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A Boy Named Jordan
Chapter 6: Meeting Really Buff Old People

Chapter 6: Meeting Really Buff Old People

Chapter 6: Meeting Really Buff Old People

Jordan waved his new arm around. It felt slow and chunky, like he had eaten a dozen mushrooms and was lying on the floor watching caterpillars.

The reason was because the arm didn’t actually use typical hydraulics to act as muscles. Movement came from the powered joints. The adapter translated Jordan’s nerves into commands which the joints accepted. That meant there was a limit to how fast Jordan could move, which he quickly found.

“Well, that’s that. You run along now, kid. Your master is waiting,” the doctor said.

Jordan nodded and thanked him as he got up. He moved his arm around and made metal clanging noises as he pinched his ‘hand’ as fast as he could.

His guard led him out and stopped in front of the front counter. He talked to the clerks, who talked to a nearby guard. That guard ran to the storage room and soon came out with a small chest. He handed it to Jordan.

Jordan’s guard led him up to the slave quarters and entered the room. They didn’t walk far, stopping near one of the bunk beds.

“It’s a bit early, but whatever. Listen up, kid. You were supposed to meet Marcel, the mining team captain, but the vice-warden had you get a new arm. Do that after count-off. Just ask around, they’ll point you to him.”

“Yes, Sir.” Jordan replied. “Uh, what’s count-off, Sir?”

The guard’s eyebrows raised for a second, before he looked around. His eyes stopped on the clock, bolted in the wall near the middle.

“It’s about 8:40 PM right now. At 9:00, we have a count-off. All slaves are expected to be in standing near their bed ready to countoff. You’re slave number 75. Remember that. This here’s your bed, the bottom one. You can leave the chest under it.”

Jordan dropped his chest and pushed it under the bed. The space seemed roomy enough for two.

“Right. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Jordan followed the guard to the showers, where a few slaves were waiting by closed doors. Two guards stood nearby.

Jordan wondered why the slaves were waiting, despite there being open showers, so he asked his guard.

“It’s for protection,” the guard replied. “You’re in there without any boots, clothes, or whatever contraband weapons you slaves somehow keep on you. If someone you pissed off wanted to jump you, that’s where they would do it.”

Jordan gulped. He was taking as few showers as possible for sure. Maybe. Then again, he was a smelly teenager. Probably still going to take a bunch of showers then.

Jordan then asked what he would change into, and the guard explained he would have to wash his clothes and air dry them. Jordan sighed, and wondered how many slaves got sick wearing wet clothes.

Jordan turned and headed to one of the empty stalls, before the guard grabbed his shoulder.

“One last thing. You are property. Serve your masters and you’ll be treated well. Don’t forget your place. Try to escape and you will be disposed of.”

Jordan nodded, and the guard studied him for a moment. Then he let him go.

So Jordan got in a shower and closed the door behind him. Inside, past slaves etched random garble into the walls, mostly profanities. One of them read, ‘Lamar’s breath stank,’ and Jordan chuckled.

He stripped and cleaned himself. The water was unreasonably cold, at least to Jordan’s body it was. Not quite the relaxing experience he usually had, taking baths at the village. The shower wasn’t even really a shower, more of a faucet with a bucket at the bottom. Then he cleaned his clothes with soap and water, and flapped it as dry as he could before putting it back on. It was nice having two arms again, being able to flap it flat.

As Jordan came out, he saw a bunch of people filling the slave quarters. He quickly looked around for his guard, but couldn’t find him. Jordan shuddered at the fact he was defenseless. Besides his new metal arm, which was apparently waterproof. Still, the joints moved too slow to punch with. Maybe he could swing it like a club?

The nervous boy looked around at the slaves faces, and saw a strange mix of emotions. Some people laughed as they gossiped with their friends. Others looked annoyed as they walked silently. A few strode powerfully, surrounded by intimidating slaves. Even more were emotionless as they dragged their feet along the paved floor.

Still, Jordan noticed one thing they all had in common. They all looked tired. Hard, wrinkled skin from working hard under the sun. Sunken-in eyes with dark circles. Graying hair.

A touch on his shoulder made him flinch. He looked over, but a finger pressed against his cheek, stopping his head from turning. He saw a stout, bald and bearded man his height, with the same features as all of the other slaves.

“Keep your head straight, buddy. You gotta watch where you’re looking, and pray you don’t piss someone off on accident.”

The slave patted his back and walked off. Jordan looked down at the floor.

‘Man… This sucks. I’m probably going to get stabbed or something tomorrow. Fine. Whatever. I’ll deal with it when it happens. I’ll just do my best to serve the masters. Starting with countoff.’

