Allegiance: Episode 1 (raw)
Source: collected/047-allegiance-episode-1-raw.mp3
SHA-256: dddcac0df306aff41d204b8958277440d306125752a253c9a5f89287a45a86c7
Model: scribe_v2 | Transcribed: 2026-10-10T18:19:06.172643+00:00
Machine transcript — uncorrected. Speaker labels are local to this recording and do not identify people.

[00:00:00.260] Speaker 1: Allegiance. Chapter One: The Souls of Things. His bedroom door told Elm that someone was coming before the man even reached the top of the stairs. "Go away." "I'm coming in." "No, you aren't." Elm worked

[00:00:35.260] Speaker 1: at the wire housing of the lantern with a pair of pliers. It was a mess. Whoever owned this thing before him clearly didn't understand the souls of things. He had no idea how to fix the lantern, but the pliers guided his hands. "Elm?" And the lantern guided the pliers. The doorknob wiggled, but the door didn't open. "Elm, unlock the door." The door wasn't locked. His father knew that, but sometimes he didn't want to know things like that. He didn't know what Elm was. Actually, come to think of it, Elm didn't know what he was.

[00:01:11.200] Speaker 1: Maybe the pliers knew. The pliers didn't understand the question. Elm was the holder of pliers. Maybe the desk knew. But the desk wasn't paying attention and told him to ask again. "Oh, never mind." The banging on the door continued. "Do not ignore me. Open this door right now." Elm turned the brass lantern over in his hands. There was a dent on the bottom that pierced where the oil was supposed to go. What, had they thrown this thing? That wasn't how you used a lantern. "Open this door right now or

[00:01:46.180] Speaker 1: I will get rid of every last piece of your junk in this house." The bedroom door swung open so suddenly that Elm's father stumbled inward. He crashed into a soggy pile of books that Elm had rescued from the storm drain last month. As if they hadn't already been through enough. "Don't give me that look. I don't know why you always make me out to be the bad guy. This isn't the end. It's a new beginning." "For who?" "For you, son." Elm spun around and faced his father. The man looked

[00:02:21.160] Speaker 1: torn between screaming again or apologizing. He weaved a path through neat piles of objects, carefully placing each step. There was a path there if you knew where to look. When he finally reached Elm, he put his hands on his shoulders. They felt large and warm. The stare he leveled made Elm shrink backward in his seat. "You are getting a job." "Why can't I just sell things?" His father returned a flat look. "When is the last time you sold something?" "Okay,

[00:02:55.980] Speaker 1: then I could open a repair shop." "Could you? Could you open a repair shop?" Elm felt his father's words more than he heard them. Why not just come right out and say it? He was useless. He was worse than useless, a man without a purpose, because he actually was a man now, at least that's what he'd been told at dinner. "I'm just being realistic. You just don't have what it takes. I need you to know that comes from a place of love. We just need to

[00:03:30.900] Speaker 1: find something that, that, uh..." "That I won't screw up?" [sighs] "I didn't say that." Elm turned his back to his father and picked up the lantern again. He had no idea how to seal the broken lantern container. He picked up each of his tools in turn just in case they had any idea. "No, you don't get to shut me out. Not this time." "I don't wanna talk." "Too bad." His father walked right over a ragged hill of clothes towards

[00:04:05.840] Speaker 1: the door. He paused before leaving the room. "Your first day is tomorrow. I traded every favor I'm owed to get you this job. You're working the yard at a sawmill. Early shift." His father didn't say the rest of the threat out loud. He simply waved a hand over the things that covered the floor, the walls, then leveled a serious gaze at Elm. "Tomorrow, 5:00 AM, the sawmill. Bring the saw by the door. Don't forget." Then he watched, unsettled as the bedroom door slowly closed in

