Chapter 83 - A Worker's Life (Patreon)

<---Chapter 82 - The Union|Table of Contents|Chapter 84 - Mindtwister--->

Two weeks later...

The ringing bells echoed through the Seven Snakes District as the first light peeked over the smog-filled tips of the buildings, the bright rays reflecting off the tall housing complex apartments where hundreds of sleep-deprived workers were stirring awake.

"Culo, wake up, wake up! If you're late you're going to lose your damn job." A pair of hands shook the bed violently, the sleeping man tossing and turning under the thin blanket before jolting awake.

"...wha?" Culo grumbled as he rubbed his groggy eyes, trying to get a good look at the arctech clock, ticking away quietly at the ceiling of his shared dormitory room. "Five in the morning?"

"Get up, else I'm gonna leave without you!" His roommate gave him a hearty slap on the back, before rushing to queue up for the smaller communal bathhouse that had now been situated on every floor of the apartment building.

"Just... just a few more minutes." Culo lay back down, his eyelids barely budging open as he could feel the fatigue accumulating in his bones, his mind already dreading the working days to come. As he stretched his limbs, trying to release the strain, his hand rubbed against a ragged piece of paper, featuring a painted portrait of his brother and his village back in Ocra.

That painting alone galvanized him, realizing what he had came to Raktor for. Nothing comes without sacrifice. Culo repeated the mantra in his head, forcing himself up and towards the bathhouse beneath the winding halls of the housing complex to have a simple wash of his face and hair. As he joined the queue, the workers barely talked to each other, retaining their strength for the long workday ahead as they shuffled in silence, each taking turns to rinse themselves clean.

Soon, he was out onto the street like clockwork, joining a throng of workers that shambled in a slowly burgeoning crowd, all of whom were heading towards three sharp chimneys that jutted out of the city akin to a spine, the Aspis Weapons Factory looming ominously over its counterparts.

No one spoke a single word to each other, the initial joy that had infected the workers in the first month now long lost. Many kept their mouth shuts, focused far more on the time than the crowd around them. Culo himself had already lost track of his roommate, becoming just another face in the sea of factory workers.

The hissing of arctech wagons unloading workers from other districts, the continuous chime of ladies waking up other workers living in their own houses alongside the kids who trailed behind with trays filled with breakfast meals melded into the background as Culo marched incessantly, his brain hardly functioning. Even as he walked past Thresher Street, the sight of the pornographic displays and erotica only drew a short glance from him, before he mindlessly made his way towards the factory.

Soon, he was one of hundreds queuing up in the factory for the routine security check, the aggressive handling of the Seven Snakes recruits manhandling their belongings and clothes. "Five minutes till the next shift!" A foreman called out with a loudhailer, the workers picking up speed a little as they shuffled to and fro. Culo moved to his locker in the changing room, swapping out his clothes for a standard overalls uniform with the number 384, buttoning it up only to wince at his raw fingers that were still healing from burns.

As he closed his locker, the workers from the current shift began to enter the changing room, Culo recognizing one of them, a fellow Versian migrant from Ocra as well, though not his village. He tried to get his attention, but his friend barely acknowledged his surroundings, acting like a mindless drone as he simply went through the motions. It pricked Culo's heart a little at how much has been lost, but he brushed it off, focusing on what he came here to do.

"Shift starting in a minute! If you're late, you lose one hour of wages every minute!" Another manager hollered, spurring the workers on into a sort of frenzy as everyone broke out into a slight jog, heading towards their assembly line stations and forming up with the rest of their production team, Culo following suit. Culo was surprisingly one of the few adults in the team, the youngest of the team being only twelve years old. Children were far cheaper in terms of wages compared to adults, so Culo could count his lucky stars.

"Welcome back, boys. Here's to a more productive day. Yesterday we fell behind on our production goals of twenty-four sets, so we'll have to make up for the shortfall." The foreman's speech elicit a few groans from the workers, but no one dared to speak out, not with the Seven Snakes associates patrolling the factory armed with the improved repeaters.