Jordan gathered his courage and strolled over to his bed as inconspicuous as he could be.

Jordan’s stiff walk relaxed as soon as he saw who was crouching near the bed.

“Sofia! Hey! Are you number 76?”

“Jordan! Yeah. Cool arm.” she said, smiling softly.

“Thanks. Wow, I sure am glad to see you. What’d you do after we all split?” Jordan asked, crouching next to her and pulling out his chest from under the bed.

“I met the crafting team captain, Taye. He’s nice. Smart too. Actually, the mining and building guys were there too, playing some kind of board game. Even Gaston was there. Why weren’t you there?”

“Ah, I got hung up with the new arm. It hurt a lot, you know!”

Sofia smiled at him. “You seem fine though. How’s your arm? Do you like it?”

“Well, it beats one arm at least. It’s still pretty bad though. Not nearly as good as my original one.”

A hand patted his head. “I bet something else misses that arm too, ey Jordan?”

Jordan looked up and saw Devon smirking at him, with Cotis and Gaston in tow.

“Hey guys. Did you meet the other captains too?” Jordan asked, ignoring Devon’s comment.

“Nah, they just put Devon and I to work. Don’t think there’s a captain for the orderly jobs. It’s mostly cleaning and cooking anyway.” Cotis answered, putting Gaston in his bed.

Jordan and Sofia glanced at Gaston, who looked absolutely worn out.

“What happened to him?” Jordan asked.

“I uh, don’t really know. He wouldn’t say. He found me outside and nearly collapsed on me, so I just picked him up and brought him here.”

“Mm.”

Slaves continued to fill the slave quarters and Jordan met a few of his neighbors. Well, made eye-contact at least.

Jordan rifled through his chest and found a few things. A spare set of clothes, a pillow, a bed sheet, and a paper bag. Inside the paper bag was a book titled, “The Eternal Light”. No doubt a holy book.

As Jordan made his bed, someone called out.

“RIGHT YOU LOUTS, GET READY FOR COUNT-OFF!”

Jordan and Sofia glanced at each other, before looking at what the other slaves were doing. They simply stood straight, one at each end of their beds. The beds were arranged in five rows of ten. That left about ten empty beds which were situated to the left of Jordan.

The group took their spots as someone yelled “COUNT-OFF!” followed by shouts of one, two, three, and so on. Count-off proceeded without any hitches, and Jordan sighed in relief when Devon counted eighty as the last number.

He was about to sit in his bed when he realized the slaves were still standing. Four columns down, guards were flipping beds and going through chests. A mandatory search. And Jordan had just done his bed.

Jordan winced as three guards ripped his sheets off, took the pillow casing off, and tipped his bed over. Then they rifled through his chest, throwing everything out.

The guards themselves showed no emotions, despite them tearing through a brand new slave’s belongings. Jordan wondered if there had been an incident where a new slave already had some sort of contraband.

At the very least, Jordan was impressed at how fast they did it.

Finally, when the guards had searched everyone, and Jordan tidied up his area, he asked Sofia how to find the mining captain.

“Well, he’s bald, kind of old, really buff, and uhh… maybe a little taller than Gaston?”

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Jordan just stared at her. Bald, old, and buff, huh. That narrows the options to about 56 slaves.

“Um. I’ll just show you,” Sofia said, sheepishly.

Sofia led him across the room, drawing a few looks from nearby groups. Jordan kept his head straight and tried not to stare at them, but glanced at a few of them in order to make sure he didn’t give off the impression of being better than them.

As Jordan thought he was overthinking it, Sofia began talking to an old slave. He had really dark, earthy looking skin, and short gray hair. He was sitting on his bed, with a few slaves sitting on the ground around him. He nodded softly at Sofia as she approached.

“Hello Taye.”

“Hey, good evening, darling,” the kind looking slave said. His voice was smooth like jazz.

“I’m looking for the mining team captain, for my friend. Do you know where he is?”

“Oh, you mean Marcel? Sure, he’s over there in the corner, stretching. But before that, why don’t you introduce your friend to me, hm?”

Jordan and Sofia shared a glance, before Jordan spoke up.

“Well, good evening, Sir. My name is Jordan Valencia.”

Taye smiled, and the group he was with chuckled.

“Nice to meet you, Jordan. You can just call me Taye, no need for the “Sir” business. We’re all slaves here.”

“Yes, Taye.”

The nearby slaves shared a few looks as Taye started to frown. Sofia also gave Jordan a strange look.

“Er… Okay. Let’s… go talk to Marcel,” Taye said, motioning for the others to stay there.

Sofia began to follow them before Taye stopped her.

“Sofia, why don’t you stay and mingle with the other crafters here. You’ll be working with them too, you know.”

