Chapter 3- Work
The design had changed dramatically in the two years that Randall had first seen it from the little sketch on a used napkin to become physically possible. The machine was housed, as Waternoose had instructed, in the little lair underneath the sprawling pipes of the factory- the background scenes you can never see without special permission. Beginning as a bare, almost frightening skeleton, the Scream Extractor was an object of ugliness, but as its empty bones were filled with intense mechanics and electronics, and as Randall worked day after day, evening after evening on his creation, it began to take shape and bear resemblance to the lizard-monster's accurate drawing- his final design.
Randall would take any break to be an opportunity to work on the machine which he liked to call the 'SE', disappearing out of sight every minute he wasn't on the Scarefloor. And when the end of day work-bell would ring throughout all the Scarefloors, he would leave his faithful friend, Fungus, to clear up and prepare for the next day whilst he slinked off somewhere only he and his boss knew the location of. Although it took much longer, Randall took his time when working on the machine- every detail had to be absolutely perfect, not to be scrutinized by himself, but by Waternoose and anyone else the dangerous CEO had decided to test it. Therefore, as the design was what Randall was basing the whole structure on, it would have to be flawless, as he knew any unfortunate mistakes would cost him.
Sitting at his desk, Randall held the original design in one hand and the final design in the other. Though they were bred from the same roots, their differences were undeniable. Randall chuckled at the absurdity of his first ideas- he had tried them many a time, but found from experience that they were too ambitious. It was dark in the room- all the curtains had been drawn not only to keep out the darkness, but to ward away anyone that might be curious as to what he was doing, though it was a little silly to predict anyone purposely climbing up a block of flats to the sixth floor just to catch sight of a plan that was too far away from the window for anyone to see in the first place. Randall couldn't help but be cautious though; he knew fully well the dangers of what would happen if word got out, and he couldn't confide even a snippet of information to a single soul. And if Waternoose had doubted him before, Randall's loyalty to the plan would be proven soon enough.
A furious look danced across his face as he screwed up the old design and threw it into the nearby wastepaper basket. There was but one single lamp switched on in the room, and it was pointed directly to the desk, giving Randall maximum visibility concerning what was directly in front of him, but causing his vision to be limited whilst looking around his sitting room and thinking. He could just manage to see the outline of several photo frames propped up on a side-table, the monsters in the pictures a mystery to everyone but Randall. A memory flashed before his eyes- when he had first been unpacking, nearly five years ago to the month, he had come to the final box brashly labelled 'PRIVATE'. Fliss, of course, had been deeply curious the second she had caught sight of the box that Randall had tried so hard to shove away into a corner, and after convincing him to get the stuff out, they had a good rummage through the photos and items that the lizard-monster had prided for nearly the whole of his life- mainly photos, some especially old books and other bits and pieces. Deciding that these special objects should take the pride spot in their humble home, Fliss had then made a little display on a small side-table, hailing the relatives she never knew she had.
Ralph was smiling happily with his wife, Annie, by his side in the largest of the photos. She was looking particularly glum, but even Randall could realise why with ease- in her arms was a delightfully young version of the monster that was currently gazing upon the picture in the darkness- Randall himself. He looked nervous; brows furrowed a little, desperately glancing down at his sister who was hugging their mother on the ground. Randall remembered when this photo was taken quite clearly- the Boggs family had hired a professional photographer one Christmas, wanting to play 'happy families', and though Annie had insisted that Randall be left out of the family photo, or at least be cast out onto the sidelines so Cy and Marie could take centre-stage, the photographer had had a kind heart, making her cradle Randall in her arms. A shiver ran down his spine. The way his mother had held him, as though he was vermin...
The bedroom door which had a big sign stuck up on it saying 'Fliss's Room- Keep Out (unless prepared to hand over generous portions of sweets)' creaked open, desperately in need of an oiling, its inhabitant wide-eyed in the doorway.
