Cobalt Slave

by Walker, Jon

  On the edge of the city, just ahead of the processing plant, is the city’s small red light district. It's the last part of the city proper before the trash dump. Mark and his father walk through the district at an early hour, but that doesn’t stop some of the older and more desperate prostitutes from trying to solicit them. “Hey baby, you want a good time?” they hear walking by. “100 dollars or two days' vitamin rations for an hour?” “You here to make your son a man?” “I’ll suck your dick for a day’s worth of cobalt.”

  The pair passes through the area silently, eyes forward, but Mark turns bright red, partly out of embarrassment but mostly out of anger. Almost all of them are defiants, and there is only one option left for them. Before he left, his mother told him that if a well-connected man finds a pretty young thing he wants, he will sometimes even work to have her declared a defiant. That way, he can later offer to "save" her if she will become his personal concubine. When she gets old or boring, she ends up here.

  As they keep walking, the increasingly pungent air signals they are about to reach their destination. After they enter the bureau waiting room, the bored-looking secretary politely confirms their appointment and tells them to take a seat. Mark is a bundle of nerves and excitement. After waiting so long he hardly believes it is about to happen. Looking over at his father, he is amazed how calm he looks. Not matter what is happening, his father has the seemingly magical ability to appear as if he is on the verge of napping. Fortunately for Mark, they aren’t made to wait long.

  After five minutes a genial middle-aged man, donning the same standard brown uniform as everyone else at the facility, emerges from behind the door, exclaiming, “Well, who have we got here?”

  The secretary answers, “Oh, Mr. Snider, it is just a young man looking into placement possibilities. Tim is set to show him around later.”

  John Snider gives her a half smile that is friendly but mildly disapproving. “Tim! Tim is a great foreman, but he could make an orgy sound boring. I’m free right now, how about I show them around?”

  The secretary is about to protest but doesn’t bother when Snider waves away any concern and walks over to shake David's and Mark's hands. “Hello, my name is John Snider. I’m the big boss here, and I understand you are considering an exciting career in the world of sanitation," he says without a hint of irony. "How about I show you around personally?”

  David answers first, “Hi, I’m David Corvus, and this is my son Mark Corvus who will be taking his placement exam in two days. Thank you, but I would hate to have us keep you from more important things. We already have an appointment with someone.”

  “Nonsense,” Snider answers, dismissing David's protests. With a big smile Snider puts a hand on each of their shoulders to lead them outside. “For some reason we have trouble getting good talent, so showing off to future graduates is very important.” The phrasing sounds like a joke to Mark, but his tone is so sincere Mark can’t tell. To be safe he just smiles and takes a deep breath of the slightly fresher office air until he is lead back to the pungent smell outside.

  As Snider shows them around outside, he occasionally exchanges waves with his workers while still talking. His pitch is a bit stumbling but delivered with genuine excitement, “When people think sanitation, they think sewage, but they shouldn’t… Well, they should, since that is a big part of what we do, but there is so much more to it. Keeping the water flowing in every household, processing the sewage, making sure the streets are free of trash -- it's all part of a complex machine that turns all day and night. It requires good management, long-term planning, engineering, and creativity. Outside the departments, we have one of the largest fleets of vehicles on the planet. If you work here, Mark, you can potentially help design our next reservation, survey new lines, work with chemistry in our treatment centers, or serve as an onsite mechanic. We don’t just dump the waste in big holes or pipe it straight into the ocean. Sanitation is about finding a use for things that no else wants. Recycling what we can.” He points to the large smoke stacks, “This whole place is even powered by burning waste. We try to find a use for everything, and every day presents a new challenge. We can make actual shit into something useful. Think about that. Isn’t that amazing if you really think about it? I’m telling you, this is a great place to work if you can get used to the smell. And I promise you won’t notice it after a few weeks.”

  For the next fifteen minutes, Snider takes them around and shows them different pieces of equipment and large tanks, explaining their purpose in excruciating detail. Mark does his best to feign interest with the occasional question while growing increasingly concerned something has gone wrong with the plans for a clandestine meeting. At least from Mr. Snider’s very friendly reaction, he seems to be buying Mark’s act. How anyone could be excited about cleaning up shit is beyond Mark, but this man has some weird passion which he strangely thinks everyone should share.

  Mr. Snider next brings them into a large building to show them the massive incinerators. While walking along he points to an empty office and says, “Here, let’s go some place quieter so you can ask any questions you have about working here.”

  The office is little more than a small, windowless closet. There is one small desk with a few items on it and two chairs. After the three of them enter and the door is shut and locked, Mr. Snider’s entire posture changes. No longer a jolly Santa, he now more closely resembles an alpha dernbeast bull who's gotten a whiff of something that has put him on edge. Before anyone says anything, Snider puts up his hand to quiet them and walks over to the desk to turn on some loud music.

