Reef factories of the Coral Inferno complex may have made either discrete products or some type of continuously propagated material such as chemicals, pulp and paper, or refined algae forms. Additionally, certain habitats served as warehouses for urban runoff, and hosted much of their equipment – tanks, pressure vessels, chemical reactors, pumps and piping – within an outer skeleton operated by control room.
Conditions for those working and living in the Coral Inferno complex were considerably hazardous, with any contact between skin and coral creating an intense pain or cindering sensation that could last from two days to two weeks. Despite the perpetual risks of the environment, workers and their families were expected to work long and grueling hours for little to no compensation. Since neither the machines nor the methods of work were designed for safety, many incendiary and maiming accidents resulted.
According to collected legends of the archipelago, it was possible the Coral Inferno existed as an eternally-burning manufactory, with the potential to endure for decades or even centuries until either the fuel source was exhausted, a permanent groundwater revolt was encountered, or natives of the continent intervened. However, with high walls shielding the complex from public view and armed guards protecting its perimeter, the Coral Inferno would have been extremely difficult to extinguish, and would unlikely be suppressed without the whispered support of worker’s siege or willing strength of insurrection. They called us orphans working over an open fire. Whatever didn't kill us was a way to keep them warm. Our days were covered in tired patches, a pattern of violence prepared in ultraviolet. It was an ongoing sabotage in case they ever asked for us.
I felt Jillison’s shape pulling against me. We slept on the reactor floor, with the raw materials, reinforced by the makings of attempted graves. Our arguments were nearly permanent, like a type of agricultural runoff provided to keep us in place. Jillison said maybe we had been hired here to die, to watch the ash make a home for us. I knew his addiction was a factory condition. I had a plan, a putting out system. Build my eyes to burn down what wouldn’t come back. I started taking the medicine. Three times a day. I remembered the weight of the cage we came from. I was going to say yes. We would come kicking and crashing, machine wrecking from within. A Coral Inferno lasts longest in shallow, clear, or agitated seas. The most complex factories grow in parts of the reef exposed to the most violent surf, where corals are weakened or absent due to the accumulation of loose sediment. Employment in this environment may be contracted in various ways, including current rings, indentured servitude, internal waves, kidnapping, and voluntary tidal changes. When surrounded by few surface nutrients, certain workers may come to mistake the terms of their contract for a form of compulsory bondage, a never ending agreement. Guided by basement lights, we should have had nothing to hide. It wasn’t because of age, it wasn’t because of interchangeable parts, it wasn’t because any of the lows were that extreme. If we whispered in a widow maker’s language, none of them could hear what we meant. They kept us on an out of body assembly line, operated our organs from a control room. The fingers in my hand were half asleep from the accidents, the shape of my palms were near perfect shards. So many wrong answers they told us to swallow, mouthfuls of cinder and smoke, more poor excuses for solid land. That’s how I came to know what they wanted from us. Even with something of an idea, estimated water pressure, etc. What was their investment in keeping us alive? Hazards of the Coral Inferno may include a kind of trauma caused by crawling through underwater tunnels, mental convulsions such as compulsive self-deception and hallucinations, various forms of fatigue worship and withdrawl, as well as addiction to poisonous materials (water pollutants, spoiled coral, paralysis equipment, toxic exhaust) If the person who has come into contact with Coral Inferno develops burning tears; shortness of breath; swelling of the tongue, face, or throat, or other signs of codependency, the symptoms may become irreversible. Seasons shackled together, still, a sunken year has a kind of rhythm. Locked and compressed. Beaten and blinded and nearly boneless. Jillison said, move on, it wasn’t happening. It never would, it never had. He told me not to blame anyone. I could hear the motives of their incinerator splitting us apart, all that charred and fractured exhaustion he tried to force me to forgive. I couldn’t say it to his face, I could barely recognize him at all.
He actually called to demand an apology from me. I couldn't believe it. Best-case scenario, the Coral Inferno was the vicious circle he always imagined. Worst case, it scratched the surface of his survival instincts, shaped them out, prepared an addiction to complete him. A freefall fatigue as his form of self-fulfillment. I'd seen it too may times before. Almost made me leave a note to burn it down good. Coral Inferno is perfect for you. Took enough of my life away. Hope you rot there. I said nothing instead. I crossed it all out and wrote a countdown in my head. There was more than a factory of reasons not to trust them. Coral crowded into skeleton, coal stuck to bone. The shape of it was standing there still, a constant shadow overlooking what was lost in us. Industry as a dull buildup of dishonesty. Jillison’s lies were on automatic, his throat was tense, a trigger mechanism. He worked for a void around the neck, a prefabricated reward with proportional voice included. There was no point in complaining, I had my choice, I could cope or try to change what I could. It was an easier and easier commute from reminders of denial to makeovers of decay. Watched him wake up each morning like a corpse on a track. Take a crowded train to a place where he only ever moved through empty rooms. His self-portrait was still missing and intact, a canvas for ghost transactions, always gone when I needed him. And Jillison said I was the one who used to live for a climax to resist. His whole world was frozen infrared from the factory glare. There was the deadline I had to give him. I moved on from pills to shots in the leg. I said stay the fuck away from me. And so that’s what we did.
The following guidelines are suggested to treat prolonged exposure to the Coral Inferno: Rinse the skin and skeleton with fresh water. Avoid seawater because it will increase pain. Apply topical acid (truthful decay) to each illusion, cut and lie. This treatment can inactivate the venom (deception). Sever the extremity to allow the relationship to heal. Reworked confessions may only cause the stinging to spread. Coral Inferno was a chalk outline, I could see it clearly now. If Jillison wanted to mix up birth marks and burn marks, that was a mistake he could make on his own. Cinders of a child's addiction, he said so. Orphan in a fire and it was fully ordinary now.
I didn't want to leave him to his own intervention. But I did. I wasn't sorry he was alone. I had nowhere in common with the Inferno he called home.
I picked a new afterlife far from there, quit on a day when his coincidences were coming to pass. Almost thought it would never possible, but signs were good, it was actually happening. I wasn’t watching for anyone’s verdict anymore.
I got a new job. Learned to fake a regimen of surface appearances. Smiled through the interview. Gave them a different name, first and last, with nothing left to wait for.
What happens when you rebuild your own ending? They say no one remembers what brings you back again.
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