[00:04:40.780] Speaker 1: his face. It was quite perceptive for a door. Elm was done talking. In fact, he was completely done with the world outside this room. He set down his tools and put his face in his hands. But apparently, the world was not done with him. Elm walked down the street with his head bowed. Maybe if he looked at the ground, people would leave him alone. It was an old tactic, and for the most part it worked, except on a certain type of person. With any luck, that type of person wouldn't be outside at a time like this, in

[00:05:15.720] Speaker 1: weather like this. It was a long walk to the sawmill. There was an electric trolley, but it wouldn't start running until 7:00 AM. A wicked breeze tried to cut through the weave of his coat, and the coat pulled tighter around him. The coat dared the wind to try that again. Elm smiled to himself. His coat had belonged to his father before him. It should have sagged on his slight frame. It should have made him look ridiculous, and yet somehow it fit him perfectly. The sound of voices nearby forced him to look up. Unfortunately,

[00:05:50.780] Speaker 1: the cold had not turned away the type of person who would politely ignore him. Two young men argued with a traveling merchant parked on the side of the street. The first man was mostly eyebrows and biceps. He alternated waving his hands around in an exaggerated fashion and pointing at his friend's feet. The other man stood silently with his arms crossed. Elm started walking faster. The evil one nudged the dumb one, then pointed at Elm and said something. Elm walked even faster. They waved an annoyed dismissal at the traveling merchant,

[00:06:25.816] Speaker 1: a woman with dark, wrinkled skin and dusty gray hair. She stared at them with bleary eyes. Had they woken her up just to argue? The two men jogged to catch up to Elm. It seemed impossible that his day could get any worse, but he was learning new pain by the moment. The evil one spoke first. "Hey, weirdo. Don't buy anything from that junker. She'll rip you off like she did me and Kel." The dumb one spoke next. "Yeah, we oughta kick out her wagon wheels tonight, right Luke?" "Shh. Shut up. You can't say things like

[00:07:00.816] Speaker 1: that out loud, Kel." "Well, she deserves it. City junkers think they can rip off good small-town people." Luke put a friendly arm around Elm. "So where you going, Elm? Awful early." "Work." "What a coincidence. Us, too. Mind if we join you? We've gotta stick together. This place'll be overrun with foreigners before too long." Elm shriveled under the man's touch. It would be easier if they just hit him. When they were done hitting him, at least he could leave. It was so much

[00:07:35.716] Speaker 1: worse when they pretended to be his friend. "Are you gonna listen to this blowhard?" Elm stopped walking. Had that voice just come from... No. He was hearing things. He looked down at Luke's shoes. "Yeah, it's me, the shoes. Ignore this walking trash heap. His feet are disgusting. I'm great, the best shoes you'll ever wear. Just take me." Everyone knew Elm was strange. He knew he was strange. Weird things happened around him. He had a kind of

[00:08:10.296] Speaker 1: kinship with man-made things that was difficult to describe. But they didn't actually talk to him. This was strange, even for him. "Take me." "I don't wanna take you." Luke looked over in confusion at Elm. "What'd you say?" "He's crazy, Luke." "Did you just say you could take me?" Elm was even more surprised the second time the shoes spoke. "Yes, yes. You can take him. I'll help you. Watch." Luke fell to the

[00:08:45.096] Speaker 1: ground, grasping frantically at Elm as he went down. He tried to keep him upright, but the other man face-planted on the gravel street anyway. As he scrambled to get back up, Elm realized it had looked an awful lot like he'd tripped him on purpose. And what would he say? The shoes did it? "Freak!" Elm pulled out of his grip and backpedaled all the way back to the building behind him. He put his hands up in front of him, warding off the inevitable. He looked frantically between the two men, boxing him against the wall. This is what the world outside his room held for

[00:09:20.076] Speaker 1: him. Kel loomed over him, violence backlit his eyes. It was the only thing the man truly understood. "It wasn't me. It was his shoes. I don't know. They hate him or something." Kel slammed him once against the wall with a casual shove, an opening play to see if Elm would fight back. He wouldn't. It would end faster that way. Put the bruises where they won't show, Kel. He'll snitch. "No, no, I won't plea-" The first punch hit him, fast and efficient, right below the ribs. Elm