"Hey, Fliss," Randall said, a bit too brightly, slipping the SE design underneath some other blank pieces of paper. Fliss rushed in, frightened of what she had left behind her in the depth of the night, or, to be more precise, her dreams and nightmares. She grabbed Randall's tail, rubbing it sentimentally against her face, revelling in the warm, soft scales that brushed against her face. "Fliss?" the owner of the tail repeated, sounding concerned. "What's the matter?" There was a silence except for the screams being pumped through the wires of the lamp suddenly being heard- the lamp was old and the wires were battered, and though Randall knew his own abilities when it came to anything practical and mechanical, this source of light was waaay past its sell-by date. The sudden short scream, along with the sound of the lamp flickering on and off, made Fliss jump. She hugged Randall's tale harder than ever as the scene became more and more frightening, but the lizard-monster eventually had to prise her off him and switch another light on. Both pairs of eyes hurt at the bright light, but any fears that Fliss had had beforehand vanished almost instantly.
"Dad...?" Randall beckoned Fliss to sit on the sofa alongside him, and once she had done so, looked deep into her eyes, wanting an honest answer from the question he was about to ask.
"Have you been having those nightmares again? Huh? Coz if you have, you know you can tell me." Fliss nodded, then, once she had completely took in what he had just said, looked back up at the figure she liked to think of as her father, glaring.
"I'm not a kid anymore. I'm nearly twelve years old, Dad, and I DON'T have nightmares."
"So why'd ya come in here? And what was with the tail-hugging thing? You used to do that when you were really young, y'know- you haven't done that for years." For a second, Fliss's brain worked furiously, trying to think of a believable answer that wasn't too far from the truth, and then looked at Randall in mock shock.
"Dad! God, can't I show you a bit of affection once in a while? Do you WANT me to leave home at sixteen?" Randall put an arm round her shoulders, pulling the person he cared about most in the world closer.
"If I had my way, you wouldn't leave home at all. And, to be completely honest," he sighed, "it took me by surprise for you to show any 'affection', as you put it." Fliss was a little confused, and shuffled away from Randall's comforting touch. Looking up at him as though she didn't know him, Fliss then put on an air of suppressed anger, although inside she was dangerously guilty- dangerously because, if you showed Randall that he had won, in her opinion he would never let you live it down.
"I dunno what you mean..." She mumbled, sounding quite absent-minded.
"Well, that's it!"
"What?"
"You, moving away from me, never hugging me, not even when I do you a favour!" Randall had begun to shout, his heart aching for just a hint of love from his daughter.
"I didn't realise you were so...lovey-dovey."
"I'M NOT!" Randall balled his fists, willing himself to calm down. But, as he closed his eyelids, all he could see was red. "I'm not...But just because I don't go around giving strangers hugs doesn't mean that I don't expect one from my own daughter once in a while-"
"DON'T CALL ME THAT! I'M NOT YOUR DAUGHTER!" Tears flowed down Fliss's cheek in a gush, as though it was rain- at first, there had been a little hazy shower, but now there was a fierce, raging thunderstorm. And though Fliss wasn't Randall's daughter, it was obvious to see where she got her short, blasting temper from. Randall flinched at the outburst, clutching at her hands as though he had been scorched by the harsh words that she had said. "WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!?" Fliss stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her and leaving a numb Randall behind her.
Feeling as though his emotions had just been devoured by the angry beast held within Fliss, Randall sat back on the sofa, trying not to react to what had just happened. Fliss had done this many times before- they would begin their conversation harmlessly, but soon it would turn sour and always seemed to end up circling around the fact that Fliss wasn't Randall's daughter, but her niece. It wasn't something that Randall ever liked to admit to, though admitting that he even had a girl of Fliss's age lodging with him in his apartment wouldn't bear thinking about. He had been lucky though- the social services were all ready to come and take Fliss away, but after a closer study of her documentation, they realised something very vital- that she was, in essence, a reptilian-monster. And though the social services would deal with all cases and situations, no matter how extreme it may have been, they thought it best to leave a lizard-monster in the hands of a lizard-monster, which, in a way, made sense. They didn't take into consideration how much Randall was earning, or where he was living because they just didn't care.
