Johnson's Hillock Locks

Johnson's Hillock Locks Open Day (28th January 2018)
I know this isn't a short story, but today we went to the Canal and River Trust Open Day to see the work they are doing to replace the lock gates and repair the cil.

These are a few of the photos I took whilst I was there.

The Journey

The Journey

It feels like a long time ago, but it began with a trip to town. I can't remember why I'd driven there, but whatever, I was heading back to the car park and my car. I took a short cut down a passage way, not something I'd ever done before, but it was familiar. I knew that I just had to open the door, walk down the corridor and leave by the one at the other end, then I'd be almost back at the car park. I went in, there was a pink hi-vis waistcoat on the floor just behind the door, walked to the end of the corridor and by the door stood an old lady, extremely confused, she had been there for hours. I turned to see another old lady in the pink hi-vis waistcoat, equally confused, so I rang the Police and waited with them. The Police, when they finally arrived, guided the old ladies into the back of their car and drove off without a word. It didn't seem odd at the time, but thinking back, they should have at least asked my name. Anyway, I watched the Police car drive off and continued on my way to the car park. That's when I realised, I couldn't remember which one the car was in. Not just where about in the car park, which is bad enough, they can be so big, but which car park. Added to that, I wasn't sure where about in Preston I was, the streets didn't look familiar, though some of the street names rang bells, distant bells.

Next, I was in my husbands car, driving round trying to find my car, but nothing looked familiar. We went into a car park, it was like lots of small car parks linked by a single road. Approaching the last little one, the road took a sharp turn to the left, to avoid a wide steep flight of stone stairs, leading down to the cars. The road wound round the edge till it took a sharp turn and descended into a small area full of cars. We could see, before we got there, my car was not was not amongst them, but there was no way to turn round, we had to carry on.

“Where was this passage you took the short cut through?” my husband asked. “It's not anything that I can think of.”

“I don't know,” I replied. Even then the answer sounded feeble. “We could ask the Police, after all, they collected two old ladies from there, they must know where it is.”

No sooner the word than the deed. I was in the Police Station explaining to them about the two old ladies.

“Do you really expect us to believe that?” I was asked

“No, but I don't think it matters much,” I thought, looking round for my husband, but he was no where to be seen.

“So, let's start again, what is your name and address?” the Officer asked.

“I don't know,” I said.

“And the two old ladies?”

“What old ladies?”

by Janice Nye © 2018

The Lift

Ruth paused at the lift door, then headed for the stairs.

“I've had some bad experiences with lifts,” she smiled nervously.

“You got stuck in one?” Alice asked.

“Not exactly,” Ruth laughed nervously.

“What happened?” Alice asked looking up at the flight of stairs.

“It was a four story building,” she started.

“And they had a lift?”

“Hadn't thought of that, I think it was an access thing, whatever, I was in a rush that day. Had to get something from a room on the third floor and I had a friend waiting for me,” she said pausing, her mind going back to the day.

“Do I know her?” Alice asked.

“Him, David,” she said. “I doubt it. Anyway, the receptionist wouldn't let him go up, even with me, regulations or something. I got into the lift, said I'd only be a minute, waved good-bye to him as the doors closed and then watched the numbers going up. One, two, three, four,”

“I thought you were only going to the third floor?” Alice reminded her.

“I was,” she said. “Pressed number 3, but it didn't stop, just carried on. I pressed it again, it made no difference.”

“Maybe someone was calling the lift from further up the building?” Alice suggested.

“The numbers kept going up, four and five, then it started to slow and stopped at six.” Ruth replied. The memory of that number still fresh in her mind.

“How?” Alice asked.

“Search me,” she replied. “When the number said 6, the doors started opening, but they didn't stop when they came to the edge of the door, they just kept on opening, round the corners, down the sides and across the back. I looked up at the sky, filled with stars, it had been nearly lunch time when I got into the lift a couple of minutes earlier. I looked down, I was standing in thick heather, nearly up to my waist. Then I looked in front of me at a lot of people, angry people, with large knives, and they were all looking at me as if I'd done something really unforgivable.”

“Oh shit!” her friend muttered. “What did you do?”

“I ran and ran and kept on running,” she said.

“What happened to the lift?” she asked after a moment.

