneered and spread my arms out, not even needing to illustrate my argument. And do you know what she did, with her snot nose kid? Button, who just had to be right. Mum came and hugged me, and she stroked my hair, “It is wonderful Button, this life. It might not feel like it, but it is. Just the smell of your hair makes me smile.”
These memories of her don’t make me sad anymore. I used to take them out as a form of torture. I would go over all the things that have happened, good and bad and I would pick the scab. If I ever thought that the scab had healed, I would start again, returning to the image, until I was hurting again. I am relieved that has passed now. I am grateful that I can appreciate her without the same level of pain.
When I am at my desk fixing guns, bullets, and all the related paraphernalia, I don’t think about their origin or their future. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to do my job. It is a necessary evil, our tribe have decided, and who am I to argue. I have no life experience to contradict them. I, who have never left this street. There are people in our tribe who traveled the world once upon a time. That seems like a fairy story to me. Tad, Bear’s deputy, has been to over fifty different countries in his life. His reliable countenance is reflected in what he says about his travels, “You’ve seen one place, you’ve seen them all.” I doubt that.
Once a bullet has been fired it will mostly be damaged by the impact, and often in someone’s body. Like everything else on this street, these merchants of death can be recycled. I just need the cartridge case brought back, and then I can re-fill it with a new bullet. I have a policy that I won’t take a dirty case. When I first started out, I was so naive. I felt proud that Bear had singled me out for training and I believed our cause to be righteous. Those weren’t my words, I was only thirteen and despite some bumps, my life hadn’t felt tragedy. Mum wasn’t keen on me training but, that just made the prospect even more enticing. Bear rarely ‘put his foot down’ with Silver. I understood from a very young age that the two were partners and power struggle was something I only witnessed outside of my home. But on this occasion, I heard my dad say, “I’m putting my foot down.” I was laying on the bunk upstairs, so I crept out and hovered at the top of the stairs waiting. I could tell this wasn’t a normal interaction between my parents and I wasn’t sure if there would be fighting or laughter. Laughter won and my mum chuckled her soft kind laugh,
“Bear are you being serious?” she asked her husband of many years.
“I’m sorry Silver, but I am.” he stayed softly spoken too and I was worried they would hear my breathing.
“Bear it is a ridiculous thing to say. One, you don’t have the power. Two, what does it mean, to put your foot down? How do you plan on doing that? And three, when did you start thinking you can to talk to me like that?” My mother remained calm, and I leant over the rail to see what would happen next. Dad took my mum’s hands, and he looked unusually small.
“I am sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. But Love, I think this is the best thing for Button. She is bored and taking it out on the little ones. She needs a skill; it might be that she is responsible for them one day. And I know how you feel about it, but it is a lucrative trade right now.” I didn’t hang around to hear her answers, as I knew them all by heart.
When I started out, I didn’t complain when someone brought in a plie of metal with blood and flesh holding it together. I would take the pile and deposit them in a bowl to be cleaned before working. It took me a year to make my own rules, and the first one was, the product needs to be clean before I handle it. The older customers had a problem with this; they wanted to drop and leave as soon as they had killed. We’ve been frequenting this shop for years and Bear has never had a problem with it! So, it went. I just remained firm and said, “New time. New rules.” And Bear backed me. He told me (in private) that he wished he had said the same, when he started out fixing. It wasn’t long before Myra followed suit and now the shop is a no blood area. It’s nicer that way.
It's not just bullets and guns that we fix, though it started out that way. But, it is our main trade. Bear boasts that we can fix pretty much anything, but the money is in violence, so we don’t spend much time on anything else. I think before mum died, Bear had some side projects, but that all left with her. He has become laser focused on the survival of the clan and our shop is at its heart. A heart which creates death. I said that to Bear recently, and he looked so cross. It reminded me that he no longer has a sense of humour. Another aspect of his evolution. He used to be funny; he used to be fun. He was a practical joker, and he encouraged us to be the same. It seems mad to think about that now. To think there was a time of laughter and lightness. When I mentioned this to Merv, he told me, “We all need to adapt; it’s that or we die.”
I wonder if Bear has a woman. I can’t see how he can cope with his world, if he doesn’t have some outlet. There are enough women who would be interested, I am sure. Power is attractive, not to mention that my father has aged well. “Good genes.” he says but I think it is because he never got involved with The Drugs. Bear says The Drugs came like a famine. One day they arrived on the street and the results were fast acting. Bear was young at the time; he hadn’t even met Silver. He said all his friends tried them and most stayed stuck. Bear was suspicious and he kept wanting to know about the source, he kept asking, “Where are they coming from? Why are they free?” And the most potent, “What will the long-term effects be?” The long-term effects are death, but that’s no real deterrent. Everything is going to kill you living here. But The Drugs make it a messy death and usually not a solo experience. When someone on The Drugs is feeling the impact of their last hours, they’ll take anyone down with them. It’s like they become the literal hand of death. It is why we are vigilant and even the slightest hint of The Drugs and we act. You can tell who is on The Drugs by the way they walk and their drooping facial expression. Bear warned me not to be fooled by that, “They might look dumb, slow, but they are anything but. Something in the chemical gives them strength, and when the buzz is gone, they get very angry.”
I can see the temptation, even though I know the facts. The idea of being taken away from here, even if only temporarily. To be able to see things differently, it’s appealing. Especially when you have a mind like mine. And I am not ruling it out. The thing that holds me back (it used to be Bear), is pride. I believe Bear when he says that The Drugs were sent to the street as a form of control. I believe him because I can see the aftermath, years later. The children that were born from addicts have no strength to do anything but survive, no strength to question, to plan, to rebel. My pride won’t allow me to take something that is a malevolent trick and designed to handicap me.