[00:09:54.956] Speaker 1: buckled immediately, but Kel propped him up, like a friend helping him walk home after drinking. He kept Elm pressed against the brick wall while he hammered his guts with the other arm. Kel did his work quietly, without passion. Finally, he let Elm crumple to the ground to spew his breakfast. "You wanna go, Luke?" "Yeah, why not?" Luke rolled up his sleeves and walked over. Elm shriveled into a little ball. As long as Luke didn't kick him too hard, he could take it. He... Luke squatted down and slapped him

[00:10:29.916] Speaker 1: across the face. It was hard enough to hurt, but only barely. "Didn't realize you had a spine. Leave it at home next time." Luke stood back up and looked around to make sure no one had been watching. There was no one on the street at this hour, though. Except... The junk trader they had been talking to. She looked out a little window in her wagon. The wagon was pulled into a little clearing of gravel near the road. She was parked in a place meant for merchants like her, though she was the only one there now. She lit a pipe and looked out the little window.

[00:11:05.296] Speaker 1: She blew smoke and casually watched the three men. "What do we do, Luke?" "Nothing. Let's go." The two of them walked off in the direction Elm had been walking. They watched the trader as they went. Surely, surely they couldn't be going to the sawmill. Elm pulled himself up into a seated position against the wall. His guts wrenched again and he gagged, but there was nothing left to puke. He took deep breaths until he was sure he could stand again. "Excuse me. I could use

[00:11:40.156] Speaker 1: some help." Elm turned to find the old trader standing in the street next to him. She was short, almost grandmotherly. That probably explained why Luke and Kel had gone out of their way to hurt him. Even they couldn't beat up someone like that. It went against whatever twisted code of ethics they operated by. Well, that's what people like Elm were good for, punching bags for all the problems they weren't allowed to punch. "I can't. I have to get to work." He chose to be hurt? What did that mean? She tapped the

[00:12:15.120] Speaker 1: ash out of her pipe and put the other end back in her mouth. He took a closer look. There really was something strange about this person. "It'll only take a moment. I'm looking for someone, someone you might know." "I don't know anyone. Ask at the mayor's office when it opens." Seriously, she was asking him? He was the last person who would know anyone in this town. Still, she stood there smoking her pipe and watched him intently. What was with that look? Was she really just going to ignore

[00:12:50.160] Speaker 1: the beating he'd taken? "You could have helped me." "Me? You were the one who chose to be hurt." What did that mean? He looked more closely at the stranger. "I'm looking for someone. I don't know their name. They have a knack for fixing or building things. They might be unusually skilled in a trade. Perhaps they see the world a little differently than everyone else." Elm's mouth went dry, and he took a step back. The old

[00:13:25.000] Speaker 1: trader looked directly into his eyes, unblinking. "Do you know this person?" "No." "Hmm. What's your name, then?" "Elm." He really needed to get to work now. The look in his father's eyes said it all. If he couldn't keep this job, he'd lose everything, the whole collection. Where would it go? What would he do with all those things? "Don't you wonder why they can't feel what you feel, why no one else

[00:14:00.120] Speaker 1: can hear their possessions, only you?" "I don't know you, and I don't know what you're talking about." Then he realized what was so odd about this person. All of her clothes were lifeless. Even the pipe was lifeless. Everyone had cherished possessions. It was natural. It was normal. To use a thing was to make it a part of your life, to give it a sort of life of its own. You would have to go out of your way to avoid giving things

[00:14:34.960] Speaker 1: life. You would have to feel the souls of things like he did and then kill them somehow. He didn't wanna know a person like that. It was the worst kind of person he could imagine, his opposite in every way. Elm started running. His guts screamed in pain, but he pushed through. He had always wondered if he'd meet another person who understood the souls of things, someone who could truly understand him. He'd never imagined he would regret it.