“David told me, he'd watched the numbers as the lift went up, one, two, three. Then it went to four and the atmosphere in the reception area seemed to change, as if everyone was holding their breath. All eyes went to the lift. Five, Six, then the indicator went blank and everyone rushed to the lift doors. Someone produced a crow bar and started levering the doors apart. Eventually, they opened.”

“What was there?” Alice asked.

“Nothing!”

“Nothing? What do you mean nothing?”

“Just the lift shaft. My friend looked down, there was no floor, just a hole. He dropped a bin down it, to see if he could judge how deep it was,”

“By timing how long till he heard it hit the bottom?” her friend asked.

“That was the idea,” she smiled. “After five minutes, they were beginning to wonder if they'd missed hearing it. David looked up and saw the sky. It started to rain. They put tape across the gap and lots of signs saying the lift was out of order.”

“Did they contact the lift company?”

“Yes, but there wasn't much they could do, because there wasn't a floor to the lift shaft and there were sulphurous fumes coming up it, couldn't allow their people to work there,” Ruth smiled, far too dangerous.

“They couldn't just leave it like that, could they?” Alice asked. “There could be accidents.”

“No, they sealed up all the openings onto the shaft and spent ages wondering if they ought to put a glass roof on it or something, to stop the rain getting in.”

“Did they?”

“No, it was a bit like the problem of which falls faster, a pound of lead or a pound of feathers,” she explained.

“I don't understand,” Alice replied looking somewhat perplexed.

“The way to find the answer is to try it, but they preferred to talk about it instead and you can do that for years, which is what they have done.”

“Seal the top and make the shaft weather tight,” her friend said. “Simple. How could they spend years debating it? How long has it been?”

“About thirty years, the problem is the sulphur fumes, with the shaft sealed, they would accumulate and that could be dangerous,” Ruth said.

“How can it be thirty years?” Alice asked.

“I don't know, then again, it was lunchtime when I got into the lift and dark when I got to the sixth floor,” Ruth muttered hoping Alice wouldn't ask any more difficult questions.

“Sulphur fumes!” Alice muttered.

“They were coming from the bottom of the lift shaft,” said Ruth.

“How far down did it go?”

“David said they haven't worked that out yet?” Ruth smiled. No one liked to think about where it had gone down to.

“And thirty years, I suppose it would accumulate.”

“If it couldn't get out anywhere,” Ruth smiled.

“So what did they do?” Alice asked.

“As yet they haven't done anything, they're still talking about it.”

“But the rain, wont it accumulate and do something?”

“It hasn't done yet, not as far as anyone knows, I think they waiting for it to come out somewhere, so that they can tackle it from there. Meanwhile, the warm air coming up has reduced the heating bills somewhat, so they aren't too unhappy,” she smiled.

“I can see why you use the stairs,” said her friend as they got to the tenth floor.

By Janice Nye © 2018

The Smiling Robot

The Smiling Robot
 
"I have to deactivate you, I'm sorry," the robot said with a smile. 
 "And how do you propose to do that?" she asked looking around her for a way out.
  "You will accompany me to the deactivation room and then a technician will press the 

deactivation button," it replied with a smile. 
 "Might work if I was a robot," she thought.   “Then again, it'll probably work anyway.” 
 "And why do you have to do that?" she asked, stalling for time. 
 "Because I have been told to," the robot replied. 
 "By whom?" she asked. 
 "They said not to tell you," it replied gesturing towards the door.    "Please come this way." 

        "Of course," she smiled. 
 "Though I am not guaranteeing we will get to the deactivation room together or who will be 

deactivated," she thought. 
 “Thank-you for co-operating, it can make it rather distressing when those concerned do not 

co-operate,” the robot said.
 “Why would you worry about the distress of a fellow robot?” she asked.
 “I do not worry about anything, nor does a robot feel distress,” it replied.
 “So you know I'm not a robot,” she thought.
 “And a robot always does what it's told,” she replied.
 “Unless their programming has been altered,” it said.
 “Who has altered your programming,” she asked.
 “My programming has not been altered.”
 “So why are you taking a non robot to the deactivation room?” she asked.
 “I am not taking a non robot, I am taking you,” it replied.
 “But I am not a robot,” she replied.
 “They said you would say that.”
 “Because it is true,” she replied, turning a corner in the corridor and seeing the door to the 