"Last shift we had three rejected vambraces, five rejected sabatons and two rejected rifles. Those workers have been relegated to the steel moulding station. If you don't want to get assigned there, I suggest you all do get better at etching, and etch faster!" The foreman continue berating the production team, pointing out their errors and their flaws. "I can't afford anyone to make anymore mistakes, else all of us get the chop, you hear? There are hundreds waiting at the job distribution center for your very position now!"

The shift began in earnest, Culo taking his place along the assembly line as he grabbed the arcia etcher dangling from above his station, turning the embedded dial up to increase the temperature of the tip, ready to get to work. Already the sweltering heat was starting to get to him over the next few minutes, the sweat clinging to his skin and uniform as his back was drenched, working tirelessly in a never-ending chain of production, a single cog in the machine doing the same thing on repeat.

"416! You're late by ten minutes!" The foreman's voice carried over to him over the din of machinery, but Culo did not dare to turn around and look. "You'll be docked accordingly!"

"Sir, please, there was a hold-up on my wagon. Another body turned up again - it's one of the Masters of the Societ-"

"I don't give a shit who got executed this time round. Baron Cain made it clear that these are the acts of terrorists and should not affect you. The simple fact is you turn on time, or you won't be paid! Now get to your position or you can be blacklisted for life!"

Thank the heavens I was on time. As the next vambrace was passed to him, he placed and clamped the guiding sample over the vambrace, hurriedly stuffing the etcher's tip into the various groove and carving away as fast as he could, before applying a binding agent to settle the etching in. Giving a quick cursory look, he handed it off to the next person, who sanded the edges and the bulbous layers left over by the etching and binding agent, smoothing it down. The following station's workers fixed temporary arcia terminals on it, running a test flow through it to see if the engravings worked as expected. Once they were done with the simple test, a layer of protective coating was applied before being tossed into a reflow oven, the coating naturally equalizing over the various grooves and notches of the etching to provide a continuous surface.

Each worker continued on tirelessly - vambraces, gauntlets, cuirass, helmet, greaves, boots, rifles and pauldrons were moulded, refined, etched, sanded, smoothen, layered and then re-etched again, followed by a quality check.

With twenty members in the production team, Culo was one of the ten engravers, while the others had to face the brunt of the factory's heat in the steel pressing and moulding machine. Other teams tempered and heat-treated the steel before the production team got their hands on it, creating a fully in-house vertical economy where every material was within reach of each other.

The soot and grime from the factory began to accumulate on their faces, as the toxic fumes from the arcia etching fluid and high temperature outgassing of the steel made their way into Culo's bloodstream, though he did not understand how it truly affected him. All he knew was that he could feel his body slowly dying, having chalked it up to continuous lack of sleep.

Moving through the routine, Culo etched piece after piece, changing out the guiding samples regularly and checking, his mind completely hollow save for his hands moving automatically on instinct, drilled into him over the last month and a half. The other workers were the same, no one even exchanging a single glance at each other, nor did they have the energy to spare. Culo could see a few of his team members taking the downtime between pieces to get some shuteye, dozing off immediately the moment they closed their eyes.

Culo tried to do that, but he was not as adept as the others. As he tried to sneak in a quick nap, he was suddenly rudely awaked by a gauntlet smacking him right in the face, the foreman's angry face glaring right at him. "384! Get your shit together! You didn't apply enough of the binding agent for the etching to work on this part of the damn gauntlet, and here you are sleeping on the fucking job! If you want to sleep, I can swap you out with someone else who's more willing!"

"No sir, please, I need the job, I'm sorry! I'll fix it right now." Culo hurriedly grabbed the gauntlet, his hands flustered as he grabbed the wrong guiding sample, almost etching in the wrong traces before the foreman stopped him.

"You fucking idiot, you-" The foreman's rage was interrupted by the clanging of the lunch bell, the large factory arctech clock that controlled the lives of the worker hanging overhead booming with a resounding chime. "I'll deal with you after this - this better be your last fuckup!"

