Damn, That's A Pretty Bridge.

“Damn, that's a pretty bridge, boy. Such a cryin' damn shame we gotta tear 'er down so soon. S'a cryin' damn shame. And after five years, too! Can hardly believe 'em.”


“Eh, you know Ricky, we gotta do whatever the bosses say.”


“Yeah, well I say fuck 'da bosses. Fine damn bridge we gotta tear down. Spent five fuckin' months on 'dat damn bridge, what pain in the ass, too. Problems out the ass and three men we lost on it! Three good men!”


“Yeah, I know Ricky. I was there.”


“Yeah, guess you was. But ya know, three good men die on a damn bridge, and here we all go tearin' 'er down.”


“Well, ya know Ricky, I don't remember you thinking they were such good men when they bit the dust, then.”


“They were still men, dammit. Men what deserved better than to die on a damn bridge what we gotta tear down five years later. And such a pretty damn bridge too.”


“Well, I just seem to remember you saying at the time that the one kid was better off dead, since he was such an--”

“You and ya damn 'I seem to remembers!' I can't help it you got the damn memory of a elephant! I think you just make shit up and say you remember it so's I'll look stupid.”


“Alright, Ricky. Whatever you say.”


“Yeah, that's right 'whatever I say.' I'm the damn boss on this crew and don't you forget it for a minute.”


“Yes, sir.”


“Damn straight, Bobby. Though now that I'm thinkin' about it, I'll give it to ya. That one kid, what was 'is name. . . Marty, was it? Yeah, Marty. What a fuckin' stink of a worker.”

“Ha, yeah.”


“Couldn't pour piss out of a boot with the 'structions written on tha heal!”


“Yeah, he was a dumb ass, huh.”


“My dad woulda said of that kid, he woulda said, 'That boy could fuck up a wet dream!'”


“Ha! I remember that time you said it was like they hadn't screwed his neural recepter all the way in and it was shorting out. Only thing could explain such a moron”


“Hehehe, yeah, what a fuckin' 'tard. Like he had the shakes or somethin'.”


“It made it all the funnier when he died from a power surge through the neural receptor on his rig though, didn't it?”

“Ah shit, I do remember that now. Poor kid. Weren't much good, and damn if those other two weren't niether, but damn, 'is still a shame. So many problems we had on this damn bridge and those boys dyin' in their chairs back home. And here we go tearin' it down.”


Wind whips over the surface of the bridge in streaks of blue methane skittering over its surface like demented little will-o-wisps, whistling through the the atmosphere in a never ending race. The pale sun's light doesn't do much this far out but the filters in the robots sensors correct that and it looks very serene to Bobby, the streaks of blue wind blowing fiercely over a broad flat surface, unbroken but by thin rails inset into it.


The bridge almost looks like a highway on Earth, but it's hard to get a sense of scale without reference, just seeing any short stretch at a time, seemingly floating in the air, suspended high over the surface on immeasurably tall stilts. From where the robots stand the surface is but an unseen certainty far, far below. The bridge is beautiful though, no one could deny. The colors reflect and refract off of it and it seems to be made out of glass or something more alien. Something blueish and luminescent, shimmering on a background of magically toxic atmosphere.


“Damn shame is all I'm sayin'. Still say the thing is cursed but I hate to see it go down.”


“Cursed? Ha! Ricky, you're crazy. Here we are and you think it's cursed.”


“Hey, you watch 'dat lip, kid. Anyways, wish these damn robot things didn't take so long ta' warm up.”


“Ha, I'd think you'd be used to it by now old timer.”


“Yeah, yeah. I ain't that old.”


“You know, I just don't get it either way. I mean, I appreciate the job and all, and it is rewarding, but I don't get why they need us. I mean, all this is built by robots anyway, but here we are, putting together the pieces that the robots have already built. Why not have the robots do it? Then no lost good men, as you'd say.”


“Yeah, see how 'dat turned out fo' the other outfits? Ha! Need 'dat human touch, and that's what we give 'em. Don't matter how much the robots do, peoples like 'ta see other peoples workin' on it. Makes 'em comfy and trustful.”


“Yeah, maybe. Still seems a waste. I mean, it's just robots running over it to carry all those minerals that the other robots got out of the ground. I mean, never even been a person involved in the whole process and yet we have to step in at this point and finish off the construction? Seems odd.”


“Eh well, either way the law says we gotta do the final construct, not like I care why. 'Bout ready to get movin'.”


A platform floats in the wind, outlets on each corner glowing hot with exhaust to keep it afloat, and on it stands the two robots, still and looking towards the bridge. Again, it's hard to get much reference of scale here, but they are large and intricate. Vaguely humanoid in shape, if a human were redesigned from the ground up to consist of every construction tool and apparatus ever made. If a human were designed to not be human.


“Ah shit, Bobby, I--”


“Fuck!”