  Placing extra emphasis on the name, Snider says, “Jarod assured me this place is safe to speak openly.”

  David is taken aback for a second, “Oh, Mr. Snider. I thought we…”

  Snider interjects to stop David from stumbling around for the right words, “I’m truly sorry about the subterfuge, but it is necessary to always maintain appearances. As you should be aware, it is our best protection.”

  David quietly nods in agreement.

  Staring at Mark, Snider says, “So this is the boy I’ve been told so much about. This is the young man who is willing to be a hero.” His words are dripping with skepticism as he makes a point to carefully judge every inch of Mark’s physical appearance.

  Still overwhelmed by the rapid turn this afternoon has taken, Mark just stares back, having no idea what to say. He simply says nothing.

  After a second, Snider gives him an approving nod. “At least you haven’t done anything to make me doubt you yet. You are smart enough to stay quiet, and I’m impressed how you could just play along even when things didn’t go as you expected.”

  Snider gives Mark one more look over before continuing, “I want you to know, Mark, that you can still turn back. You can leave now and just live your life. I won’t…" Snider looks to David for a subtle sign of confirmation before correcting himself, “We wouldn’t think any less of you for doing it. If you have any doubt about your ability to do what you are going to be asked to do, it is best you back out now. Once I tell you your part, there is no turning back. It either ends in success or death by one means or another. The only thing I can say before you decide to go forward is that if you do succeed, it will be worth it.”

  Mark looks to his father, and behind the stoic facade, he can see the pride and fear that lurk in his eyes. After taking a deep breath, Mark turns back to Snider and answers, “I’m ready.”

  Snider says nothing and just stares at Mark with narrow eyes, waiting to see if this young man will break under his intense gaze. After five long seconds, Snider simply answers, “Good.” He then slowly slides the heavy wooden desk over. Underneath that spot is a small manhole cover, like dozens they have seen throughout the complex. Snider quickly stomps on the cover twice, waits a second, then stomps another three times. He backs away, and a moment later another man wearing the same basic brown uniform lifts the cover from below and pops his head through the small hole. Quickly the
room fills with the unpleasant aroma of death, decay and sewage. Mark’s face is full of surprise and amazement at the sudden arrival.

  The man in the hole has dark black hair, the grizzled appearance of having worked long hours outdoors, and a very unhappy expression. He looks over at Mark and David but says nothing. All he does is give Snider a knowing nod, which Snider answers in kind. Snider motions for Mark to go down the hole, following their surprise guest. Mark begins to descend the rough ladder rungs built into the walls of the structure when his father steps forward to follow him. Looking up, Mark can see Snider firmly but politely stop his dad from coming any closer.

  David protests softly, “But I thought since he is...”

  Snider places his hand on David’s shoulder and looks him in the eye while speaking in a calm, level voice. “I understand. I have children of my own, but you know secrets are our best tool. What we are about to show him is for his eyes only. It is both for your safety, his safety, the rest of your family’s safety, and our whole organization’s safety that you must remain unaware of the details of his mission. You understand?

  “I… I just,” David struggles to come up with an argument.

  So Sinder quickly interjects again, “Do you trust us? Do you trust your son? Do you believe you have raised him to be smart and make the right choices? Because now is when you need to show it.”

  David doesn’t say anything else to Snider and reluctantly nods in agreement. He then turns to his son and says, “Do what you need to.”

  Snider tells David, “Just wait here and make sure no one comes in the door. We will be back in about an hour.” Snider then proceeds to follow Mark down the ladder.

  With each step down the air gets worse for Mark as the smell becomes nearly overwhelming. The air in the small tube leading down is thick and humid. Finally when he reaches the bottom Mark is able to have a look around.They are in the poorly lit sewer. The rough, dark walls span overhead in a half circle. Mark is standing on a narrow ledge next to the man with dark hair and an old wheelbarrow. Just a few feet below the edge is a river of foulness. Piss, shit, strange bubbles, scraps of litter, rotting leaves, and the occasional small dead animal all flow steadily to Mark’s left for a dozen more meters until it disappears into a grate which presumably leads to the treatment plant. Basically all the waste of Ararat, from the rich and poor alike, passes through this sewer. The combination of the smell, sight and the thought of it forces Mark to summon all his willpower to fight back the urge to vomit while Snider reaches the bottom of the ladder.

  While Mark is half bent over covering his mouth and nose, the man with the dark hair shoves in his face a blindfold and a pair of large headphones attached to an ancient phone. The precious headphones are a mixture of mismatched materials and colors. They have clearly been repaired dozens of times and seem to be on their last legs.

