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It would have been any normal Tuesday for Mark, reading up on top secret documents, leaking information, messing with his co-workers. Oh, how he would miss setting up a Rube Goldberg machine to pour coffee on Paige, or signing in to everything on Tyrone’s computer, changing his passwords, then signing out again, then explaining to his superiors, that everything that he has ever done is completely justified, and somehow getting away with it, oh how he would miss all of that.
Unfortunately for our boy Mark, this Tuesday would not be the same as the rest, he had been called into the CEO’s office once he had entered the building, climbing up the steps to the highest floor, there were 322, and Mark had started at the bottom, he looked out onto the glittering landscape, admiring, though wondering why the CEO had called for him, and why he had also specifically told him to not use the elevator.
Minutes later, once he had arrived at the highest floor, he stood once again basking in the greatness of the look of this door, as he had done years ago when he first got hired. The carving on the door depicted a sleeping lion, gold outlining the mane of the majestic beast, and above the slumbering lion was an eerie eye, inside a pyramid, both the eye and the pyramid were, detailed, detailed like you’ve never seen, while for some unknown reason everything else seemed blurry, while he knew that it was not, and that threw Mark off, he would still go in, albeit a lot tenser than before.
Walking up to the door, feeling the grooves of the carving, Mark once again eyed the eye, and for a second Mark could have sworn he saw it look upon him. Shaking off the strange feeling, he pushed, only to realize it was a pull door, which it wasn’t before. This time pulling the door, Mark had backed up a bit, he; now, keep in mind Mark had seen this place before, but that had not kept him from gasping in awe.
The ceiling was gilded, the walls gilded, everything was covered in gold, yet it didn’t look tacky, or like it was too much, his look at the room gets cut short by the CEO’s voice, but just before he got cut off, he saw, four large muscular men, standing in each of the corners
“Stop your gaping.” He flicks some dirt off of his fingernails, “Do you know why I called you here today,” Mark went to answer before being cut off again, “It’s because of some of the latest serious security breaches, and I wanted to know if you knew anything about it.”
Mark, once he had heard those last few words, knew he had messed up, and badly too. He had to talk quickly and convincingly if he were to continue working, he looked at the guards in each corner once again.
“No sir, I’m afraid I don’t know anything about it, sir, maybe you could enlighten me?”
The CEO laughed, it was a pained laugh, but through anger and not sadness, and answered.
“No, just from your reaction alone, you’re fired, and I should have done this 3 years ago.”
Mark knew that he was done for. There was nothing to help him now, no funny hahas he could pull, no elaborate talks, no bribes, no intimidation, absolutely nothing.
He took a short breath, ”What were the papers you signed when we first hired you? I’ll answer; 7 separate NDA’s, and you somehow managed to violate them all. Tell me, why?”
Mark answered, stupidly, “I’m telling you, sir, I don’t know anything about it. I ca-”
That was when the CEO waved his hand, and the guards suddenly grabbed him, dragging him to the side, through a door disguised as a wall.
The CEO, once Mark and the guards had disappeared, sighed.
“If only these people could learn, maybe then I wouldn’t have to do this.”
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Fowler woke with a start, his eyes forced open by the blinding light. Quickly shielding his eyes, he rolled over to put his face on the mattress. Unfortunately, the still light seeped through, the intercom came on, and the familiar robotic female voice leaked in,
“Hello, and welcome back, we hope you had a good night's rest! However, you still have work to do, time to get out there, and remember working makes you free!”
He groaned, it was the same message every day since he’d been in here, and to the misfortune of everyone, it was cheerful, and especially because of last night, or maybe last week, Fowler couldn’t remember, not that he wanted to try on account of the hangover. Josh had finally gotten out, he was free, management had let him go, fired for those unaware, not that outside was any better, but at least you had freedom.
You see, Fowler had been working for one of the richest corporations on this side of the galaxy, for 10 to 15 years, without break, without vacation days, without sick days, without days to visit his mother, without any of those simple luxuries, oh and I forgot, no dental.
He had never enjoyed the job, nor liked it all that much, the two things he did like was the alcohol, it was cheap I’ll be honest, but it wasn’t like Fowler was getting anything better soon, and the pay was minuscule, to say the least, but at the miserable have their company, now the second reason; the goddamn view when they see the dark and endless reaches of space, as they come out of their rooms
Rolling back over and standing up, he kept his face to the ground, trying to keep his eyes out of the light, slowly, as if through muscle memory alone, he put on his clothes, his jackets, his gloves, and the singular hardhat, in his line of work, the mining Salvonic crystals, highly reactive, and bluish in color, keep in mind these will explode if put under very small amounts of stress, and most had seen their fair share of rookies, becoming a sliced and diced version of themselves; so management, in order to curb the rising death toll, gave everyone another jacket, two jackets now, what an improvement.
They were mining with picks before, but after a big chunk of their workforce died, they switched it to a laser drill, which cost a lot of money, that was coming out of their employee’s pockets. But, could you imagine that the richest company in the northern sector isn’t taking care of its workers?
Now that I am done with that tiny little rant, we will go back to Fowler, who walked past the windows in front of his door, in which he could have stopped to view the vast reaches of space, and is now walking through stone tunnels with doors lining the walls towards the pub, which is where the previously implied party took place, and where the food is served, and there is one thing I will give these people, it’s that they knew how to keep a workforce addicted, and therefore happy.