[00:15:10.240] Speaker 1: Chapter Two: The Bet. "You're late." Elm tried not to look winded, hoping he could put on a convincing facade of strength. "Sorry, I, um, I got distracted." The sawmill foreman looked like someone his father would know, unshaven, tired, and generally displeased with everyone and everything. The man scratched his ch- "You're Elias' boy then?" "Yes, I'm, I'm here for my job." [laughs] "Tough. I just had two

[00:15:45.240] Speaker 1: guys walk up, and I offered the spots to them." He began to walk away, leaving Elm at the front gate. "Please." The foreman turned around and pointed. "You see that pile of rough logs? I need that turned into planks by Tuesday." Elm still wheezed to catch his breath, trying to follow what the man was saying. "What happens on Tuesday?" "I get another pile of logs that size." "Okay." Where was he going with this?

[00:16:19.600] Speaker 1: "Now, you tell me how a toothpick like you can help me make that problem go away." "I, um, I'm good with tools, machines." "Walk-ons don't get machines. Too expensive. And where's your saw? Didn't you bring one?" "I..." Was he supposed to bring a saw? [sighs] "Sorry, kid, this isn't charity. Tell your old man I'll see him for cards on Saturday." Then he walked away, taking Elm's entire world with him. He

[00:16:54.820] Speaker 1: couldn't. He couldn't take his things. They didn't understand. They weren't things. They were, they were... "No!" The foreman turned around and looked at Elm. Elm felt his face turn red. Say something, Elm. Say something. "Okay, let me prove it. One day. Just give me one day to prove how hard I can work." The foreman shook his head slowly, and he felt his hopes slipping away. "If you knew how many times I'd heard that empty promise." So Elm tried to give him the

[00:17:29.800] Speaker 1: same stare the trader had given him, a confident, knowing, piercing stare. [sighs] "Fine, but you're gonna have to work real hard. Guy who took your spot was twice your size." Wait, did that mean it worked? "There wasn't supposed to be an opening at all, but we lost a good guy last week to an accident. I guess Gus' loss is your fortune." Then the foreman put out his hand for, for what? [clears throat] "It's a handshake,

[00:18:04.840] Speaker 1: son." "Oh." Elm shook the man's hand. "I'm Wilton, and you're?" He knew this one. My name's Elm. Wilton nodded approvingly. Good name for this business. Wilton tilted his head toward a shed on the other end of the yard. Since you don't have a saw, Gus's saw is still in his old locker, I reckon. Doesn't seem right to use another man's tools, but I suppose it's easier than using your hands. For what? For,

[00:18:40.268] Speaker 1: for what? For Lords above, for cutting logs. This is a sawmill. Apparently, Elm had missed something important. Eh, that happened when he was talking to people sometimes. They said things without saying things, and somehow he was supposed to understand. So he had to make up for that. Maybe if he worked really hard. Either the sawmill would keep him on and he'd get paid, which would be really weird. What would it be like to have his own money? Or his father would see how hard he'd tried and wouldn't clean out his room. Or

[00:19:15.188] Speaker 1: the shed. Or the guest room. Or, okay, maybe Elm had been a little unfair to his father. You won't regret it. The job itself was fairly simple. Take a huge, uncut log from the mountain of logs, and then cut it down to the size the yard foreman had asked for. Then you dragged the smaller, but still heavy pieces into neat rows so that the workers inside could pull them in and cut them on electric saws. Simple. Simple and utterly backbreaking. There were six other men hauling and

[00:19:50.168] Speaker 1: cutting in the yard like him. That was generous, actually, because they were like him in a way that an ox was like a puppy. Kel had started the same day as Elm had feared, and though Elm had always thought the bully was frighteningly strong, he still looked small compared to the older men in the crew. It was nearly lunchtime, and Elm had managed to drag almost sixteen pieces into the row of logs ready to be cut for the next day. He dragged a cut piece and buckled over, hands on knees, heaving from the effort. When he recovered, he walked over to the paper stapled to a nearby post and marked a tally