Sofia gave him a confused look, before the others grabbed her attention. She soon got trapped in the conversation and quickly forgot about Jordan.

Meanwhile, Taye led the boy to a group of slaves in unnatural poses. They were standing, but they were bent so low that their faces were between their legs.

Jordan found it a little weird that these incredibly jacked old men were so flexible, but he just shrugged and accepted it.

“Marcel, look who I’ve got here. Your newest teammate.”

Marcel turned, or, more like waddled, to face Jordan. The boy was startled by the man's face. He had a pronounced eyebrow ridge, full lips, and a big nose. More importantly, half of it was burned, and on that side his eye glowed yellow. A bionic eye. Jordan was very impressed, and a little bit intimidated.

“Eh?” he said, upside down. He looked Jordan down and up, his eyes lingering on his arm, and resting on his face.

“This kid? Really?”

“Mhm. Go on and introduce yourself, Jordan,” Taye encouraged, resting his hand on Jordan’s shoulder.

“Yes, Taye. Uh, I’m Jordan. Nice to meet you. You’re the mining team captain?”

Marcel had a skeptical look on his face as he looked between the two of them. “You serious?” he muttered under his breath.

“Mm. I’m Marcel, the mining captain,” Marcel said, slowly getting up and breathing deeply. He was tall, more than a foot taller than Jordan. His muscles and veins bulged through his tanned skin. Numerous scars covered his body. His clothes were the same as the other slaves, a white shirt and blue shorts, but his looked brand new. He and the others lowered themselves into the splits, and then they all leaned to the left, resting their chests on their leg.

“How old are you, kid?”

“I’m fifteen.”

“Seriously? Taye, you sure he isn’t part of the crafters or order?” Marcel asked, incredulously.

“Hm.” Taye responded. “Jordan, Vice-warden Lamar assigned you to the mining team, correct?”

“Yes, Taye.”

“And why’s he keep on answering like that to you?” Marcel grumbled.

Taye narrowed his eyes.

“Hm… Jordan, will you please do a 360 jump?”

“Yes, Taye.”

Jordan hopped and spun.

Marcel and Taye shared a look, as the other slaves, confused, started talking amongst themselves.

“Jordan, raise your arms up.”

“Yes Taye,” Jordan responded, raising his arms up. He looked around, getting a little nervous. ‘Why are they looking at me like that?’ he thought.

Taye put a hand on his chin as he studied Jordan, nodding while mumbling something to himself.

“Acts respectfully, follows my orders, and doesn’t question them at all… Very peculiar, this one,” he murmured. Taye leaned down into Marcel’s ear and whispered, “You try. Don’t tell him I told you to.”

Marcel puffed air out of his nose and faced Jordan.

“Jordan, give us a little backflip.”

“Huh? Why?”

Marcel furrowed his brow and glanced at Taye. Jordan was feeling out of place, like he wasn’t a part of their inside joke.

Taye snapped his fingers as a lightbulb turned on in his head.

“A curse! Probably. Biochip maybe? Don’t see a cut though,” he muttered. “Jordan, how did you become a slave?”

“Umm… I don’t really remember. I was just out picking mushrooms, then I woke up on a cart with my arm missing.”

“Picking mushrooms? Pfft. I bet you ate a colorful one and kissed a bunch of girls. Maybe a few boys, I don’t know. Anyhow you got on someone’s nerves, so they cut off your arm and enslaved you,” Marcel said, as a few slaves started laughing.

“I don’t eat weird looking mushrooms. Some of those things can kill giants, you know!” Jordan said, frowning. He started to feel a headache coming on.

“Yeah, whatever. How do you think you ended up here then?” Marcel teased.

Jordan struggled to come up with something to say as Marcel and the others laughed, rising up then leaning to his right leg.

Taye studied Jordan before asking him, “Jordan, are you from the Divine Continent? Or the Draconic Lands? Like Sofia?”

“Oh,” Jordan’s frown crumbled as he turned. “No, Taye. I’m from a village in the Draconic Lands.” he answered respectfully.

Marcel didn’t miss Taye’s slight smirk as he remarked, “Tch. Your old ass is enjoying this, isn’t it, Taye.”

“Ahem,” Taye coughed. “Jordan. Are you religious?”

“Well, of course I am. I believe in Sol, after all.”

“Really? For how long have you believed in Sol?”

“Oh, uh… as long as I can remember, I think.”

“Does your village worship Sol?”

“Yes. Er… No? Ugh.” Jordan clutched his head as he dropped to his knees.

The others gasped as Taye knelt next to the boy, placing a hand on his back.

“Jordan. Are you alright?” Taye asked worriedly.

