Kyle was back in business.
He stepped out into the cold along with his new quartermates.
He shivered. It had been three days since he left the medical bay and he still wasn’t used to the cold. Perhaps he wasn’t ever going to get used to it.
The new housing unit helped things a lot though. It was better insulated and less cramped. He only had two other roommates rather than four like he had previously. He was also now located in a different part of the settlement.
“Fuck me it’s still cold," He exclaimed.
“Well it’s not going to get any better I don’t think, no sir," Oliver was a blonde haired man that looked to be near forty. Frost had already begun gathering on the edges of his neatly trimmed mustache and bushy eyebrows. “When winter arrives there won’t be any sun neither. Lord help us, we better have something done by then.”
“Fear not, the Lord has helped us," The third man, Noah, peered at Kyle with a strange mix of half playful half fervent dark glinting eyes. A smile appeared on his boyish face. “He sent you along, dinn’t he? I think we’ll be fine now that we got Magic Man here with us.”
“Right…” Kyle said, a bit disconcerted by the guy.
“No pressure, eh?” Oliver nudged him with an elbow. “One step at a time.”
The cafeteria was a different one than the one he previously had. This one had actual walls instead of plastic coverings. Kyle had wanted to go back and visit his old roommates perhaps or maybe go find Lydia, the lady from his old cafe, but he hadn’t gotten the chance yet. His assignments for the past few days had all been quite far from that part of the settlement.
He pushed open the metal doors and stepped into the warm eating area. The place was a lot darker than the one he had been at before, but much warmer. There were large glass windows but the dreary light didn’t do much to lighten the atmosphere. There were electrical lights inside, but those were permanently off to save power as it was still the 24 hour daylight cycle in the south pole.
“The Lord is here with us, despite our sins and our folly, he sends his chosen to guide our way!” A prayer group had gathered within the warm lunchroom once more. It had become routine at this point. Kyle couldn’t help but notice the gazes in his direction wherever he went. He had done his best to tune it out, but it still bothered him. “Despite our pride in seeking the power of God causing the end of the world, our Father still forgives us. Now, more than ever we must follow his will if we are to achieve salvation. We Servants of the Chosen shall devote our existence to serving him. Amen!”
His two companions joined with Amens of their own. He did not.
As he stepped toward the soup line everyone stood to the side hastily to let him through. Someone accidentally dropped their bowl with a loud clatter.
“Christ, relax people," Kyle said, bending down to pick up the bowl. “Carry on, don’t mind me.” He gave the metal bowl back to the man who began bowing and thanking him profusely. “Well go on then, all o’ yeh.” He looked around at everyone staring at him.
The people shrugged and returned to form a line, some offering a quick prayer before doing so.
He sighed. This had happened everyday since he had been assigned here. It was starting to get on his nerves. This area, it seemed, had been fully taken over by the religion or cult or whatever it was. It was difficult to talk to anyone when they were all looking at him reverently like he was some sort of chosen one.
They finished up their meals, now reduced to soup with flavoring mixed with mysterious chunks of unknown “protein”, and made their way outside just as the workday horn sounded. As they made their way to the nearby workstation, Kyle couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy. At first it had seemed innocuous enough, he had just recovered, of course they assigned easier tasks for him and kept an eye on him in case he needed help.
But his two roommates seemed to always be on the same jobs as him. His supervisors were always the same few people. His new housing was also a surprise. He had first assumed they were temporary and he would go back to his old room, but it appeared he was to permanently stay in this new part of the settlement. On the surface it seemed fine by him, he welcomed nights that weren’t frigid and he could finally get a good night’s sleep now that he had a bed and not just a bathtub.
However, his days felt like they were under constant scrutiny. It was slowly dawning on him that his status as a “Chosen One” might turn out to have implications that were more complicated than he knew. Things became more apparent when he got his task for the day.
“Kyle Wilson?” The taskmaster, a young looking man with sandy blonde hair, frowned down at his tablet from inside the operations booth. “Looks like you’re to start training to become a specialist.”
“Well, I’ll be damned," Oliver looked at him. “Looks like things are working out fer ye, mate.”
