I asked, "Level one? You said the top level."
"Numbering is reversed. This building goes five stories up and fifteen stories down into the ground."
The escort gave a bow and departed.
Denise looked around. "Well this ain't gonna cut it."
I smirked as I pulled her to me. "It'll just make us a closer family."
"Physically closer, but after that shuttle ride, I'm going to need a little more space."
Pea pulled on my hand. "Daddy? Where are we?"
I squatted and smiled. "This is our new home. Hopefully only for a short time."
"I like it. But where's the display?"
Denise went into a near panic at the thought of having little to no entertainment available while living with a three-year-old. After a quick search, we found a small-ish screen that slid out from a shelf.
Pea celebrated with a jump and a clap. "Yay!"
Denise held a look of relief.
I glanced over at the kitchenette. "At least we have a plasma warmer and a fridge."
I walked to the sliding door. "And a sonic shower."
The sonic shower had become an empire-wide mandate after wars had been fought over water resources. You would enter the shower to a high-intensity flash of eye-safe radiation that only impacted the surface of the skin, turning it into a fine white ash. From there a burst of sonic waves loosened the now-incinerated skin, also forcing it to absorb excess body oils. Just before exiting, heavy jets of air blew the residue to the floor where it was sucked through a grate.
The shower was considered a marvel of technology, when it worked. Too often the sonic wash or the air jets would fail, leaving you covered with the white-ash skin the flash of radiation had burned. Every household had a hand blower waiting to finish the job.
The Empire was full of such gadgets. The psychologists called it consumer addiction. We bought new convenience items to make use of our other convenience items when they partially failed. It was good to be a product manufacturer in the Union.
Denise's face held a scowl.
I gestured toward the hall. "What say we go check out the cafeteria and the shops?"
Denise sighed. "Let's hope they're more accommodating than this."
I opened the door to the hall. "Come on Pea, let's go see what's out there."
— Chapter 5 —
* * *
The cafeteria was a respectable size, seating up to two hundred patrons at any one time. Employees living on our floor would eat all meals in that room. Next door to the eatery was a lounge where people could go to unwind. Behind a glass wall was a well-lit, carpeted area with several displays, presumably where kids could play while the adults relaxed and watched them from the lounge. Just down the hall were four stores that made up the shopping plaza.
The stores were small. There was a clothing store, a grocery, a shop with entertainment related items such as toys, games, and booze, and lastly a bank with a single teller. All transactions on Echelon II were made using an Echelon Mining account. It was the same account where pay was automatically deposited and corporation bills were automatically deducted. There was a line of people waiting for a turn with the teller.
Denise was further depressed by the time we returned to the room. "I'm sorry I pushed so hard to come out here with you."
I glanced around at our tiny abode. "If we look on the bright side, it can only get better from here."
Denise returned a less-than-enthusiastic chuckle.
"If I get a chance, I'll talk to TC tomorrow. But I don't want to come in the first day as the complainer."
"No." Denise sighed. "Don't push it. Get your feet set first. We can survive in... this... whatever it is... for the next few days at least."
I kissed her forehead. She sat at our lone table with a smiling Pea taking the chair beside her.
She sighed while reaching over to muss the three-year-old's hair. "I wish I had your demeanor today."
"What's that, da-meen-or?" Pea curiously asked.
I pulled the display out from the shelf. "It means she wishes she was happy... like her little girl."
"Mommy, all you have to do is smile." A broad, forced grin covered Paulette's face.
It brought a smirk from Denise. "I guess all that glitters isn't gold."
The statement left me confused. "What?"
Denise twirled her hair with her fingers. It was one of those habits I found endearing.
"It's another old saying."
"Where are those coming from?"
"While you were schooling, I spent some time browsing cultures and history. I have a million of those by the way. Cat got your tongue? Don't get your knickers in a twist."
I chuckled to myself, wondering how bored she must have been to take on those studies to the point of remembering. I switched the display to the colony's local news channel which showed a commentator pointing at star maps. I turned up the volume.
"...reports remain to be fully validated, but if true, we may have our first confirmed encounter with other sentient alien life!"
Denise pulled her head back. "What? What'd they just say?"
We watched the news with fascination for the next several hours. Just after our departure from Demos, there had been reports of alien ships entering our tiny section of the galaxy. Speculations were bandied about as to who they were and whether or not they were friendly. Every expert was being questioned in a field where there were no experts. The more I listened, the less I liked.
Denise was shaking her head. "Perfect timing. That's only three days from here. What if they're hostile, Ray?"
I frowned. "I can't say I'm thrilled with this either. I mean it's exciting, aliens, but terrifying at the same time. Aliens!"
I attempted to comm TC. It was declined. We watched the news reports until the wee hours of the morning. All told, I got less than two hours of sleep, not ideal rest for my first day on the job.
