Belabor The Point

Belabor The Point

Packing dynamite should be a bot’s job. Except it isn’t. Bots are too expensive to replace. Whereas humans, they’re a dime a dozen and will put up with most things. It’s why my old man hammers out all day at the quarry. He and his friends drill holes, slam in wedges, and set charges.

They wear helmets. And other safety gear. But what’s that going to do when you’ve got tons of rocks coming down on you. Nothing. Still he goes. He swings his hammer, and he tries to keep his men safe.

There’s supposed to be alarms to warn the rest of the crew of an impending blast. It’s also supposed to be better if they don’t have to pick up the pieces of their friends and coworkers when they’re sorting the rubble. But that was. What’s now is something less, and yet dad keeps hacking away at the mountain. 

I went with him once. I swung the hammer. I packed the dynamite. I sorted the rubble. But there was never any bell, or alarm, or voice calling for everyone to get clear. It was my dad and his crew running about trying to warn the others, but never delaying the blast. Because if they delayed, they lost their jobs.


Today’s art is courtesy of Faraz Shanyar from Tehran, Iran.

Layers

Layers

Answering The Call

Answering The Call