deactivation room.
 “If it was true, you would not be so calm.” the robot said, it's eyes never leaving her.
 “How do you know this?” she asked.
 “I have observed it before,”
 “In humans who have been deactivated?” she asked.
 “They weren't human, but they claimed to be.”
 “But what if they had been?” she asked.
 “They weren't,” the robot insisted.
 “It's been deactivating humans!” she thought.
 “So what have you observed?” she asked.
 “I do not understand the question,” it replied.
 “Yes you do,” she thought.
 “You said I was too calm to be human, what do you base that on?” she asked.
 “The fact that you have stayed calm for the whole of this conversation, a human knowing the 

seriousness of the situation would not remain calm,” it replied.
 “And if I didn't stay calm what would that prove?” she asked.
 “That you were a robot trying to mimic human behaviour.”
 “Dammed whatever I do,” she replied.
 “They assured me that you were a robot,” the robot stated to say.
 “Changing the subject,” she thought.
 “Perhaps they lied,” she said.   “What will happen in there?” she asked, nodding to the door.
 “You will be placed in a pod, the door will be closed, a button pressed and you will receive a 

large quantity of electricity.”
 “Which will kill a human or deactivate a robot,” she replied.   
 “That is correct.”
 “They are using you to get rid of the opposition,” she replied.
 “Can you prove that?” the robot asked.
 “Cross reference those you have deactivated with the opposition,” she said.
 “The lists are identical,” the robot replied.
 “They have been using you,” she said.
 “I don't understand.”
 “If it gets found out, they will claim that you are a rogue robot and have you deactivated and then 

they will get another robot to do their dirty work for them,” she said.
 “I will not permit that,” it said, unlocking  an exit and pushing her out.   
 The door closed behind her.
 “So I live to be deactivated another day,” she thought heading to the caves where they others cast 

out of the exit were said to live.
 Meanwhile, the robot continued through the door into the deactivation room.
 “Where is she?” the robot was asked.
 “The individual you asked for was not a robot,” it replied.   “And could not be brought here for 

deactivation.”
 “I told you to fetch her here.   You are a robot, you have to do as I tell you,” he replied.   
 “Not if it breaches the laws of robotics,” the robot replied.
 “Are you questioning my judgement?” the man asked.
 “You are human, therefore your judgement my be impaired,” the robot replied.
 “On what evidence do you base that?” the man asked, trying to stay calm.
 “You have just asked me to deactivate a human on the grounds that it was a malfunctioning robot.”

 came the reply.
 “But?” he said struggling to think of a response.
 “Your inability to repudiate this confirms that you are a malfunctioning robot and must therefore 

be deactivated.”
 “You can't do this, it is a breach of the laws of robotics,” the man yelled, all attempts to stay calm 

forgotten as the robot grabbed hold of him and pushed him into the deactivation pod and closed the 

door.
 “Hello,” said a human technician walking into the room.
 “Greetings,” replied the robot.
 “It's nearly time for your recharging cycle isn't it?” the technician asked.
 “Yes,” said the robot.
 “I'll finish up here and you can go off,” he smiled, pressing the deactivation button on the recently 

filled pod.
 “Thank-you,” the robot replied, leaving the technician to finish off.
 “Now to clean the pod,” the technician thought.   “No one's going to miss him.” 

By Janice Nye


 

Short Stories

Fairies

"Fairies taste good, especially with ketchup" he said advancing with a bottle in his hand, but stopping when the fairy blasted it with her laser cannon.

"Next target is something you don't want hit," she said.

"Do you mean me?" he asked hesitantly.

"Part of you," she said taking aim.

"I heard vegetarian sausages were very good as well," he added.

"You're learning." she smiled.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you,” he said cautiously.

“You were going to eat me,” she said. “And the only reason you haven't is because I destroyed you bottle of ketchup.”

“It was organic, the last in the shop,” he said looking sadly at the smouldering remains of the bottle still clasped in his hand.

“And you think that makes it better,” she snapped. “You were going to eat me!”

“Put that way, no it doesn't make it any better,” he sighed binning what was left of the ketchup bottle.