“I ain’t your mate," Kyle glared at him. “What gives? Why now?” He said looking back at the taskmaster.
“Gov’ness’s orders," the man said, scribbling down something on a sheet of paper and then tearing a piece off. “Came in just today too. This is gonna throw off a few shifts.” He scowled once more and handed him the segment he had torn off. “Here’s where ye goin’. Now off you go.”
Kyle snatched the paper out of his hand. ROBOTICS was printed at the top.
“Wait, wot the fuck is this? I’m not steppin’ a single foot in that place," he said with a snarl.
“You got a problem, take it up with the gov’ness," the taskmaster said, already looking at the next set of orders. “Ye can file a complaint over there.” The man jerked his head toward a worn out looking tablet on the counter.
Kyle slammed the slip of paper down on the counter. “I ain’t goin there, I’m tellin’ ye give me a new set of orders!”
“Hey, hey! What’s going on, mate?” Oliver said, pulling him back. “What’s gotten into you?”
Kyle pushed him off, furious. “I told you I ain’t your mate.”
“Well, it’s just a figure o’ speech inni–”
“Those fuckers killed my friend --my REAL mate– George!” Kyle yelled, jabbing his finger at the slip of paper. “I ain’t having nothin’ to do with them.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Noah murmured, “The survivor dances not with Death for he has seen its true visage.”
“What are you on about?” Kyle glared at him.
“But he is the best for the job is he not? For he has seen Death at the border and knows him intimately.”
Kyle grabbed him by the collar violently. “What the FUCK are you talking about?”
“Mr. Wilson!” came a voice from behind him.
“Maybe settle down a bit, would you?” It was a rather tan amber eyed woman. A few whisps of brown hair escaped from her thick parka hood and blew in front of her eyes. “I’m here to bring you to the governess.”
“Oh?” Kyle let go of Noah abruptly. “We goin’ to have a little chat are we?”
“She figured you might start crackin’ the shits like this so she’s tasked me to bring you in for a bit of an explanation," She turned to nod at Oliver and Noah, “You two keep goin’ with your tasks.” Then, with a brief gesture towards Kyle she turned and began walking off.
Kyle looked after her, conflicted, until Oliver tapped him on the shoulder and pointed after her, “Oi mate, yer missin’ yer ride. Go on then.”
Kyle grunted in begrudging compliance then jogged after the woman.
***
The governess’s office was at the center of the settlement. Or it would have been had they not needed to hastily erect a nuclear generator there. The governing offices were therefore 500 meters grid northwest of the center. The walk there was close enough that they didn’t need a vehicle, but far enough that the cold was able to settle into their bones by the time they got there.
Kyle was surprised at the shabbiness of the central governing buildings. They looked almost like they had simply propped large shipping crates up on a few concrete blocks and added windows. Tangles of wires criss-crossed haphazardly above. The specialist housing units that they had passed by on the way here had seemed much more luxurious in comparison. At least those had an extra layer of fencing to divide it off from the shared community areas.
They dodged a few transport vehicles and stepped into a busy scene. People were tapping away on tablets and shouting orders, trying to get the right orders to the right people. They weaved past people filing in and out of one of the buildings. A few people looked up, surprised to see him, but they just nodded him through. For once Kyle felt at ease. All of the prayer and wild reverence directed at him since he had woken up in the hospital was disconcerting to him; right now he could just be another guy.
“Here’s the man of the hour," The woman in front of him announced once they were inside. Despite the electric heater in the corner, the temperature was not much better than that of the outside.
The rather weathered black woman sitting behind the desk peered up at him with an unimpressed weary expression. “Grace, all you ever do is walk in here with more problems.”
The blonde woman walked smoothly by her, “Well, they aren’t my problems until someone dumps them on me.” She paused in front of a metal door located approximately at the halfway point of the box structure, “Besides you’d miss me otherwise.”
“Miss what? Miss out on all yo’ drama? Maybe I’d finally have a day o’ peace and quiet for once.”
Grinning, Grace gave two smart raps on the metal door, then opened it without waiting for a reply. “Gov’ness, I got’im.”
