Curious

Together they stood trembling, their whimpers drowned out by the roar of the air purifier in the corner. The monkey had to struggle to be heard. It was a mercy it even tried to explain to them what was happening. Unblinking, gloss-black eyes looked down on them, a stitched-on understanding smile, and utter ruthlessness.
On the floor below them was a cardboard box, setting open like a waiting crypt, its rough edges alien in the rounded edges of its softly colored surroundings. The box was not empty, for it was early fall and the cleansing had already begun.
"You're McDonalds toys," the monkey said, "how long did you think She would keep you?" Holding hands, the cheap plastic incentives went into the unmarked box without a word of protest, some taking one last look, their eyes catching on the silver god, suspended above.
The monkey waited for the next group, the easy ones first, always. It looked down at its shirt, bright yellow with red inscrutable words. It had no uniform, no clear job, but it knew it was the first, and so knew its job was this, to accommodate the transition; from cherished to forgotten.
Another monkey, the same but wearing a police uniform, was dragging a fairy princess, kicking and clawing, but its eyes were unblinking, and its smile was understanding, "She's not too happy, Boss."
"There now," said the one with the yellow shirt, "we all know this day comes."
The purple-haired princess spit toward the monkey, and the police-uniformed one wrenched her hair back violently.
"It's ok, Police George, there's been no harm done," the one with the yellow shirt said.
"I'm a Barbie! A Barbie!" the princess screamed, its heels digging into the wood of the table, jerking against Police George.
"That is true," the monkey said, hesitating, "but look at your arms. Look at your legs." The monkey stepped forward and touched the princess's wrist, "A Barbie's arms and legs are soft, pliable. Why, you can't even bend yours knees, can you?"
The princess's eyes flared, tears began to well up in them, as if force of effort would finally contract its cheaply made legs and arms, it too looked to the silver god, suspended above all.
"Let her go, Police George, it's ok. Listen," it said, reaching out and touching her cheek, "I believe you're a Barbie, but that's not enough. Here's what I'll do: if any one of the other Barbies will vouch for you, stand up and declare you're just as good as them, just the same, then you can stay."
The princess sparkled, it was done, she was saved! It looked over to the shelf to where the other Barbies stood, where it would momentarily be restored to, and its relief swelled and burst like a dead fish.
"Who among you will speak for the princess?" the monkey entreated, "Your sister faces the box, but one word from any of you will save her from that!"
Cinderella Barbie, Snow White, Ballerina and Mermaid Barbie, one by one, turned their heads.
The fight had left the princess as Police George led it to the box, gentler this time, but with the same understanding smile.
"That was poorly done, George," another said from behind.
"What of it, Doctor George?" the monkey turned to face another like him, but dressed in a white coat.
"Why do you have to break them before they go? It's already...,"
"Already what?" George demanded.
"Your time will come, too." Doctor George said, pointing at the rip in George's yellow shirt.
George smiled his understanding smile and gently smoothed the fray in its shirt that it wore like a badge, because every toy knew that if something broken is kept, it will be kept for a long, long time.
"How many more? How much longer, George?"
The monkey seemed to stare off for a second, as if it were seeing something else, "Conductor George is rounding up the last of them," George seemed to snap back to himself, "But then we'll have to move on to old books and puzzles."
The silver god spun lazily in the draft from the air purifier, reflecting a shard of light onto the monkey's ink-black eyes. The monkey turned away, shielding its eyes.
The Doctor smiled, "No, your reign won't last forever, he sees all that you do from up there."
The monkey in the yellow shirt had always felt that he had been cursed by some bleak understanding, a knowledge in the very deepest pit of him, and the hell that went along with it. "I had no idea you were religious, Doctor George. But there isn't a god, not for us. That thing you and the others pray to? That's a Silver Surfer made by Toy Biz. And as for my "reign", as you call it, it will last as long as I have a purpose. And I'll have a purpose for as long as people bring Her toys."