The Very Very Wicked Press Machine Files

Part One: Early Life

Text and images are perfect, on their way to the printed pages. Today’s main article covers the Cash Me Ousside girl’s Harvard commencement speech and sudden vanish. Last week, Quentin Tarantino’s favourite toe shape, girth and length, made front page. The week before, Angelina Jolie’s heroism in leading a celebrity coalition of handing out trucks of toilet paper to starving villages in Africa, cashed thousands of dollars to the Deltron Times newspaper. And helped Jolie get a nobel peace prize, during which she thanked the bold choices of the newspaper.

You’d ask, what kind of story cooks here? Well, all these celebrities vanished right after the publishing of articles. Detectives fixed their eyes on a certain press machine in the plant. After a long investigation, the press machine appears to have grew sentient. And a killer. Any article about a celebrity, that celebrity vanishes the next day. It occurred three times.

Outside the Deltron Building, in wait for an interview with Abel Leinko. The editor of the Deltron Times. The front door buzzes open, and far back MR. Leinko walks towards us. Hands wide open waving in welcome come inside. No formalities and no protocol. He either has no time to waste, or I’m a waste. Following his footsteps into an overly long escalator, that leads to his 4th office floor. On our way, Leinko points to a locked door to our side. He tightly grabs something underneath his shirt, near his heart. A cross perhaps. MR. Leinko whispers ‘’ That door leads to our former printing plant”.

Can we go there? I gently but, eagerly ask

He inches back, waves his head dismissively ‘’ Not sure if we…uh…after that press machine went mad, everyone is kind of spooked about it’’. He then turns to check his phone, gives us his back to ponder to.

A door made from steel, in a common building of a common metropolis. Run by ordinary people who use press machines to make covers. The press machine’s murders albeit extraordinary, they only require ordinary explanations.

Crew member, John ‘’ But, the door looks creepy, man’’

‘’ Hmmm, we’ll see’’ I reply. Then, all of a sudden, a cold tingling of my spine lasts longer than any before. The door moves or am I tripping?

Out of nowhere, I get slap BANG to my head. In Jesus’s name…the great and merciful

I turn, and I find my crew behind me readjust themselves quickly, while holding laughs

I raise both my hands, palm open as if it’s a notebook, and with the other I press my index and thump to mimic a pen, ‘’ Here it is, one to you and zero to me’’.  taking an invisible note.

Rolling in 3, 2 ,1 John gives me the go

I clear my throat

Yes, a press machine that had one job to do. An aimless repetitive run towards getting broken, then picked up by the metal guy. The devilish piece turned aware…or to phrase it better, Woke up and smelled blood instead of ink. Questions pop up to mind, whenever a serial killer announces himself. How did it turn? Was it, that its DNA code made in a way, left it susceptible to violence? Meaning; No point to this story, no point in why so evil? Further meaning; Just get the fucking guillotine and cut off it’s head. Or, was it a lack of conscience? Lack of responsibility? Bad parental guidance? Ill nurture of its good side? Physical or sexual abuse when assembled then first used?

Let’s jump back to early life. Maybe we could pick up some clues.

All the way to the machine’s early home

Passing through the airport custom

A rubber stamp impacts hard on passports one by one. Then,

A long, long hum ✈✈✈✈✈ 

Across the Atlantic sea, and here we are at Germany

Born 16th may, 2000 at the MeinSteigler factory. Made by MR. Thomas Rudiger. The berlin institute of technology professor. He was of Romanian and Macedonian ancestry. Close workers with MR. Rudiger, recall that he always, complained of long working hours, bad air conditioning in the factory. These made his job a tough grind. Subsequently made the machine with less care, less love and no emphatic dedication. Other sources, however, suggest that The Press Machine was doted upon when first assembled. That MR. Rudiger, during the first week of its usage, would obsessively clean it with lavish products. He also used expensive black ink. And would come later, when the factory closes, to cover the machine in plastic, and surround it with four tower ventilators, and four rectangle fans, so that it wouldn’t accumulate dirt.

Back at the the Deltron building, before meeting the newspaper’s editor

We’ve also spoke to a former worker at the printing plant, Robert ‘Bobby’ Beck. A press operator who worked there during its early usage phase.  ‘’ Did you see or hear anything unusual with the machine?” I ask.

Robert ‘Bobby’ Beck’s face freezes to recall his memory and we jump back in time to when…

“…What we’ve seen from the machine, what it committed. A handful of eerie situation occurred, at the time deemed coincidental. On a normal working day, it started acting odd, my Boss, MR. Norbert, assigned me a printing of a Jesus Christ cover. I set up the dyes, made sure It’s in a flattened state, got the material set up, and everything…I glance a tiny black object in the dye. Reaching my hand to it, I got gobsmacked!! A tiny dark upside down cross with the number six hundred sixty six carved on it in red. I stepped back, might be Tom the Satanist pulling a prank on me but, no. I found a threat connected to it which led me to a saying on the wall back there,  it read ‘ In protest. Feed me blood’ The saying then quickly vanished. That day, the press machine would stop the moment the Jesus cover gets near it “

To be continued