excerpt
Engine Without Engineer
The frost had taken over this Sunday morning when Mike arrived at the Granville Street train yard for his morning shift. Mike and an engineer were supposed to spend their eight hours servicing yard engines, those slow and old machines that shift cars from one rail line to the other according to the schedule put together by the officials in black suits, who filled the offices of the CP Rail company and who make the good money as oppose to the labourers in the yards who take a 3.48 per hour and try to make ends meet based on that meagre hourly wage. A light whiteness covered everything: rails, wagons, the windshield of Mike’s car when he started his way downtown, the roof of the coffee house where he met Bruce, the young engineer, his boss for today, who was smoking his cigarette while enjoying a cup of hot coffee he had just brewed. Usually on weekends when the work was slow, and after they did their allotted work, they sat around in the coffee shop and smoked while at the same time enjoying the various magazines full of half-naked women with exquisite bodies and suggestive glances until the time came for them to punch their cards and go home. Today, of course, was a different day, and Mike’s immediate boss, a young engineer, just off the course the company was giving, showed a relaxed attitude which went well with his; surely, Mike wouldn’t tell this engineer what was of importance, he knew better than a simple labourer.
“Good morning, Bruce,” Mike said, and, going to the small table, he filled his cup with the hot brown potion. Adding two scoops of sugar and a little milk, he sat next to today’s boss and lit his cigarette as well.
Libros Libertad 