cousin Del and dad had been talking. dad said I was a lazy good for nothing bum who didn't have a clue about what happened out in the real world and it was time I changed my ways and got with the programme. then he made a fist and slammed it down on the coffee table, making it shake. cousin Del said that maybe five years old was just a little too soon to be sending a kid out into the workplace, but dad said that he'd been working for as long as he could remember, and if there's sauce for the goose then there's got to be sauce for the gander. cousin Del looked confused but said he knew a man who knew a man who might be able to put in a word somewhere, favours were owed, if dad was sure about it. dad said he was downright bloody certain, and it would be a weight off his shoulders and a weight in his pocket, then laughed.
mind if I take a cigarette? cousin Del said and didn't wait to be told no this time.
the uniform was too big for me, it was the smallest size they had though. I was bang out of options, it was a pre-requisite of working there.
might this not be a safety hazard? I said, tripping over the hem of my t-shirt and performing an impromptu somersault.
stop fooling around, said my supervisor, this isn't a place for fooling around, there's work to do here, not fooling around.
my supervisor was about twelve years old with a very limited vocabulary, but had a moustache despite his age, the faint outline of a future moustache in any case. he prodded me in the chest with a fat finger.
you look like you've been pampered up to now you baby. well, you won't be getting any special treatment, not here. stop crying.
I tried to explain again, the mistake that had been made. all my friends have started school, I said, they'll all be doing bubble-painting right now and gluing pasta to hardboard. I should be there instead, learning fundamental skills.
no school for you, he said. for one thing, you owe me for one t-shirt already, and that's going to cost you three weeks' before we even get started on wages.
I have to pay for this? I said holding up my t-shirt for inspection. it hardly seemed worth three weeks' work, but then I didn't know the worth of anything so I couldn't be sure. but I'll get behind and won't be able to catch up, this is an important point in my learning schedule, if I miss out on the basics I'll have nothing to build from.
my supervisor gave me one of his sneers. it's a cruel world, he said, you'd better get used to it, there's a lot of shit to be eaten before you get anywhere near the exit door. it never did me any harm, missing all that play. bloody students.
there didn't seem to be any way out of it, I'd have to pay off what I owed before I could think about starting school. I started snivelling again and thought back to what dad had said about biting the bullet or finding myself without a roof over my head. it looked like my mind had been made up for me.
what is it I have to do? I said.
did your cousin Del not pass on the message to you that I gave to our mutual friend? he said.
I had got a message, but I hadn't understood it, something about roaming cloistered. Chinese whispers can have a strange effect on a message, plus cousin Del has an impediment.
he's not really my cousin anyway, I said, it's just a familiarity thing dad imposed, for the sake of giving him a title. I don't like him too much to be honest, his fingers are yellow and he suffers from catarrh, I can't keep up with half the things he says.
very interesting, said my supervisor, but if you think I care even the slightest about you and yours you're sadly mistaken. you're a cog that fits a hole and that's all. I see this whole park like a giant machine must be kept working whatever the cost, teeth must bite, wheels must turn. anything else is beyond my job description, I don't care if your cousin Del is a shaved baboon.
his eyes took on a misty sheen, tears were welling. this is a strange adolescent I thought, getting emotional about mechanisation.
just imagine the look on the man's face who invented the cog, he said. picture the look on his face as he watched one mesh with another for the first time, interaction take place and the spinning begin with a low rumble. it must have been like watching magic.
I'm a cog? I said. I was confused, dad had told me I was a boy and not to get involved in figurative language.
you're the cog in charge of the roller-coaster, he said, the last kid left yesterday after he'd paid off his coat. I need a replacement, otherwise the system will collapse totally, if there's one thing I know it's machines. one cog goes missing and boom! the machine stops. and that can't happen, never.
but I've never looked after a roller-coaster before, I said, I'll need instruction.
he looked at the floor, he didn't seem to understand.
we don't do training here, so you'll just have to work round it.
this didn't seem too feasible to me. I screwed up my face.
look, it's a lot like learning to ride a bike when you think about it, he said, once you've got the hang of it, you never forget.
