Underworld

What was my name? he thought as a new request to manufacture– Why would someone want perfectly circular stone? He closed his eyes and within a heartbeat, a roughly circular stone and a grinder appeared in front of him. They said my kind had to serve the underworld, why? No one answered.

He dextrously ground the stone into a perfect sphere and clapped his hands together to dismiss the product he created. He looked around him and more of his kind– the elves– worked on a long, endless line of benches equipped with whatever they wanted to produce. His friends were long gone, I’m almost there. he thought looking at his credit, I just need to work three more days, then I’ll be on the surface world.

Another order appeared and closed his eyes shut, What was my name? Before I was brought to the underworld? he thought. He assembled a small electronic gadget that was an in-demand product. He clapped his hands together and the gadget disintegrated, They think they are magicians, capable of bringing things to existence out of thin air. he laughed silently, We are the one fulfilling their every wish at their whim.

His supervisor, an old stern man with a long white beard passed in the aisle behind him, “Work faster.” he barked at his co-worker. You will be dead soon. he thought with contempt for his supervisor. He was surprised to see the next order, This one wants a bazooka. he thought, How many years since I manufactured a bazooka? the world above had changed, he could tell. When I came to the underworld, they wanted stone tools and warm clothes. A few years later, All they wanted was gold and bronze. he clapped his hands together, All they want is kill. Iron and Swords, Guns and powders.

He looked up at the clock and got to his feet like everyone on the floor, making way for the next batch of elves to slave at fulfilling the needs of greedy surface dwellers, I’ll be free of Underworld. he thought, I’ve survived 10,000 years. I shall call myself Hel.