Jordan was in fact, not alright. It felt as if there was an invisible brick wall around a part of his brain that his consciousness was repeatedly banging its head against.

“My village. They worshiped… Sol? But I-”

Jordan paused as light emitted from Taye’s hand. A warm feeling spread from Jordan’s back.

“The Soothing Light. Calm down, Jordan. It’s okay. Don’t push yourself. Take a deep breath and center yourself.”

Jordan closed his eyes and tried to remember his training. His first breath was fast and shaky, his second, quick but even. By his fifth breath he was fine. Jordan sensed it was strangely quiet, and when he opened his eyes he saw the slaves staring at him.

“Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Jordan said glumly.

“... So then, Taye.” Marcel spoke up, now in a back bridge position. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Well, I can’t be sure without the right equipment, but yeah, it’s probably a curse. He was probably enslaved by a Sol Zealot who used a mana compulsion device or technique to make him subservient to Sol members, and enforce belief in Sol.”

“Welp. At least he’s still brown-nosing you, a former Priest. That means it shouldn’t be too hard to remove the curse, aye?” Marcel said.

Taye looked back at Jordan and smiled.

“Yep.”

Jordan, very confused, smiled nervously and went with the flow.

“Haha, yeah.”

After that introduction, Taye said his goodbyes to the mining team, and left to rejoin his own crafter’s team with Sofia. Marcel coerced Jordan into doing the ‘destressing stretches’ as he called it.

“Mm, we’ve got about fifteen minutes before light’s out. I’ll give you a quick rundown, kid.”

“Thanks.” Jordan grunted, as he lay on his stomach while another slave pulled his arms back. He wondered if this was going to make him taller, or just rip him in half.

“So. We’re the mining team. We go down into the mines and get out whatever ore we can get down there. Lot’s of heart stone, sun stone - go figure - and quartz. There’s a bunch of random junk like iron and titanium too, but you don’t have to worry about that.”

Marcel smirked.

“Jordan, how many push-ups can you do in a minute?”

“Huh? Push-ups?” Jordan groaned. “I uh. I don’t know. Maybe like, 80? It’s been a while, and I only have one arm now, so I don’t-”

“Alright, alright. That’s pretty decent. You know, the standard for imperial soldiers is 100. So you’re really not too far off. And how much do you weigh?”

“I weigh- Oh.”

Jordan felt the slave pulling his arms back slowly relax.

“Oh!” Jordan yelled, feeling a weird sense of freedom as he got up and swung his arms around.

“This is good!”

“Heh, yeah.” Marcel grinned. “Second best part of the day, right here. Now you pull his arms.”

Jordan smiled evily at the slave, who returned it ten-fold.

“I weighed about 130 pounds before I was enslaved. Why?”

“Pff. ‘Cause you can do more pushups the lighter you are. Charlie, how much do you weigh, and what’s your max in a minute?”

“I weigh about 194, and I’m doin’ 120 a minute, yessir,” came the reply from the slave that Jordan was stretching. He didn’t even struggle when talking, so Jordan scowled and decided to pull harder.

“Mm. Jaelyn, what about you?” Marcel asked the slave he was stretching.

“I weigh, mm, 161. I can rep out 120 too, Marcy.” she said, winking at Jordan. He didn’t really notice since he was more impressed at the fact that she was nearly bent in half the wrong way.

“Yeah. And I weigh about 250, and I can max out at 132. Can’t seem to get faster than that. But you get the idea. Us three, we’re miners. You don’t exactly meet the standard just yet. You know what that means, kid?”

“Uh… I should ask to switch teams?” Jordan replied.

“Ha! And our slave masters will glady do some extra paper work just so you can be comfortable. Of course, why didn’t I think of that!” Marcel chuckled.

“No. It means you’re stuck as a hurrier ‘til you get stronger.”

Jordan noticed the other slaves getting up and beginning to leave, so he released Charlie, and asked, “A hurrier? What’s that?”

Marcel kissed Jaelyn, and the woman walked off to her own bed.

“You’ll see. You better hurry off to your own bed now, it’s two minutes before lights-out. Have a good rest, you’ll need it.”

“Eh? Oh crap.” Jordan looked around and saw all the slaves splitting off to their own beds, and tried to find Sofia. Luckily, she was already coming to get him. “Thanks, Marcel. I’ll see you tomorrow I guess. Goodnight.”

“Yup. Goodnight,” he replied, as he sat on his bed.

“Jordan! Come on, let’s go,” Sofia called out.

“Yap. I’m coming.”

And so, Jordan crawled into his bed just as a guard yelled out “LIGHT’S OUT!” He felt oddly excited for the next day, as if it was just another field trip.