your brain.
Calm.
The Green Bug was still inching forward. Whites were still dying.
As brilliant as the combine’s designers were, the thing just hadn’t been engineered to harvest a field full of skinny Whites. It was trying to thresh grain out of the bony, bloody flesh coming through the system and to offload the goodies out the back.
I needed to divert the massive engine’s power away from those subsystems, but I was moving too fast over the controls to truly understand them.
Some things I could power directly. That was clear. Others seemed only to be controlled through setting power ratios for maximizing crop yields.
Dammit!
If I couldn’t turn off the thresher and off-loader, I needed to find the hundred-percent chaff setting. Yeah. That’s what I needed. Where the hell was that?
The whole combine started to shake. A circumstance that wasn’t conceivable until I rolled into the maw of my white nemesis.
I maxed the engine output and thought to look out the window, realizing I’d been completely absorbed in the machine’s controls, trying desperately to make all of those scary mechanical sounds go away.
Whites were fucking everywhere .
And what wasn’t a White trying to kill me was a part of a White that seconds before had been shredded by the spinning blades on the harvesting head.
The shuddering in the Green Bug intensified, with all the engine power trying to grind its way through so much bone.
It swayed and the attachments to the cutting head flexed.
Fuck!
How do I turn off the goddamn conveyor dragging the bodies into the thresher?
Oil burned somewhere and mixed in with the smell of shit and blood.
I toggled a switch. I flipped a button.
Behave, you damn Green Bug!
But they still died in numbers I saw, but couldn’t dare estimate.
Whites on the sides of the Green Bug had climbed on top of the cab. They went up on some instinct, thinking they'd find the driver of my great beast up there. None had yet figured out the secret of the dark tinted glass.
I guess.
What the fuck did I know?
A great groan preceded a screech of metal and something big banged deafeningly in my machine. The whole thing jerked hard to the left. If it wasn’t for the harvesting head sticking out so far on both sides, I think it would have turned over.
Big chunks of metal rang as they banged around in the Green Bug behind me. Vibrations rattled through everything. An anvil-shattering smash of steel on steel sent another jolt through the combine. Relative silence. Only the sound of the engine rumbled behind me as it revved higher.
Something in the threshing system had blown apart and whatever drive system connected it to the engine was no more. That was my guess.
The harvesting blades spun blindingly fast.
Amazed that the suffering machine hadn’t exploded in the violence behind me, I backed off on the engine power as I tried to save the Big Green Bug’s life.
For a moment, I was in control and grinding forward through bone and flesh.
A line of trees materialized through the haze of red.
The edge of the field.
I turned in as slow of an arc as I dared. I couldn’t surrender my momentum. I couldn’t get bogged down.
The smell of burning oil was getting stronger. A new worry.
Still, my cutting heads shredded, and Whites seemed more than willing to attack my monster from the wrong end.
I finished my turn and was heading across the field again.
Whites beat on my Green Bug with their puny fists and only succeeded in making a futile din.
My panic evaporated in a swell of confidence. I smiled wickedly at myself and shouted insults through the glass at all the stupid Whites who were dying under my creative cruelty.
I was Null Spot the Destroyer once again. Bringer of death. Reaper of white-ass zombie motherfuckers.
How many Whites was I killing? I tried to do a quick count of the number of Whites who could stand shoulder to shoulder in front of my murder-beast. I tried to guess how long it took to engulf a
Calm.
The Green Bug was still inching forward. Whites were still dying.
As brilliant as the combine’s designers were, the thing just hadn’t been engineered to harvest a field full of skinny Whites. It was trying to thresh grain out of the bony, bloody flesh coming through the system and to offload the goodies out the back.
I needed to divert the massive engine’s power away from those subsystems, but I was moving too fast over the controls to truly understand them.
Some things I could power directly. That was clear. Others seemed only to be controlled through setting power ratios for maximizing crop yields.
Dammit!
If I couldn’t turn off the thresher and off-loader, I needed to find the hundred-percent chaff setting. Yeah. That’s what I needed. Where the hell was that?
The whole combine started to shake. A circumstance that wasn’t conceivable until I rolled into the maw of my white nemesis.
I maxed the engine output and thought to look out the window, realizing I’d been completely absorbed in the machine’s controls, trying desperately to make all of those scary mechanical sounds go away.
Whites were fucking everywhere .
And what wasn’t a White trying to kill me was a part of a White that seconds before had been shredded by the spinning blades on the harvesting head.
The shuddering in the Green Bug intensified, with all the engine power trying to grind its way through so much bone.
It swayed and the attachments to the cutting head flexed.
Fuck!
How do I turn off the goddamn conveyor dragging the bodies into the thresher?
Oil burned somewhere and mixed in with the smell of shit and blood.
I toggled a switch. I flipped a button.
Behave, you damn Green Bug!
But they still died in numbers I saw, but couldn’t dare estimate.
Whites on the sides of the Green Bug had climbed on top of the cab. They went up on some instinct, thinking they'd find the driver of my great beast up there. None had yet figured out the secret of the dark tinted glass.
I guess.
What the fuck did I know?
A great groan preceded a screech of metal and something big banged deafeningly in my machine. The whole thing jerked hard to the left. If it wasn’t for the harvesting head sticking out so far on both sides, I think it would have turned over.
Big chunks of metal rang as they banged around in the Green Bug behind me. Vibrations rattled through everything. An anvil-shattering smash of steel on steel sent another jolt through the combine. Relative silence. Only the sound of the engine rumbled behind me as it revved higher.
Something in the threshing system had blown apart and whatever drive system connected it to the engine was no more. That was my guess.
The harvesting blades spun blindingly fast.
Amazed that the suffering machine hadn’t exploded in the violence behind me, I backed off on the engine power as I tried to save the Big Green Bug’s life.
For a moment, I was in control and grinding forward through bone and flesh.
A line of trees materialized through the haze of red.
The edge of the field.
I turned in as slow of an arc as I dared. I couldn’t surrender my momentum. I couldn’t get bogged down.
The smell of burning oil was getting stronger. A new worry.
Still, my cutting heads shredded, and Whites seemed more than willing to attack my monster from the wrong end.
I finished my turn and was heading across the field again.
Whites beat on my Green Bug with their puny fists and only succeeded in making a futile din.
My panic evaporated in a swell of confidence. I smiled wickedly at myself and shouted insults through the glass at all the stupid Whites who were dying under my creative cruelty.
I was Null Spot the Destroyer once again. Bringer of death. Reaper of white-ass zombie motherfuckers.
How many Whites was I killing? I tried to do a quick count of the number of Whites who could stand shoulder to shoulder in front of my murder-beast. I tried to guess how long it took to engulf a
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