It wasn't surprising, really. Actually, people not caring seemed to be the story of Randall's entire life. But Fliss not caring...It was something that Randall truly dreaded. He couldn't live without Fliss's love, he really couldn't because, over the past five years or so, he found that he had depended on it. It was the only source of caring he had, after all, and losing it was Randall's worst nightmare. This was exactly why, though the whole argument technically wasn't his fault, he had to go and apologise. Randall was known to be a proud monster, not big-headed as such, (well, most of the time) but very proud, and to apologise to something that blatantly wasn't his fault was an activity he had done very few times. But this time, he had no choice. He couldn't lose Fliss. He just couldn't.
Creeping to the bedroom door that Fliss had shut so forcefully only minutes before, Randall took several deep breaths, deciding that, yes, this was the right thing to do, and ventured into the unknown.
Fliss was sprawled across her almost thread-bare bed, her soft-toys peering down at her evilly from a high shelf, having been moved out of their usual spot on her windowsill, replaced by make-up and bracelets. Randall had bought her each of her accessories one by one, every Christmas and Birthday so she no longer had to ask. But, when Fliss had first brought the idea forward of her 'growing-up' and needing new stuff to play with, Randall had been completely against it. In his eyes, a girl of Fliss's age should still be playing with her plastic horses and Arrbies, not dressing up as though she were an adult. He had already missed the first six years of her precious life, and for her to be maturing faster than she should've been was something that downright scared him.
"Fliss? Felicity?" The girl that Randall had once been able to cradle in his arms with ease sat up, holding her special toy, Jud Green, by the neck. She wiped her eyes with the old toy, then, once satisfied, pulled up her bed-covers and tried not to look at Randall.
"If you've come to say you're sorry, there's no point." Randall was seriously worried, not to mention anxious, at what Fliss had just said and the way she had said it- there was a definite air about her voice, as though what she was saying were the most important words ever to be uttered in the history of Monster-kind. "Because...I'M sorry." Being cautious and checking that this was the right thing to do, Randall went right into Fliss's tiny room and sat down on her bed, looking out the window. The curtains had not yet been drawn, so the white, milky light of the moon flooded the room, shining over Randall and Fliss as they hugged.
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The end-of-shift work-bell rung out across the Scarefloors, signalling the conclusion of another tiring day. The Scarer's assistants hurried to finish off the last remaining jobs and the Scarers, exhausted but satisfied, left their workstations in little clusters, dabbing their own foreheads with towels and chattering amongst themselves. Putting a hand up to Fungus and letting him get on with it, Randall too made his way across the Scarefloor that had been like a home to him for the past five years, but didn't notice his boss waiting in the corridor leading to F. At the last second, Waternoose seemed to spring out the shadows, grabbing Randall's arm and roughly pulling him aside. Sudden panic overcame the lizard-monster as to who this might be, but as he recognised the grim face of Monsters, Inc.'s CEO, he sighed with relief.
"What do you want, Waternoose?" Waternoose's face remained in the same gloomy expression, but he continued the conversation as though he only knew Randall as another one of his employees, nothing more, though to say nothing less would be a lie.
"I was wondering if my Top Scarer could do me a favour." Randall rolled his eyes. He knew the second he would start talking to Waternoose that his boss would begin to layer on the complements and such, especially when there was something in it for him. It seemed as though he wouldn't do anything unless there were profits to be made out of it. Folding his arms, Randall coughed the once, nodding slightly to Fungus who had come over with a worried look upon his face, and made a strong form of eye-contact with Waternoose.
"And this favour would be what, exactly?" And though he had the urge to be as insulting and sarcastic as possible, he knew fully well what the situation was, and making it worse was the stupidest thing that anyone could do.
"There's someone I've been keeping an eye on recently. His name is James P. Sullivan."
"What, the janitor?" Waternoose gave Randall a very dismissive look, making the lizard-monster think better than to start insulting other workers. "Yeah, I know him. Why've you been keeping an eye on him? He's not involved with anything...dodgy, is he?"
"Oh, no no, nothing like that!" Waternoose suddenly had a nervous edge about him, but managed to maintain his poise. "No, you see, I've been watching him and find him to be quite...talented, shall we say, in certain areas of his work."