I don't know how to ride a bike either, I said. and I don't think that's much help anyway, if I don't know in the first place.
then you'd better learn quick, he said, the gates open in half an hour, and there'll be trouble if you kill anyone, it'll be me you're answering to.
green starts and red stops, he said, and don't go touching those brakes unless there's sparks on the track. brakes cost extra and we aren't here to spend the extra. there was a panel in the control box with two buttons, red and green, and four switches, all black. my slack-jawed reflection stared back at me from the perspex window. there didn't seem to be a whole lot I could do but have an experiment and see what happened. I got on tip toes and pressed the green button: the harnesses on the cars descended slowly over imaginary shoulders and locked tight. my bottom lip dropped, there was no turning back. the whole machine gave a giant fart then the train moved off up the ramp with a death rattle. the cars wobbled a couple of times, gripping on to the track as tightly as I once did at the nipple not so long ago, then shot down the steep incline, went through a 360° loop before spinning around in a figure of eight for a while. I closed my eyes, certain that when I opened them a smoking pile of twisted metal would be lying on the ground, but finally the train moved back in the direction of the station and I pressed the red button. everything stopped. I wondered how many times the train had derailed and whether I could keep it on the tracks for the next three weeks. I decided to leave the black switches alone, they looked like they might bring me trouble.
you the new kid? I heard a voice shout from outside the door.
it was a fat old man with white hair and a face like it was a cold January morning.
I am, I said. new to the world and newer still to this place.
he shook his head. imagine them putting a young kid like you on a ride like this, he said. it's irresponsible is what it is.
you'd best elaborate, I said, I'm still learning responsibilities, I aren't all that sharp to be honest.
forty-four people have died on this ride already this year, he said, you'd best go easy with it, it's got a mind of its own some folk say.
he shuddered.
I tried to imagine how the metal could have a mind of its own, but couldn't work out where it would live. all the same, it certainly seemed possible. the old man continued talking.
and they knock five pounds off your wages for every fatality, so a couple of deaths and you'll be working all season just to pay off the compensation. that's the last thing a working man needs.
what is it you do? I said.
the dodgems, he said with a smile, I know a man who knows a man. the supervisor's my son if you must know. he looked proud.
want to swap rides? I said.
not really, no one ever dies on the dodgems and I've got debts to pay and a family to feed. much as I'd like to engage in some worker solidarity, it's just not economically viable, not in the present climate. read the safety instructions, he said, you might get something from those.
I can't read, I said, I'm only five.
me neither, he said sadly.
I'd learn if I was you, it might be an exit.
the snake of people coiled around the fence that protected the roller-coaster from potential vandals and hooligans, there were hundreds of them waiting to jump on and be scared witless. I was concerned for their safety before and during the ride, there was a lot of crushing going on down there, but I was working as fast as I could. someone from over on the merry-go-round shouted to me to work slower, that if I carried on at that pace everyone in the park would be queuing for a ride, seeing the line move so fast. so I slowed down and pressed the buttons more lightly too. but people kept coming, day on day more arrived in cars and buses in search of fun and joined the back of the queue.
what are you doing old man, teaching bad habits to the new cog? I heard the supervisor shout in the direction of the dodgems.
sorry sir, said a frightened voice.
I don't want to go on the roller-coaster, a boy cried at me as the harnesses lowered themselves and held him tightly in place. I'm scared there'll be an accident, I just know it, I'm unlucky see.
then why did you bother queuing up? I said, you could see what was coming up, couldn't you?
all my friends wanted to ride, he said. let me off.
I'm afraid I can't, I said, once I've pressed the button, no one can get off.
what about the switches? he said.
I don't know anything about them, now hold tight.
the crunching began and the cars went up, span around for a while then came to a halt. the boy was crying at the end when I released him, but tears of joy now, not sadness.
thank you, he said, I'd never have done it without you, you've made me a man. I want to be the roller-coaster man when I've finished school now.
there were a lot like him. some of them still weren't having fun when the train stopped though. but that was hardly my fault.
the boy who covered lunch breaks, a seven year old, was always stoned when I came back, the whole control room stank of dope for the rest of the afternoon, I got concerned that I was becoming passively addicted.
can't you stop that? I said, it isn't right for a boy to be stoned at the controls of the roller-coaster. think of your developing lungs if nothing else.
this is the only way I can manage, he said, I don't know how you do it watching those people fly round, strapped to this dying machine, they could all plummet at any moment to certain death. he started twitching.
it's their choice, I said, I didn't tell them to come, I didn't even tell them it was safe.
but you provide the illusion of safety, he said, it's all on your back if the train falls. without you here pressing the buttons, no one would even think once about jumping on. it's crazy, the whole world has flipped.
you're freaking me out, I said, stop trying to destroy the mental safety net I've constructed for myself, I've only got another few days, then it doesn't matter.
and then what? he said.