At 6 a.m. I was up. Denise was still checking the news. The commentators had reported nothing new. I got a sonic shower, hurried down to the cafeteria for a hot caffeine bar and a juice, then rode the elevator up to the first floor as I ate. A dozen or so employees were crowded in front of the reception desk making it unreachable. Pushing and shoving accompanied raised voices as strained tempers flared.
I asked one of the men at the back of the crowd. "What's happening?"
"Don't know. They aren't telling us anything. Not sure they know anything."
An image of Thomas Goodall appeared on the display behind the receptionist station. He was speaking from the office of the President of Aarlis Mining and he looked the part. His face held a serious expression.
"Good morning, all. An eventful last few hours for most of you—I am certain. We are all wanting to ask the same questions, so I'll be as frank as I can be. We don't yet have any information beyond the earlier reports. It seems a group of alien ships has been discovered. That much has been confirmed. We want to know, are they a threat? Are they friendly? Will they bring new technology with them? What about disease?"
The response struck me as something an inexperienced executive would say. It lacked the tactful downplay of concerns one would expect.
"These are all questions that remain to be answered. Just know our government is doing all it can to properly manage the situation. The unknowns of this event are troubling to each of us. Stress levels are high. Staying calm until we know more is what we need to do."
I thought it an improvement from the start.
"What we also need to do is this; you were hired to come out here to do a job. Please go back to work until we have further information. There is only one situation we can control and that situation is here, on Echelon, getting these new mines up and running. It does none of us any good to speculate about what else might come."
And the inexperience was back.
"Each of you has signed contracts for your work and I expect each of you to honor those contracts. Should the situation change, sho
uld these visitors turn out to be hostile, we will make every effort to evacuate everyone from this planet. You will be flown to a colony that has a defense infrastructure and a defense fleet. Rest assured, those arrangements, should they be necessary, are being made."
One of the men yelled at the display. "We shouldn't be here! We're easy targets!"
Another added, "What of our families? We should at least be sending them home!"
An aide handed Thomas Goodall a tablet.
After a quick read, he looked back to the camera. "Good news. At least moderately so. Reports say the alien fleet consists of four ships. We have a dozen warships heading their way. And those four ships have been holding the same position for more than a day now."
TC leaned in. "So the initial threat appears to have diminished. We will continue our evacuation planning as a contingency, but all employees are to get to work, or back to work as it may be, at your respective tasks. Again, you are all under contract and are fully expected to honor those contracts. In the meantime, know that we have your safety and security foremost in our minds. Good day."
The display went black.
The receptionist pointed. "I need a line here please. First, do we have a Rayford Jackson here? If so, please stand over there to the left. For those who are up here for an appointment or meeting, form a line over here to the right. And for all others, I am sorry, given the circumstances, we will not be able to hear grievances here at this station. You will return to your work-levels where your ombudsman will give you direction as to your next step."
The receptionist pressed a button under her desk and two hulking armed guards came from a side room.
One of the guards gestured toward the elevator. "Let's go people. We all have work to be doing. That ore doesn't come out of the ground by itself."
Seven employees grumbled as the guards herded them back into the elevator. I stood alone to the left.
The receptionist turned. "Mr. Jackson?"
"Yes."
"Through that door to your left. Third door down on the right. You'll find the floor information officer there, Mrs. Bartholomew. She'll see that you get set up."
I nodded. "Thanks."
I only glanced up for a second, but it was long enough to see the scowls and looks of contempt from the others. Maybe I was on the executive staff, but I certainly didn't know any more than they did. I felt a sense of relief as I left the reception area and heard the door close behind me.
The information officer was waiting. She stood with her hand out. "Mr. Jackson. Janet Bartholomew. Sorry about the mess out front. I would have come out to greet you, but Mr. Goodall was about to speak."
I shook her hand. She had a vigorous shake. I likened it to that of most of the guys I knew. For an older woman, she was fit. She wore a company suit that was neat and pressed.
"Please. Follow me. I'll take you to your office and get you logged into the system. This morning, most of your time will be spent reading through the employee handbook and agreeing to the rules of employment."
"Rules of employment? I thought that was the contract?"
I followed Janet as she walked at a brisk pace. Her hard, flat shoes tapped on the polished floor as we went.
She spoke over her shoulder as we made our way down a long hall. "The contract you signed was merely your agreement to come out to Echelon to work for the corporation. It is a legal formality for all non-government colonies. Out here, wherever you go, you are on Aarlis Mining property."
We turned a corner where a second hall was lined with desks. Workers spoke softly into headpieces.
"The corporation itself makes and governs the rules, Mr. Jackson. Should you choose to not agree to the rules set forth, you will be transported to the nearest colony, Merchain. From there, you will be responsible for getting yourself home. The corporation will provide a loan in the event you do not have the funds needed for such transportation."
I thought to myself. "How generous of them."