"Really?" Randall rose his eyebrows. "Yes, I've noticed it too- the floors have been absolutely sparkling, and, oh, don't even get me STARTED on the toilets-"
"If you're going to make a joke out of everything, than I suggest you work as a comedian elsewhere." The atmosphere grew even tenser, and Randall tried to act more co-operative, wanting to convince Waternoose that he had made the right decision trusting one of his employees, though the Scream Extractor, according to Randall, wasn't anything to do with what Waternoose was talking about. Or so he thought.
"Okay, okay...so you think he's talented. What's that got to do with me?"
"I think that James has the potential to be a Scarer." Before Randall could say anything, Waternoose had prodded him in the chest. "And that you have the potential to be a Trainer. Not full time, of course, just when we need someone who has real experience of being out there, in the Human World, scaring children. As my father always used to say, 'Lack of experience hinders learning'." Randall blinked a few times, trying to digest what his boss had just said. He couldn't train he? And even if he could, did he WANT to? Training one of your mortal enemies isn't exactly what Randall had in mind when he wrote up his job application for Monsters, Inc. But, then again, it would be a brilliant opportunity for him to show Sullivan what it takes to get into such a foremost and renowned position in the company. He could really rub it in- prove to him that Randall had changed since the days of him being a victim of bullying. Now Randall was tougher, was more successful, and he wanted EVERYONE to know it. This was perfect.
Randall must've been looking very worried, because as he thought through all of these complicated ideas, wondering what he should do, Waternoose had put an arm round his upper set of shoulders and squeezed him tightly. "I don't have a smidgeon of doubt in you, Randall. I know you can do this."
"But, sir, the Scream Ex-"
"I'll stretch the deadline another week if you do this for me." This made the offer a lot more tempting, but would just one more week make up for hours and hours of training with his arch enemy? "Two weeks." It was as though Waternoose had read Randall's mind.
"Sullivan still needs all that training though, in the Simulator room. How's he gonna get that if he's already began to do practical work with me? I mean, if he does the full one-hundred hours, as all employees are meant to..." The squeezing grew stronger.
"As I said, Randall, the boy has talent. Bucketfuls of the stuff. He doesn't need all that training malarkey. All he needs is a good PRACTICAL Trainer- someone who can show him how it's done when it comes to the real thing." Randall shook his head, trying to back away a little and escape Waternoose's clutches.
"And what about all those other Training Scarers who have 'talent'? You gonna give them the same treatment as Sullivan?" Waternoose seemed to be very taken aback by these questions, wondering where his Top Scarer had found the guts to speak to his own boss in such a degrading manner.
"Are you questioning my instinct?"
"Yes. I am. I'm also questioning whether you should even be in this job in the first place because, recently, I've really begun to doubt you. I think a CEO of a company as big as this should be able to get on with the job without having to refer to...illegalities, shall we say?"
"How DARE you!" Waternoose rose higher, suddenly becoming very fierce. "You are in no position WHATSOEVER to be questioning my authority!" His tone went suddenly quiet. "You know what I can do to you."
"No, but that's the thing, Waternoose. You USED to be able to threaten me. But now, funnily enough, the tables have turned. I'M in control. Ya wanna know how I worked that out? You're relying on me to build the machine. And if you get rid of me, I can't build the machine. Which means you're stuck."
"How can I be?" Waternoose chuckled. "I could ask someone else to build the machine as easily as I asked you, and how do you know that I'll be stuck if there IS no machine in the end? If I can't find anyone?" Waternoose chuckled confidently.
"I don't know. But one thing I DO know is that you're desperate. Why else would you threaten to banish me? And I doubt that there are THAT many monsters in here that would have as much dedication to the SE as I have, let alone being able to actually build it in the first place." Waternoose refused to let Randall know that he had won, instead changing the conversation back to its origins.
"So will you train James? Will you help a fellow employee?" Randall looked down at the ground, deep in thought, and when he looked back up to Waternoose again, he had decided.
"Yes."