I hadn't thought that far ahead yet.
I was arguing with a grumpy parent, there were a lot of angry people around for somewhere that people came to in order to have fun.
the sign says he must be this high, I said and put my hand level with the mark.
the kid's head was almost a foot away still, he must have been about six months old, he was wearing a nappy.
I didn't see the sign, he says. that's just a recommendation though surely. I paid to get in here, and the customer is always right. I don't appreciate your intervention.
and I don't appreciate the fact that you made him wear platform soles either, I said. I've been trained to spot that kind of trick, I lied, I should report you.
oh, come on, he said, let the kid have a whirl.
some people in the queue starting shouting and agreeing with him, my back was against the wall, I expected a rifle shot any minute. but my stoned co-worker had got me thinking, I was developing a real conscience.
no, I said. there are rules.
life's a roller-coaster, he said, how's the kid supposed to know about life if he can't get on the roller-coaster?
life isn't a roller-coaster, I said, a roller-coaster is a metal or sometimes wooden structure upon which cars travel at great speed along a narrow track performing amazing feats which appear to defy the laws of aerodynamics. life on the other hand is a mystery. I don't see the correlation.
a box of chocolates? he suggested.
no, I said, definitely not that, and neither is it a piece of cake or a gift from the gods or a stage for that matter. now go away and come back later, he might be due a growth spurt.
the supervisor came round for the first time since my first morning. there was a whip in his hand and a growl in his throat.
so, he said, how many have you killed so far? he took a calculator from his inside pocket to do the sums and tot up what I was owing.
none, I said, not a single individual. there was one minor laceration, but I dealt with it myself, you won't be hearing about it again.
I thought about the pile of bodies and limbs that I'd swept away under the loop and felt a cold sweat form on my forehead. I'd be there a lifetime paying those off if anyone found them. but I told them not to put their arms out, and to keep their heads down after the drop, I couldn't be held responsible for that surely, they'd disobeyed simple instructions. besides, I was sure that if I'd been told how to use the black switches I could have prevented every accident, it wasn't on me as far as I could see. he cracked the whip.
really? he said. not a single one dead? he looked disappointed.
of course, I said. why, have families been reporting members missing?
he held his chin, lit a cigarillo and ignored the question.
how would you like a pair of trousers to go with that t-shirt of yours? he said, it must get cold out here in the rain, you'd feel the benefit.
and how much will those cost me? I said.
they'd be another month, he said, they're quality trousers, I wouldn't try and fob you off with cheap rubbish. it's a fair exchange, look around, everyone else has trousers on except you, they'll tell you it's a good deal. you stand out like a sore thumb right now.
I'll think about it, I said.
his moustache was looking a little more healthy.
could replace you tomorrow, he said, think fast. you people spring up faster than daisies. and go and check for missing nuts and bolts, things are always falling off, anything missing and you'll be owing me for those instead.
we'd closed for the day, I was finally the proud owner of a yellow t-shirt. I was pondering the next move, whether I should go for the trousers and complete the look or not, and wondering if they were really worth another month watching the cars go round and falling off now and again. it was hard to decide, I couldn't apply a value system, not without an education, but dad wasn't in favour of that and cousin Del had stuck his neck out for me. in a way, I still owed them, I hadn't even earned them any money yet, and there was still the trousers to go before I did. I closed my eyes and dreamed that maybe I'd get a move to the dodgems or the helter skelter, but it seemed unlikely, in the near future at least, those positions were taken. one day I might even get to have the whip and the moustache. but that was an elevated idea, I must have been getting high from the weed fumes.
I took the sweeping brush out to clean up the debris, and looked to the sky for some kind of answer that was different from the one I knew I'd have to choose. but all the sky said was, I am blue, occasionally overcast.