Feikn

An explosion rocked the room, leaving long, spidery fissures along the protective glass between Lachlan and the chamber.

“Fifty-fourth generation rifle, codename…” Lachlan sighed at the paper before him before begrudgingly continuing, “Betelgeuse, has proved to be ineffective and extremely unpredictable. New generation artillery continues to suffer from the consequences of moving on from blowback machine weapons in favor of electronically assisted systems and is proving to be increasingly expensive and ineffective against the… foreign menace” Lachlan chokes back as he speaks, reluctantly letting the sanctioned word fall into the report appropriately. “Report complete, Inspector Lachlan, signing out.”

Lachlan snapped the tape recorder shut, watching the thin film within, spinning along the drums as he duplicated it for his own record keeping.

The weapons Lachlan used to test in his job were pieces of art, crafted for robustness and practicality, considering the immense ergonomics needed for such a role. Often, soldiers would take their weapons home with them as they were so well made, being passed on in the family as treasured heirlooms or keepsakes.

However, much of that has now changed. Due to the growing magical threat posed by Witch families, civil unrest regarding magician’s rights, and the new discovery of the grand continent, the empire has been required to use more and more public capital and ideas.

This often leads to over ambitious, pampered rich teenagers, paid into prestigious schools, to propose and force “radical” and “innovative” new ideas to the military industrial complex that trickle down into Lachlan’s lowly work.

With a jagged click, the tape recorder stopped churning, notifying Lachlan of its completion, before a mechanical arm nudged the original copy of the tape into the barrel of a small cart.

The cart was attached to a miniature rail system that ran throughout the testing facility, Lachlan yanking the huge switch closed to complete the circuit and whisk his tape over to superiors for what was sure to be a “thorough” review.

Sinking back into his seat, Lachlan relented. It was already six o clock, and he still wouldn’t be home for at least another three hours. As he still had much work to do.

Relenting that the fractured glass could be fixed another day, Lachlan pressed the huge red switch on his desk whilst a buzzer sounded, the test chamber being filled with a red light.

The weapon inside, some sort of attempt at an electric cannon, was whisked away via pneumatic arm, before the next weapon took its place, a seemingly unambiguous rifle.

This was music to Lachlan’s ears, he loved classic guns, it’s what made him take the job in the first place.

Before beginning any tests, Lachlan made his usual walk into the chamber, as he thought physically holding and observing a weapon was one of the best and most accurate measures of its quality. After all, if it didn’t feel good to him, the professional, how could he expect it to be reliable for an actual soldier?

That same thought rang through his head as he scoped the rifle down, pretending to be some ranger about to take fire on some poor family of witches.

Though, something wasn’t quite right about this, the rifle was classic sure, but he didn’t think it was this classic. Telescopic sight? A spring-loaded magazine?

“A wooden fucking buttstock?” he finished, twisting the gun around to get a better look at the engraved production info.

“Yep, natural wood!” the gun barked.

Twisting his head, Lachlan locked his eyes with the door, then the glass, “Who’s there? Jakub? Are you trying to piss me off-”

“No-no silly, that was me!” The gun again ‘spoke’.

Craning his neck to the rifle still in his hands, Lachlan stared, spinning the gun around in his hands trying to find any speaker that could possibly explain his situation.

“Well, I don’t really produce sound that way you see-”

Lachlan jumped back, stupidly flinging the gun to the floor and causing a misfire that ricocheted across the room and buried the bullet beside Lachlan’s head.

As the ringing in his ears cleared up, the gun again began to ‘speak’ “Okay, just calm down Lachlan, your gonna end up killing yourself if you do that again! And I kinda’ hate how it feels to shoot yanno…”

There was a long silence, just Lachlan staring with perplexion as the gun lay there, unmoving. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, I can Lachlan” Expressed the gun, somehow adding an accent, inflexion and even sarcasm into its ‘voice’.

Taking a deep breath, Lachlan pinched his skin and waited to be shot out of the dream. Nothing happened.

After more awkward silence, Lachlan readied himself and crouched down to the rifle. He was a testing specialist after all, he couldn’t not test it now.

“Ok, please explain… Gun?”

“That’s Misses Gun to you young man. Respect your- Actually no. I am only one day old. Gun is fine.”

“Ok… Gun… which part of my subconscious are you? Am I schizophrenic or psychotic? Have I had an aneurysm? Perhaps a brain fissure-”

“Oh, stop with all that and listen will you, I am perfectly real! And I would like to get out of this dingy cell if you wouldn’t mind. My mother is calling to me.”

Lachlan looks over to his desk and sees that his analog audio detection meter didn’t increase at all when the gun began to speak.

“You don’t really ‘talk’ do you?”

“Well, not in that way, I guess. I’m using a trivial spell to project thoughts into your mind.

This caused Lachlan to visibly react, ‘A spell? Is this the work of a Witch?’

Despite not vocalizing that particular thought, Gun responded anyway.

“Witch, yes! That’s what you would call them. My mother is a Witch.”