They love to spit coffee and create cigarettes just before work. Unaware of their own forgetfulness they don their dirty helmets. They are masters of the white lie. They spew harmless falsehoods in every quarter of the city. People greet them wherever they go, hundreds at a time during rush hour. Some hug them, some curse them, but most are inconsolable at the sight of their hard hats. Despite their work everyone refuses to acknowledge them as construction workers. The media continues to mislabel them. Perhaps they give all the credit to those crazy Russian pilots.
They make sure to lie to the most hysterical. Despite the lunacy of their statements it always seems to cheer up their audience a little bit, though they can not ease the tension. “That’s as far as we can dig today,” they say. “We couldn’t find him,” is one of their favorites. Their statements are blatantly untrue, yet those foolish enough to listen to them still find some inkling of joy in these remarks. They should be telling them, “We are here to bury, the pain is only temporary, the planes will be here soon! This is what you have been waiting your whole lives for.” While they may be doing God’s work, it is not always easy. Parents of babies are among their greatest allies, and are regularly very eager to offer their young child for the construction effort. It is not as noble a gesture as it may seem, soon the mother will swallow the infant for good. She is the true enemy of life, though no one knows it. But, the Russians need something to aim for on their unbombing runs and children make for fine targets. The parents wail persistently throughout the whole ordeal, while the workers spend many hours burying their infant deep within the rubble. They curse the Russians for not coming sooner.
After burying the children and planting various other limbs they hurry off back to their headquarters. They rush because soon someone will call them and tell them the Russians received their signals, and their efforts have been a success. Does the term “white knight” stem from the color of their helmets? Surely, they are heroes, yet, not even once during their mad sprints across town do they look to see where they are driving. I’m was sure this is against the law, but it seems everyone does it. It’s quite common to see jets whizzing over the city, if you’re lucky you can see the miracles they perform. A tremendous cloud of ash and dust precedes their arrival (I’m still unsure of the physics of this), then it quickly coagulates into a massive fireball and a hellish shriek punctures the sky. The city blocks are pristine, as we always knew they would be, and a small package flies up into the underbelly of the plane.
I wonder how construction workers and the Russians plan their operations. The phone call, often from someone who has gone insane, always comes after the mission. I saw a woman approach one of the helmeted men the other day. She shrieked about not knowing when the pain will end. He didn’t know what to say. Isn’t it terribly obvious? Assad and Putin will have the country rebuilt by 2011.