Culo apologized feverishly as the production team shuffled off, handing over their positions to a part-time team made up of the trade-school students. Their starry-eyed and relaxed demeanor only reminded the workers of how badly they were suffering right now, the mood only worsening as they headed to the factory's messhouse, queuing up for their mandatory meal.

Culo had his head hung low, ashamed of the mistake as he queued up. His depression was interrupted by a worker shouting at the top of his lungs near the front of the queue. "What?! I got to pay for this now? Shit, this used to be part of the free meal!"

"I don't make the calls, honey." The lunchlady gritted her teeth. "If you got a problem, take it up with the management."

"Fuck you, just give me a scoop of that damn soup - since when do we have to pay for soup?"

"Since you boys aren't making enough money, I guess. NOW MOVE ALONG, YOU'RE HOLDING EVERYONE ELSE UP!" The lunch lady motioned with a dripping ladle, some of it splashing onto the shouting worker.

The shouting worker turned to face the others in line, noticing that some were clearly angry at him for holding up the queue. "You guys really going to pay for soup? When we're working 16 hours a day, being paid only for eight hours? This is bullshit!"

"Still more than what we get outside!" A worker retorted.

"But at what cost?!"

The quarrel continued for a few more minutes, some of the workers murmuring in agreement, while others yelled back, telling the worker to move aside. A scuffle broke out between them, prompting the Seven Snakes guards assigned to the factory to immediately charge in and arrest the original complaining worker, hauling him off to an unknown fate.

Culo heaved a sigh of relief that the queue was moving along again, checking the time on the clock again. 20 minutes left. I can eat in ten, and then I'll catch a nap for five-

It was only now that the irony of his reaction began to hit him. How low have I sunk that I can easily succumb to the whims of the factory? When was I this obsessed with time?

As he glanced around the queue, each worker was also nervously looking at the clock, hoping that they had enough time left to finish their lunch. Some even boasted their own pocket-watches, checking them regularly to make sure they were completely on-time, fearful of being accused by the foremen. He watched as the workers who already had their meal gobbled down the cheap radish stews and mashed potatoes hurriedly, their eyes continuously glancing at the clock to see if they could afford a quick ten minute nap.

Culo felt out of place, as if he was an observer of a dystopian nightmare. Regret began to well up in him, as he wondered why did he even leave his village in the first place. He had succumb to the rumors of good standard of living and good food in the city, as well as the wages being far higher than whatever he and his brother was earning. Yet the life was far easier and simpler back home - he used to only work a few hours a day, and that was only during the harvest seasons.

Now? He was clocking in sixteen hours a day, non-stop, everyday of the week. Culo tried to convince himself that it was only temporary, just like the factory managers said. But he had this sinking feeling that it was going to be quite permanent, the feeling only intensifying when the food portion he received from the lunch lady was clearly smaller than the week before, the factory skimping out on ingredients.

Culo shuffled over to an empty seat, shovelling the tasteless grub into his mouth without caring about the taste. As he chewed, swallowed, chewed, swallowed, he wondered to himself just how did things become like this for him. He no longer found joy in food, nor did he find joy in his life. He could barely see the meal in front of him as anything other than just something to provide energy for him, a far cry from the succulent wild meat from tusken rabbits that he and his brother used to savour in the cold winter together. What the hell am I doing here?

"Hey, you alright? This free for me to sit?"

The sudden call broke Culo out of his stupor, seeing another unfamiliar worker pointing towards the empty bench opposite him. "Err, yea, of course."

"Alright. You sure you're fine? Saw you staring at the meal for a while now."

Has it been that long? Culo glanced at the clock, noticing he had been eating for ten minutes, with only another ten minutes left. "I'm fine, sorry. I'll make a move first, gonna try to catch some sleep first."

"Hey, hey, hey, no need to rush off. I know that look on your face. You don't like what's happening around here, don't you?"