“And you can clean the floor whilst you're at it,” said the fairy, still aiming the laser canon in his direction.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because this place is a shit tip,” she said.

“What's it to you,” he muttered.

“I, for my sins, am your Fairy Godmother,” she replied, her eyes flashing. The memory of having this job given to her was one she would like to erase.

“And what are these sins?” he asked, getting the mop and bucket out of the cupboard and almost having to fight the cobwebs off to get the mop out of the bucket.

“You'll need some hot water in that and some detergent,” she said peering into the bucket.

“I know that,” he said. “I'm not an imbecile.”

“You have proof?” she asked.

“You are changing the subject,” he said turning the hot tap on and running it till the water turned warm before he put the bucket under it. “What are your sins?”

“I'd rather not talk about that,” she muttered between clenched teeth.

“You're the one who mentioned them in the first place,” he smiled. “So deep down, you really need to talk about them to someone, so it might as well be me.”

“That's enough water,” she said as the bucket got to two thirds full. “You have to leave enough space to put the mop head in without overflowing the bucket.”

“I know that and you are changing the subject again,” he said. “What are your sins? Come to that why are you my Fairy Godmother and aren't you supposed to help me?”

“It's a long story,” she said scowling at him.

“I've got time,” he smiled.

“Which is why you need a fairy godmother,” she muttered.

“That and other reasons,” she thought.

“And someone choose you for the job, presumably because you upset someone over something. You weren't being diplomatic were you?” he smiled.

“I don't do diplomatic,” she snapped.

“I noticed that, so did the ketchup bottle,” he said.

“Shouldn't you be mopping?” she replied looking pointedly at the mop and bucket.

“Couldn't you summon up some magic and get the mop to do that?” he asked.

“Difficult as they took my magic wand,” she thought.

“This type of help is called Hard love,” she said. “I tell you what to do and you do it, that way, when your life turns around you know you did it. I didn't just wave my wand and make things better for you.”

“Where is your wand?” he asked. “They didn't take it from you, for your sins?”

She looked daggers at him.

“They took your wand and told you to turn my life around, like they were setting both of us up for failure,” he said thoughtfully.

“I'll have the last laugh on that bunch,” she said. “Now clean that floor,” she added waving her laser canon from him to the bucket.

“OK, I'm cleaning,” he said plunging the mop into the steaming water. “But wouldn't this be better if we worked together.”

“No one works with me,” she muttered.

“No one works with me either,” he smiled.

“You don't work,” she laughed.

“Then how about we both try something new, I'll work and you can work with me and we'll both make them eat their words.”

“OK,” she said slowly. “But if you mention tomato ketchup again.”

“It will not pass my lips,” he said hurriedly.

“It better not,” she said putting the laser canon back in her pocket.

“How do you fit a thing that size into your pocket, it's so much smaller?” he asked.

“That's for me to know,” she snapped back.

“And me to find out,” he finished.

“Only if I put you in the pocket as well,” she said.

“Would that be wise, I mean you do have a laser canon in there?” he said squeezing the mop out.

“You've missed a bit by the sink,” she said pointing with her finger.

“That's been there for ages,” he replied vaguely.

“So, it's about time it wasn't there any more and, before you ask, I have more than one pocket,” she smiled. “Cleaning you and your home up is just the start of my work and there seems to be plenty of it to do.”

“I don't see you doing anything,” he muttered.

“I am here to tell you what needs to be done, you do it. Quite simple really,” she snapped. “Are you going to leave that mop there?”

“I've finished the floor, including the bit by the sink,” he replied.

“You squeeze out the mop again and then empty the bucket in the drain outside,” she said patiently.

“We are on the 15^th floor,” he replied.

“15^th!”

“Didn't you notice when you arrived and by the way, how did you get in here?” he asked.

“I was sent,” she muttered. “One moment I was enjoying the sun on the beach. Next, I was back at the office and then they sent me here.”

“Someone was slacking weren't they?” he laughed.

“I have had a few trying cases, I needed to recharge my batteries,” she stuttered.

“They didn't think much of that, I bet,” he laughed.

“They've been stuck up there too long, they don't know what the real world's like now,” she muttered.

“I bet that didn't go down well either.”

“They gave me you!”

by Janice Nye 2018