Kyle stepped into the room with her and was confronted by what looked like a digital table displaying a map of the colony. Standing at the table was a middle aged looking woman with a worn expression. She had auburn blonde hair that looked like it was losing a battle against a silvery invasion all tied up in a messy bun. Her bronze colored eyes darted back and forth as she tapped away on a tablet.
There was a pregnant pause as she ignored them.
Then:
“Mr. Kyle Wilson, we meet again," She said without looking up. “Grace, close the door. And lock it this time.”
After the door clicked shut, she looked up from her work.
“So I suppose you want to know why I’ve decided to put you in Robotics," she said in a weary voice. She sat down, almost as if collapsing, in a fold-up chair next to the digital table. She let out a deep sigh, a sigh that reminded Kyle of an old rusty machine powering down.
“Err… Yeah," Kyle was a bit put off by her demeanor, his initial rage seemed to have evaporated.
“We’re in a tough spot Mr. Wilson," Gov. Evans said. “I mean look at this place.” She pointed around, “I bet you were surprised coming in weren’t you? The center of our settlement, our grand establishment, is just a pile of boxes. We threw this down at the beginning and never got the chance to remodel.”
She gave Kyle a hard look. He tried his best to return it.
“I’ve just been notified there’s a good chance we may need to shut down one of the nuclear generators for a week to fix something up. Do you know what that means?” She asked. “I’ve got people ready to riot already.”
Kyle didn’t have any idea what this had to do with him and it must have shown on his face because then the governess said, “But! Then you showed up. A miracle.”
“Me? Wot have I gots to do with fixin’ a generato-”
“No, you can’t but you represent hope, Kyle," Theresa Evans got up from the chair and began pacing. “I’ve got the Labor Union and the Specialist Union at odds. To be honest, I agree with the Labor Union, but I can’t do anything to tick off the Specialists because they are key to the survival of this settlement.”
“So us labor folk just gotta keep dying?” Kyle said, anger creeping into his voice.
“Why do you think I’m starting a training program?” The governess said. “At some point I’m going to need more specialists actually willing to do their jobs when things go south. If they go on strike, I need capable workers or everything could fall apart.”
“And that’s where you come in," Grace said, pulling up a chair. “Everyone’s got their eyes on you. Right now if a laborer tries to go through training and move up, they’ll be seen as a traitor. But if you do it…”
“Ok, but why Robotics? Can’t it be something else?” Kyle said.
“Like what? Reactor Maintenance? That’s too dangerous. We can’t afford to lose you” Theresa said.
“What about Construction Planning then?”
“What’s the point o’ that? Construction Planning is already chums with Laborers that’s not gonna change anything," Grace interjected. “We need someone in a specialist class that the Laborers hate.”
“And THAT is Robotics," The governess concluded. “You’d be good at it too. You were personally affected by it, which means you’d be extra careful to get things right. You know how it feels to work out there with these dangerous machines.”
“It don’t feel right," Kyle said.
“Listen, the Laborers for the most part see you as one of them. Now with this Gifted thing and that weird cult spreading its influence, you could be the one to help pull things together… at least until we get things running.”
Kyle glared at her. “‘Pull things together’ you mean convince them to keep sacrificing themselves ‘For the greater good’.”
The governess sighed again. “At least until we get all the generators set up, we’ll be in a better place by then… hopefully.”
“Hopefully," Kyle said, eyebrows furrowed. He thought for a moment. Maybe Robotics wouldn’t be so bad. Sure, he might be seen as a traitor to a lot of the Laborers but he might be able to find closure for George that way. Plus she was right, if he was part of Robotics, he could hold them more accountable for their actions. As a Laborer he could do nothing. “Alright then. I’ll go… to Robotics… for now.”
“Cool," Grace leapt up. “Daylight's burning, let's head on out.”
“I’m truly glad for your help, Kyle," the governess looked at him with the faintest hint of relief. “For all we know, we could be the last settlement on earth.”
“We’re not," Kyle said, then he turned and left leaving the governess with a quizzical expression on her face.