[00:20:25.308] Speaker 1: next to his name. Sixteen. He looked at the other names on the sheet. They had a lot more tally marks than him, but the day was only halfway through. No one had spoken to him. That was okay. He didn't need to make friends. He was here to prove a point to his father, and that was it. He flipped up the sheet of paper to see the tallies from weeks prior, and his heart sank. Renfro, five hundred and thirteen pieces. Will B, four hundred and eighty-two. Arnie, six hundred and forty-three. Taliki,

[00:21:00.668] Speaker 1: eight hundred and two. Gus, nine hundred seven pieces. This couldn't be real. There were red marks through some of the days for Renfro and Will. Had they taken days off that week? And nine hundred seven? Elm ran the numbers through his head. He thought he'd been moving at a pretty good pace, but if he really went all out for the rest of the week, he might move two hundred pieces. The person he had replaced had more than four times that amount. He was doomed.

[00:21:35.708] Speaker 1: Elm trudged back to the log pile. Just a hill at this point, since it was the day before the next load arrived. He rolled over a thick log and started sawing, but his heart wasn't in it anymore. Besides, the saw seemed to pull away from him at bizarre angles or lodge itself in the log so that he'd have to use all of his strength to get it free again. It was almost like the thing wanted him to fail. He'd tried to talk to it, in the way he spoke to everything that felt alive, but it didn't respond. He felt like there was something there, though. Not

[00:22:10.288] Speaker 1: everything had a soul. Most things didn't even have more than a glimmer of life to them. The trader's clothes, for instance, didn't even have that much. They were like corpses. He tried to forget the encounter. He sat down to lunch, only to realize he hadn't brought a lunch. Of course. Why would they make lunch for him? Stupid. He'd forgotten. He forgot everything. There was a reason he was useless. Lots of reasons. Why should he expect this job to go any differently?

[00:22:46.008] Speaker 1: Someone sat down on the stool next to him. Elm tensed, prepared to endure a lashing from Kel, or Luke, wherever he was. They wouldn't actually hurt him here, though. Not physically, anyway. So how's life as a lumberjack? The man was probably ten years older than Elm. He wasn't muscled like the other outer yard workers, but his rough hands and bulging forearms told the story of a seasoned laborer. Elm felt his positivity fading. It hurts. Yeah. We've been taking bets on how many days you'll last.

[00:23:20.988] Speaker 1: The man pushed a small loaf of bread in front of Elm. I bet three, so eat up. I don't think I can do it. You can't do three? Anyone can do three. Just, uh, keep smiling when you see Wilton. He's a big softie. I guarantee he won't fire you until the end of the week if he doesn't see you pouting like this. I'm not pouting. Hmm. Could have fooled me. Why are you talking to me? Hey, nice to meet you, too. The man got up and started to walk away.

[00:23:56.888] Speaker 1: Thank you for the bread. He nodded and grinned. Just two more days, kid. It gets easier. Really? He shrugged. I don't know. Maybe. Yard workers are crazy. See you, kid. Elm watched him go sit down with another group of men with similar builds. They pointed back at Elm and, though he couldn't hear the words, they seemed upset. Apparently, giving Elm lunch had changed the betting odds. A whistle blew and everyone shuffled out of the break room. Elm sat on his

[00:24:31.772] Speaker 1: stool, willing his aching legs to move, begging his broken back to bend. When he finally made it back to the outer yard, everyone else was already hard at work. Kel spared him an unfriendly smile as he dragged his pieces, two at a time, to the stockpile. Elm pulled his saw out of the locker. Gus's locker, technically. Gus's saw, too. Then he looked down at his hands, already covered in blisters that threatened to pop. I can't do it. I can't. He was going

[00:25:06.832] Speaker 1: to lose it all. Maybe it was just junk to everyone else, but it was the entire world to him. In his room, with his things, that was the only place he truly felt at ease. His father loved him, but he didn't understand him. This most recent shove was just more proof. He gripped the saw tighter, thinking about how it resisted his every move. Help me, you stupid thing. The saw was inert. Let me use you. No response.

