Todd having developed a propensity for the Old Elements as he called them, loved commanding the Techs (from now on) to place fans and lights and use water and things to stir emotion among people he may be interacting with.
For Todd, why not have a drink with, for example, a woman whose clothing and hair….blew in a relentless gale borne of surreptitious wind machines while she spoke… and perhaps well up in her a passionate fury, her having been well trained at drama and things, the dark Art things that they all gorged on at the Party for many centuries.
For Todd, why not negotiate with powerful winds at his back, and a glow cast about him as he coaxed this department or that into some endeavor or another, always to keep the most units at the highest productivity…little more.
Eventually, for Todd, why not turn these Techs loose in his entire town, allowing them to earn their lot in life by merely spreading the conventions of early cinema liberally through the entire population. And so it came the Techs were sewn into every moment and given free reign, the shadows…with fans and lights and things… fog machines… bizarre music and instruments and their unspoken motivations and the unspeakable triumph still looming, gavel above mahogany and oak, where to shelter from it? Nowhere.
What when spring came? How to deal then with the new flowers, who were lovely women…who shone like dandelion light in the March fog, and sprung out to be talked to in the bizarre sunshine of April and May. Marched into Todd’s parlor in June, and were vomited into a dump whenever at last they ceased to serve a useful purpose.
Neither of the many men mentioned had a way to speak of this…and they all were victims to this incredible work of Todd’s Head. They wept Iron loneliness, stood to tell tales to each other in the private corners of the Party.
None were acknowledged, they wore their hard-boiled loneliness on their sleeves and stood tall and resolute among their comforting friends… all bashing hard at Todd’s giant Friend Thing, and the Head atop his shoulders with its remarkable Face. Savage, they all were savage and lashed out at the enemies they had made, for all men needed enemies. But to Todd… what was to matter?
There was no threat? Had there ever been? Had anyone even used the word or turned the concept of a “threat” around in their mind for five centuries or longer? Six? Seven?