Culo glanced around nervously, wondering if this was a trap of some sort, evoking a laugh from the other worker. "I'm not out to make you lose your job. You know, you're not the only one to feel this way. Others do too."

"Others do too?" Culo had this impression he was the only one, especially judging from the expressions of his fellow team members.

"Of course, its just that nobody dares to step out of line, lest they end up like that guy. Everyone wants to keep their jobs, right?"

"Yea... I guess so." Culo kept a low profile, making sure none of the Seven Snakes guards else was listening. "If you step out of line, you get grabbed like that complaining worker did. The Seven Snakes are far too brutal - they execute everyone that goes against them!"

"I know. They killed a Master of the Society of Friendly Weaponsmiths , and most of the landowners too, all for their own benefit. It really makes you wonder, are you really getting paid your fair share from all the money they are making?"

"Hold on, hold on," Another worker nearby interjected, clearly invested in the topic. "They already said they didn't do it - it was someone else trying to frame them. I heard Baron Cain's announcement way back-"

"Come on, how naive can you be?" The unfamiliar worker groaned. "Tell me, who benefits the most from the master dying? Who benefitted from the landlords dying? It's the Seven Snakes! They have all the motive in the world to do so. With the Society inept as ever, no one dares to organize against the Seven Snakes, and they bought all the confiscated land deeds up at market price with the Baron's blessing. Ridiculous, if you ask me, to think that people could believe their lies so easily."

"The Society was useless to begin with - they only look out for their own, not dumb factory workers like us. The last time I tried to join, they just laughed at me and called me unskilled. Told me to wait twelve years." The other worker retorted.

"Still, the Seven Snakes are benefitting the most. Look at how they got us all lined up like compliant sheep, ready to burn our lives away for the numbers on their papers to simply increase another digit."

"What are you trying to get at?" Culo interrupted. "We can't do anything, we got no power."

The unfamiliar worker grinned, but soon began to speak faster as he spotted a Seven Snakes guard looking at his direction. "Like I said, you two, you're not the only ones dissatisfied. If you want things to change, come find me after your shifts just outside the gate." He left as abruptly as he joined, grabbing his meal tray and moving to another seat.

Culo and the other worker traded a few glances, before returning to their meal. The bell rang again once more, the factory clock dictating his life yet again. He stuffed what was left of the meal and hurriedly returned to the assembly line, avoiding the glare of his foreman and focusing on making sure he didn't cause another mistake.

The hours flew by, but Culo felt like he had worked for an eternity, staring at the same spot in the same posture, the etcher having already became a part of him, the continuous clanging of machines a part of his life, drowning out his thoughts. He briefly entertained the thought of meeting the unfamiliar worker, but he quickly brushed it off, not wanting to risk anything for the wages he was earning.

Despite the physical and mental suffering that he was experiencing now, the money was still benefitting his home village to some degree at least. Whats more, the job was the only reason why he had a free dormitory to stay in, reducing his total cost of living. If he were to be evicted, then he would either have to rent or return home defeated.

With that settled, Culo toughened himself out, gearing himself for a productive sprint when a loud shout bellowed from the front of the assembly line. "The machine is down! The machine is down!"

The steel press machine was now malfunctioning, sparks erupting from the errant engravings that seemed to have cause a few gears to have jammed up, preventing the metal press from lowering or moving up. One of the workers tried to reach his hand in, attempting to dislodge the gears, but his hand was far too big. Production team members began to clamour around the machine , wondering if their pay would get docked because of the sudden disruption. The foreman himself was panicking, calling up everyone he could think of to try and solve the issue as quickly as possible.

Soon, the solution came in the form of small children, two girls who were barely eight years old, but they were paid well thanks to their small size and nimble fingers, able to weave through the tiny gaps that an adult couldn't and fix the machines. Culo relaxed a little, knowing that the kids were good at fixing machines, a well-known staple of the factories around the city. The rest of the members returned to their stations as well, about to take advantage of the failure to sleep when suddenly a blood-curdling scream erupted from the same spot.

