He had always reckoned there was something subversive about Mr Wells and the room at the back of the old man’s high street watch and clock repair emporium.
The well-oiled lock offered little resistance.
What he found, no decent person should see. He sat down heavily, slumped, head between his knees, fighting the nausea. It was a machine, not of this time, but of another, a machine to bring together the poor and the rich, the clothed and the naked, the peoples of the south and the peoples of the north.
Knowing his civic duty, he reached for his sledgehammer.
Written in response to to Flywheel Wisoff-Fields’ weekly 100 word challenge found here.
patrickprinsloo 
I feel like I already know the beginning of the story, your part is just around the corner, and the ending will be very bad unless enough people get together now and decide they have finally had enough.
Dear Patrick,
It’s been a while. Good but chilling story.
Shalom,
Flywheel
Thank you yet again. Stay well oiled.
And that idea of civic duty will be our certain doom 😦
Yiu have it right.
👍
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Thank you, daughter.
Big Brother doesn’t like innovative change it might hurt his financial pocket – me thinks.
Financial pocket good, change bad!
Bringing people together? Disgusting idea!
Sorry. Just a story.
Oh, no, you really shouldn’t leave us hanging like this! What a great beginning for a longer story!
Sorry, babe, 100 words only. Blame Rochelle!
🙂
Yikes. Now what? Interesting story.
Not sure what happens next? Status maintained, probably.
🙂