Progress

You can't stop progress. Unless you developed a new way to stop it. Which would be progress in itself. Anyway, here's a short story called Progress

Progress

“That’s the problem with these new builds, they lack character”. Terry leant back under the archway, sheltering from the persistent drizzle. “I mean, sure you can get all the mod cons and everything, but where’s the period features? Where’s the heart?”

“Yeah I can see your point mate” replied Ted. He’d known his old friend long enough to realise it would be better not to engage him in debate when he was off on one of his rants. He’d use the “duck and cover” method – try to get by with nods and grunts until this blew over.

“I mean, look at my place – 1882 it was built. Think about that for a second. 1882 – that’s over 130 years ago.  Do you think that thing will still be standing in a 100 years?” Terry gestured over to the building site, wagging his bony finger like a disappointed teacher. Ted attempted his best non-committal facial expression, then threw in a faint shrug.

“I know it needs regular maintenance and everything, but this was built to last” Terry sat back, folding his arms and giving a vaguely triumphant nod. Ted said nothing. A pigeon landed next to them and bobbed his head quizzically.

Terry must’ve been annoyed at his friend’s lack of vociferous agreement, so he decided to press the matter further. “And what about your place? Built in the 60s – it’s already falling apart”. The pigeon gave a surprised coo-caw sound as a seed dropped from his open beak – which is presumably the pigeon equivalent of “Oh no he didn’t”

Ted shifted uncomfortably but didn’t take the bait. Terry continued.

“Just think about the neighbourhood though. Building that thing right next to us. I’m registered with UNESCO I am. I don’t need a shiny new place next door ruining the ambience”

Ted had had enough. He didn’t have the patience to wait for Terry to run out of steam so he decided to wade back in. “But it’s progress mate. Think it’ll liven the area up a bit, bring new people in”

“Progress? I don’t need progress” retorted Terry, gazing out to sea. “I just want a quiet life”

“Quiet? What’s quiet about it” said Ted – he was now going all in in this debate. “It’s not quiet at all. You’ve got the painters around all the time – as soon as they look like they’re about to finish they just go back and start again”

“Well that’s the building trade for you, can never keep to a quote or a schedule” said Terry

“And what about the folks abseiling off your place for charity and whatnot. It’s almost every week!”

“Well it’s for charity Ted. You can’t have a go at charity”

Fed up with the arguing, the pigeon unfurled his wings, stepped off the girder and glided over the Firth towards the Kingdom of Fife.

After a brief pause Terry went back on the offensive. “I mean, they even asked the public to vote on a name for it. The public Ted. This isn’t X-factor. It’s an important infrastructure project. I’m just glad we didn’t end up with Bridgey McBridgeface. You know what the public are like”

“Oh I don’t know. Queensferry Crossing had a nice ring to it”

“Bland. That’s what it is Ted. Bland. As bland as the thing itself”

“You’ll get used to it mate. You never know, maybe that’s what folks thought about your place when it was getting built”

Their conversation paused as the train tracks sang a metallic melody, warning them a train was about to cross the bridge. It took a few minutes for the train to pass, and in that time a more conciliatory atmosphere descended over the two old trolls.

“Aye, maybe you’re right” said Terry “it’ll be interesting seeing what the new guy is like. Glad someone will be carrying on the old trolling ways. It’s all internet-based for your modern trolls now”

And they both leaned back against the girders, and watched the tug boats chugging away below them, until the sun set.