We turned a final corner and strode toward the center of a sea of desks. I was taken to a workstation in the middle. Hundreds of other workers were mumbling into microphone headsets or perusing information on workspace displays. The office had no dividing walls, the desks all sat in the open. A flat touch-screen display covered the workspace's surface. My escort took a step up behind the desk, looking down.
"Janet Bartholomew. New user authorization."
The desk replied, "Authorization granted."
She took a step back, gesturing for me to move up.
"What do I say?" I felt embarrassed after asking as the question drew smirks from those seated around me.
"You say nothing. Just look down."
I took a step forward, following her instruction.
"Rayford Jackson. User confirmed. Welcome to Aarlis Mining."
She touched a panel on the desktop and a drawer opened. A headset was pulled and placed in my hand. "The display will guide you for now. When finished, expect a comm or a visit from your supervisor. Enjoy your day."
— Chapter 6 —
* * *
I pulled up an empty chair as Janet Bartholomew began the walk back toward her office. When I sat, the chair let out an attention-grabbing screech. A low moan followed as the air went out of the piston at its base. Chuckles came from those seated around me. I nodded, recognizing the office gag when I saw it.
I stood and looked around, spotting another empty chair three desks down. I pushed mine over, proud of myself for taking the initiative. They would not be laughing at me again. When the new chair was in position, I moved to try it again.
As I sat, another screech and long moan followed, this time with double the number of chuckles.
I turned to the man sitting behind me. "What is this?"
He smiled. "They all do it. Bad shipment. You'll get used to it."
A wave of screeches and moans swelled up, permeating the room as most of the other employees stood up and sat down in their chairs. Chuckles and smiles eased the tension. It was at that moment I felt I was part of a team. I read through and accepted the rules, then got ready to begin the business of operating a mine. Or at least my portion of such... whatever that was to be.
Seconds after I had completed and signed the Rule Acceptance Form, a face popped up on my display. "Almost three hours. Middle of the pack. I was under the impression you were a performer."
"Sorry?" I replied. "I didn't realize I was being timed."
"We time everything here, Mr. Jackson. My name is Siegfried Malonza. You work for me. I run a tight ship. The corporation will nullify the contracts of those at the bottom after each quarter, essentially removing those employees from the workforce. Gives us all incentive to put in a full day's work."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"I'm the Checking Staff Manager. I'll be sending you a series of diagrams and drawings. You'll be identifying deficiencies. Each find will earn you one credit in the bonus pool among you and the other checkers. If you find deficiencies, you have the ability to earn extra from that pool."
I nodded. "Sounds reasonable. I wasn't expecting any bonuses."
Siegfried smirked. "Nor should you. You are the low man in the group. Five others have examined those drawings by the time they reach your desk. Thad Cochran is the lead checker. He has taken the major bonus every quarter except one since he moved into that position. And that was the quarter he was out with an injury."
Siegfried turned his head as if looking toward the top left corner of my desk. "See that red-haired mess about five rows up?"
"I do."
"That's Thad." Seigfried switched comms. "Hey Thad! Turn around and wave to Mr. Jackson!"
The red-haired man turned, giving a toothless smile and a wave. His face was heavily scarred. I pulled my head slightly back out of shock.
"All of you. Back to work!" Siegfried turned his face back toward the camera as Thad and the others returned to their business.
I asked, "Can I take it his
injury was what I just saw?"
"You could, but you'd be wrong. He broke a leg down in one of the mine shafts after a minor cave-in. He came here with that mutilated face. He's a good kid though. Hard worker. Acts like he has something to prove. But you won't find much sympathy from his co-workers. He's taking practically all the bonus money."
I was not enthusiastic about Aarlis Mining after my first full day. Eight-hour shifts were ignored—most employees put in eleven.
The guy who sat at the desk to my right, patted me on the shoulder as we walked out of the office toward the elevator. "It gets easier. Once you find out how little else there is to do around here, you almost welcome the extra work."
"I have my wife and kid out here. I'd like to be spending the extra time with them."
"Danny O'Shays." He held out his hand for a shake.
"Rayford Jackson."
"Well Rayford, it's like this... most of the families who come out here are on the first available shuttle home. And even though those shuttles are mostly empty, the corporation charges a premium. If you want to send them home, which you will, expect to spend at least a month's wage."
"A month? That's robbery."
"That's the corporation. Consider yourself owned by them until your contract is up. I have another three years and I'm out of here. If you're an individual, no family, you can save some decent money, that's if you have the conviction to not spend it at the company stores. Otherwise, you'll probably go home with just about what you came with."
"Why's that?"
"That wife and kid you mentioned... if you want to keep them here, you'll end up spending that estimated 15 percent net you'll be banking on entertainment, which all comes from the company. And I know about the 15 percent because it's the same calculation for us all. It's how they set their salaries.
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