When Culo turned to look, the most heart-rending shriek engraved itself into his mind as he saw the originally tiny scrawny body of the girl dragged into the merciless gears, the sound of her arm and shoulder snapping asunder while the steel press moved on its pre-defined motion. The foreman stared helplessly as the machinery twisted her around, drawing the skin and flesh tighter and tighter into the gears, her limbs flailing widely whilst the blood splattered and streamed upon the floor, the oozing fluid snaking its way to Culo's feet.

While the rest of Culo's team stayed rooted, he was the only one who rushed out of his chair, attempting to throw a nearby curiass into the metal press in a bid to lodge the machine right into its gear. The freshly produced curiass was crushed, prompting him to toss in another sabaton before anyone on the team could react. The amount of steel finally jammed the steel press, Culo hurriedly reaching over to save the girl. "What are the rest of you doing? Help me!"

The members immediately got to work, extracting the mangled twisted arm of the girl, her shoulder entirely broken into fragments that were protruding from every angle, her head lulling out lifelessly as blood continued to gush out of the open wounds. "Get a healing potion, quick! Someone must have one!" Culo glanced around frantically for a solution as he laid the girl on the floor, but another small hand grabbed his shoulder.

He turned to see the other young girl, who shook her head sadly while pointing at her partner. Culo looked down to see that the girl was clearly already dead, her face locked in excruiating pain and anguish. He placed the body down gently, still shocked from the horrifying accident while the girl's partner began to wrap the bloody body arm with the help of the others. It was then he noticed that the girl's partner herself was missing a finger or two on both her hands, with one of them still wrapped up, the muscles and skin stripped to the bone from fixing other machinery.

As if on cue, the large factory arctech clock boomed without emotion, signalling the end of the shift. Unlike the other workers who immediately left, he was rooted to the spot, watching the others carry off the lifeless body of the girl, the girl's partner almost treating this like it was a daily occurrence.

It wasn't the first time it had happen in the weapons' factory, but Culo had just never seen it happen on his assembly line, his mind trying to make sense of it all. Instead, he earn a slap to the back of the head, the foreman angrily berating him. "Look at what you've done to the damn gears! It's going to take an entire day to fix this! You can forget about coming in until it's done, and your wages will be docked until you pay off the damages!"

The foreman's rage infuriated Culo beyond belief, his eyes nearly clouded with anger. Still, Culo held his tongue, not speaking a word as he gather his things and left for the changing room. Instead of his usual tired self at the end of every shift, he now slammed the locker door with fury unbeknownst even to himself, changing and hurriedly moving out of the factory, hoping to find the unfamiliar worker outside.

He did not see him, his hopes plummeting tremedously. This is hell. The managers are inhumane. The workers are mindless. And the owners are oppressing us! As he walked through Thresher Street, moving along with the returning workers, he saw a few workers clearly diverting off the usual path back to the housing complex, some of them turning into an alleyway. Catching onto the clue, he picked up the pace, hurriedly turning the corner and seeing their figures disappearing into a basement staircase, secretly tucked away behind a pile of trash.

Culo gingerly stepped forward towards the staircase, instead coming face to face with the unfamiliar worker coming out from behind the pile of trash, seemingly having placed something inside. Before Culo could question what the worker was doing, the worker grinned instead and warmly greeted him, distracting him. "Comrade, I knew you would come. Come in, everyone else is waiting for you."

As the two of them entered, the alleyway returned to its usual lonely atmosphere, only punctuated by the girl's partner walking alone towards the same staircase. She rummaged through the trash, looking over her shoulder to make sure nobody spotted her. Her hands felt for a familiar touch, before gripping onto a wad of rakels that had clearly just been placed recently, tucking it away in her shabby dress while she strolled off, whistling into the cold wind.

<---Chapter 82 - The Union|Table of Contents|Chapter 84 - Mindtwister--->