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Fowler arrived soon after, his head still pounding. The pub, as most people call it, is underground, like most of the facility, so it’s pretty bland to look at, with jagged rock walls, like in the mine, a pretty bland bar, and several tables scattered across the room, reminiscent of a high school cafeteria.
After ordering the usual stuff, Fowler looks back at the menu and notices some new items, including a new beverage he had not seen before, after deliberating for a moment he calls back and asks for the Wistom Beer. Sitting down at the same table as last time, right in the middle, he sees his neighbor, Tristan, who just walked into the bar, and waves him over.
“You hear there’s a new beer?” Tristan asks.
Fowler replies, “Almost didn’t see it was there, but yeah I ordered it.”
“Good thing too, that Northside stuff you’ve been drinking for this past month, it’ll kill ya faster than one of our crystals exploding. And we both know how bad that is. It also makes your hands shake like no tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure and tell me, where did this information come from this time?”
“A little birdie told me, and I won’t snitch on my informants, and I won’t snitch on me either, and speaking of informants, one of them recently has gotten fired, for, get this, espionage, and leaking secrets, could you imagine?”
“Yeah,” Fowler breathed deeply, before letting out a long sigh, “yeah I could, I definitely could.”
The server comes over with their drinks. Fowler and Tristan acutely notice both are bright neon blue, that swirls around to a greener hue.
“That looks like it will give me all of the worst kinds of cancer.”
Tristan doesn’t echo the sentiment. Taking a sip from the glass tankard, Fowler is quickly repulsed by the taste, while Tristan is not.
Now you may be wondering why I haven’t addressed the wake-up call. Well, I’ll address it now.
This place was an old prison camp, of an empire of great renown, and terrible deeds, that had prisoners mine these same crystals, of course, those inmates went without pay, while Fowler, Tristan, Josh, and the other hundreds of people do.
Getting paid scraps, for what might be the biggest economy in the federation, may not be reassuring to some, but this mine will be running dry soon, maybe after another one to two years, and then they will all be, either transferred or laid off so that they can see their families, and both are preferable, but the thought of it doesn’t make it happen any faster.
The morning was over and it was time for work. They worked deep inside the mine, due to this outpost being active for at least 20 years, since the new management took over, the mine has been active for over 50 years, with little fresh air to breathe, and jagged rock walls, formed from the former equipment. The work is always hard, and although Fowler likes to keep his mind empty, working with crystals that could potentially explode if you handle them wrong, tends to make you think before you act.
Speaking of, Fowler had just heard a scream followed by an explosion. Now, no one here was new to screams of alarm, shock, and terror, but listening to the cacophony of the rookie's screams, put them in a trance-like state, of pointing fingers for someone to tell their boss; and carefully setting down their equipment, and then gathering the bits and pieces to put in a box, to get sent out into space, which, lemme tell ya, no one wanted to do.
“Fowler should go, and Tristan too, you two are done with your quotas for the day right?” The one who spoke up, breaking the noise was a man, a burly manly man, named Thomas; now as many of you probably thought of adding the title of, Father, to the beginning of his name, let me tell you right now, with no uncertain words, that he does not believe in god, or any other deities and or devils, that may have tempted him, else he would not be here.
The two of them pick up their drills, stopping them from spinning up the coils inside, and put them onto the cart that they lugged around. Waving those fellows goodbye, they swiftly walked toward the stairway out of the mine, which was a good 500 metres away.
At the top of the stairs, Fowler sighs, and asks Tristan, ”So, who’s going to tell him, or should we do it at the same time? Because I do not want to deal with his shit.”
Tristan posits, ”Nah, I’ll do it, you did it last month.”
“Alright.”
And, with that, they head off towards the mine overseer’s office.
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The corridors were tight and barren, and barren in a bad way, it’s legitimately all grey, and rocky. When they eventually got out of the tunnel, they were greeted with a sight of a door, one that was immaculately carved in wood, depicting a sleeping lion with an eerie eye within a pyramid, that watches both the lion and the admirer; though none of the carving was blurry unlike for Mark, in which you hopefully remember.
It was a push door.
Inside is a spacious room, the walls being flat unlike most other walls in the complex, with little to no furniture, except a desk, that would not be out of place in a courtroom, and yes, I am referring to the seat in which the judge would preside over.
The mine overseer was in his office, his name was Geoff, when these two walked in, he was presumably checking some documents, most likely of some importance, and set them down once he realized that they had walked in.
“Well,” he motions with his hand for them to start talking.
Tristan speaks this time, as the last time somebody died on the job, Fowler had to talk instead.
“Well, Geoff, Melr is dead, thought you should know before the end of the day; you can give me my bonus at the end of the week, for me telling you this.”
Geoff, unsurprisingly, says to Tristan, “Get out, and no you are not getting a bonus.”
Tristan nods, “Wasn’t expecting it.”
Back at the pub area, at a table with just the two of them, Fowler leans back into a chair and remarks, “This place looks like shit.”
“You realise that now?”
“Yeah, I know that it’s always looked like this, but, I don’t think I realised the full extent of it. I mean, do you not see this exact setup in prison ships, schools, malls even. This place is just depressing to look at.”
“That’s because the only person you talk to, other than yourself, is me. What else are you doing at the bar when I’m not around? Nothing, other than drinking, and staring at a wall.”
A couple of days pass, and nothing too important happened, except a funeral, but they do not provide a service to those on the job, they do at least give a day off for funerals. But, they were getting a new batch of rookies today, though they were not volunteers, most likely prisoners of some far-off war, rebellion, maybe some political dissidents, you know, the usual.