[00:25:43.052] Speaker 1: I'm sorry Gus is gone. I'm not trying to replace him. I don't know what happened, but I need you to work. But the saw in his hands was simply a saw, and even though he understood the souls of things, he felt silly for talking to himself. Then he remembered Luke's shoes. They had talked to him. Maybe he could do that. Somehow. But how did you talk to a saw? Elm went back out to the yard and rolled a log away from the pile.

[00:26:18.072] Speaker 1: You are going to cut this log like you mean it. The first stroke bounced off the top of the log, barely scratching the surface. Cut the log. The other men looked up from their work at him. He ignored them. He was weird. He spent his whole life being weird. Why bother hiding it? The next stroke dug into the log, then the saw caught and refused to be pulled free. Cut the log. You okay? Someone was talking to him. Renfro, maybe.

[00:26:53.092] Speaker 1: It didn't matter. Elm was staring single-mindedly at the saw. Cut. He pulled the saw free and drove it back into the log. The. It started to pull off at a wild angle, as if somebody were deliberately yanking it sideways. He ignored the buck and forcibly kept it centered. Log. At last, the saw dug into the wood. He willed it to dig deeper, not just with his tired arms, but with his mind. He imagined the saw gliding effortlessly through the wood. He did his best to

[00:27:28.012] Speaker 1: feel the joy of a hard day's work, wanting to go home and rest, but also wanting to get back to that simple pleasure of working with his body. That basic satisfaction of doing work that mattered to people, even though his part was small, even though each stroke of the saw was smaller still. Each stroke mattered. When he broke free of the trance, it took a moment to understand what he was looking at. Sawdust covered the ground before him. The huge log had been cut clean through in what must have only been

[00:28:02.672] Speaker 1: seconds. He couldn't remember. Lords above. There were people standing around him, staring at him. Elm staggered backwards and almost dropped the saw. It was happy? It hadn't spoken to him, but he felt the satisfaction emanating from the saw like the sound of a tuning fork. It positively hummed with joy. I The other men wore expressions of awe, confusion, or in Kel's case, distrust. I, um,

[00:28:37.972] Speaker 1: I sharpened it. It makes a big difference. Taliki walked over and felt the teeth of the saw, moving his hands slowly as if it might bite him. It feels normal, like any saw. Elm shrugged and started another cut. He felt the saw sink deep into the wood on the very first stroke. He quickly pulled back on it so the others wouldn't notice. With deliberate effort, he cut through the log at a slower pace. It felt like holding back a wall of water. The saw wanted to cut now. Why was he holding it

[00:29:12.972] Speaker 1: back? He promised it purpose. Wasn't it supposed to cut? He could sense its confusion. He cut through the log at a fraction of the speed as the first time, although it was still significantly faster than anyone else on the crew. Then he started the final cut on his log. At times, he had to remind himself just to use two hands and to make it look like he was actually struggling, when in reality, he had to do little more than just hold the thing. Eventually, the rest of the crew went back to work, but they looked over at Elm frequently. He might be

[00:29:47.832] Speaker 1: cutting faster now, but the logs were still incredibly heavy. He spent most of his afternoon shift just hauling the things around. By the time the closing whistle blew, he was ready to collapse. He should have been ready to collapse hours ago. Something had changed when they all put their equipment away. Renfro looked quizzically at the locker and then back at Elm. Then he grinned. We'll make sure to put your name on that locker tomorrow. Then the crew cleared out of the equipment shed, except for one other person. Kel stood in the

[00:30:22.532] Speaker 1: doorway, blocking Elm's exit. You won't ruin this for me, Elm. Don't make me hurt you. I'm not doing anything. Kel shook his head slowly, dismissing his words. I don't know what you're doing, and I don't care. Don't come back to work tomorrow. Then he left Elm alone in the equipment shed. And just like that, his hopes withered. Things brought him joy, but people, people only brought him pain.