[0 - Austria]
*It is evening in a little city in Austria. The storm outside roars. The old grandma sits in a big armchair alongside her curious, 18 year old granddaughter. The grandmas hair is already white, thin and lying softly on her shoulders. Even though today isn't a particular festive day, she put on a special blue and white dress with a lot of garments and little crystals.
After getting cozy she starts to tell a story. A story of the beginning of a family secret: a story about a white transparant and partially opaque stone that somewhat managed to change their history.*
You could already hear another bell being hieved towards the smelter from a kilomiter away. It was a feral scraping on the rough gravel with the precious metal of a once important churche property.
Almost nobodey cared about it because the people were grateful for every scrape of iron that they could get at this time. So they just carried it towards that cheaply and probably illegally built smelter. The owner constructed it inside an old stone house. This place isn't too far from here but the building already got demolished after the war.
My job at that time was to have a look after the precut bits of metal that went past me on a conveyerbelt. I watched them through a small glass hatch shortly befor they fell through a hole into the smelter only to become part of the melted iron.
*the grandma exclaimed:*
"I liked to call it: 'the devils butthole'"
"Whoa there! Where do you get those words from? Now that sounds a bit too vulgar for me. Doesn't it?" *the granddaughter smiles a little bit*
"Well, only if it wouldn't have fit so perfectly. Do you want some biscuits?"
"Yes! But why did you make ginger-bread? It's not even winter yet."
"If you get to my age you will realise that you shouldn't wait for christmas to come around. Just enjoy those little delights. I don't even know when the last time was that you had some home made ginger-bread biscuits. It could've been years!"
"Or just yesterday. But yours are normally better than those from my recepies. You don't mind if I take some for my friends too, do you?"
"Take all of them if you want. Now back to what I wanted to tell you."
Because it was mostly iron that was repurpessed, the owner of that place changed his surname to "Eisinger" (Eisen being german for iron). His daughter, this cruel creature, was often working just a few meters away from me. Because she was her dads pride and joy she would normally just bully me regularly without any consequences. I think she wouldn't have tried to if she had been younger than me. Well, but she was 18 by then and not someone to mess around with. Trust me.
If I let a wrong or too big material even get the possibility to obstruct the furnace this beast would either tell her dad or take away my tool to fish the sharp pieces out of the hot tube around the conveyer belt. Because I didn't want to get fired I let her take it away and had to let the scrapes burn me into my skin. I can't count how many times I came home crying under the pressure and pain she put me in. Some scars are still visible today.
I know this side fact isn't exactly what you came for, right? But it will matter soon enough. You surely remember the church bell from the beginning right? As the parts came by I had to pull out a huge ammount of unuseful parts and because the workers apparently are to dumb to cut a big piece of the bell in half the handle of my tool broke at the attampt to get the huge thing out. It got stuck in the walls of the metal tube and held all upcoming parts back. Therefor it was close to shutting off the entire machinery.
I was scared to loose my job and with my brain shutting off I not only opened the window hatch like normally but also a part of the metal tube. Normaly this was only opened when we had to clean the machine. This time I didn't try to clean anything or wrangle the metal out but instead I tried to push the metal directly into the smelter opening. You can call it a mix of panic and fear I was rushed over with, hitting the sharp and heated metal with bare hands. A disgusting burning smell flew my way and my vision got blurry in that moment. I couldn't feel the pain at first. Just this forshadowing, brutally cold feeling in my hands before the body sends the clear signal to the brain that it was hurting like hell.
I still don't understand how I managed to pull it off alone but with all my energy I finally unclogged that unholy thing and production could continue. My shock didn't fly away immediatly but rather stayed for upcoming pieces while pain started to crawl into my hands, up the arms and down my spine. My vision also got a bit worse but shape and color of upcoming metal parts was all I needed to see in my job and there it was. A rather round metal came my way but its colour was way to bright for regular iron. I picked it out with my right hand and the feeling of it was rather different than anything I've picked out before. It wasn't hot as a teakettle but rather a warming mug of hot choclate.
Seconds later it rang, signaling the end of my nightshift. I can't remember how I got home. Apparently your grandfather Karl waited outside to bring me home. I woke up with my left hand completely wrapped up in bandages. It felt like it had gone through hell, which it kind of did to be honest. Karl of course sat by my desk again. But this time not scetching some of his feral ideas onto a piece of paper but rather looking carefully at the round metal from the end of the shift, that I unintentially took with me. I was lucky that the beast of the chef wasn't there that day. It had cost me half of my left pinky finger and a whole month of pain but in the end I could at least keep this important job.
"And that's the end of the story. Karl of course studied the stone like crazy over the next few years but you already know that part. Is there any other thing you'd like to know?"
"No, but thank you. Even though I still don't fully understand the stone I at least kind of know where it came from." *she sighs* "By the way: Is the so called 'beast' still alive today? And why wasn't there anyone around to help you?"
"The first answer is: no. If I remember correctly it was about 12 years ago in Brighton that she died. In July 2006. And regarding the second question it was quite simple: Eisinger just didn't want to spend a lot of money. He invested into a big machinery in order to employ as little personal as possible. In short: on night shifts there wouldn't be anyone around to help you in an emergency. And those who worked were well payed to stay silent about the horrendous working conditions. That's also why I didn't quit."
"He had a very weird strategy and I could talk about your past all day. But I have to leave now. I don't know when I'll be back."
"I'll be waiting for you then. But I have one last wish. If you have the time: can you say hi to Mark for me? You know, the one guy who had worked alongside my dad at one point. I always loved that fella."
"Right. I'll try to. He's in London right?" *the grandma nods* "Okay. Bye then!"
*After a warm hug Anastasia's granddaughter gets up, puts on her black hat and long jacket. She leaves through the door next to the chimney. The thunder outside roared and from the glimps of an eye the old woman could see a lightning brighten the nightsky. From now on it is quiet in the lonely old flat. Only a very long exhaling breath could be heard that night.*