  “Are you serious?” Mark says between attempts to hold back vomit. The look on the man’s face makes it clear to Mark he is deadly serious.

  Snider answers, “I’m afraid it is a necessary precaution, so you don’t know where you are being taken. Please get in the wheelbarrow before putting on the blindfold and headphones. I can at least promise it won’t be too long of a journey.”

  After taking a second to compose himself, Mark obeys. He tries unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position for himself in a wheelbarrow that was obviously not built with this intention in mind before donning the eye mask and headphones, which are blasting a weird, pulsating tone unlike anything he has heard before. It is more noise than music. It seems to be a dozen bad songs all playing at once -- a wall of sound that blocks out everything else.

  As soon as he is settled, Mark feels the back lift and the wheelbarrow being pushed forward. Between the bouquet of terrible smells, the blaring noise in his ears, and the numerous uneven bumps the cart goes over, Mark is completely disoriented and extremely nauseous. Mark would be overwhelmed with curiosity and questions if he wasn’t using every fiber of his being to keep his stomach from turning. He can tell the cart is making a few turns, but he would have a tough time recreating the journey he's on. While crude, their system is effective.

  After about 10 minutes things suddenly improve, which makes Mark extremely grateful since he was close to losing the battle to not throw up. The air feels less humid and the smell has improved significantly. It still smells bad but in a new and interesting way that is at least not overwhelming. It smells like a cross between the stale sweat of an overused exercise facility and a rank, acidic odor Mark can’t identify.

  Mark is momentarily blinded by a bright white light as the eye mask and headphones are quickly ripped off. He blinks his eyes repeatedly, trying to get a sense of where he is. After a few moments he realizes he is in a large, relatively clean chamber with Mr. Snider. On both ends are large, airtight doors and covering the rest of the walls are large shelves stacked with clear boxes. Numerous boxes that appear to be full of... bugs.

  For Mark it is surprisingly anti-climactic. Mark doesn’t know what he was expecting after the months of waiting, the weeks of sneaking around, and a blindfolded trip to a secret chamber, but he was hoping for something cooler than a roomful of bugs. Having grown up on a farm, he doesn’t fear bugs, but he doesn’t like them either. If he wanted to be surrounded by insects, he could have stayed home.

  As Mark flops out of the wheelbarrow he looks over at Mr. Snider who is staring back at him. Snider’s face is a mixture of pride, excitement and expectation. It is clear he is waiting for Mark to make the first move. All Mark can think to say is, “Bugs… All this effort to show me bugs?”

  Mr. Snider smiles at Mark answering, “Yes, but these are no ordinary bugs.”

  Still confused, Mark responds, “You brought me to see special bugs?”

  Slowly scanning the boxes, Mr. Snider selects one box at chest level to pull out to open. It is full of small, black ants busily running around. He reaches his finger in to allow one of these tiny creatures to crawl on his finger. Slowly rotating his hand to keep the small insect upright in front of Mark, Mr. Snider answers, “These are the rarest and most valuable insects on New Eden because these insects are from Earth.”

  Mark eyes go wide with amazement. Animals from Earth can’t live on their own on this planet due to the lack of available cobalt to make vitamin B-12. So creatures from Earth are exclusively in the purview of the Department of Health, yet here in a secret chamber underground are thousands of terrestrial insects. Mark quickly turns to look at the boxes more closely with a newfound interest. With his eyes darting from box to box, he soon starts noticing the differences between these insects and the creatures he is used to. Almost immediately he starts to recognize unique Earth bugs he has seen in old movies. What really blows Mark away is his first look at a butterfly. The paper thin, bright yellow wings look fake, like something out of a cartoon. It is almost impossible for him to believe anything so beautiful and delicate could survive in the wild. After what feels like minutes, Mark asks simply, “How?”

  “The people who built the great slowship had no idea what kind of life they would find on New Eden, so they brought thousands of insects to use as an easy source of protein,” Snider says, licking the small ant off of his palm and eating it to illustrate his point, "or to potentially build whole new ecosystems if necessary. When the colonists found this world teeming with life, the terrestrial bugs were mostly forgotten about by everyone except for a few hobbyists. When Parker instigated his coup to take over the planet, one man with a peculiar taste for eating bugs realized their value and managed to hide away the few lines you see here. Our organization has protected them ever since.”

  Mark continues to stare at the boxes with awe but also confusion. “But what is the point?”

  Mr. Snider motions for Mark to come look at a box full of flies. The bottom of the box is covered in maggots enjoying trays of dark sludge. “Many of these insects eat waste and fecal matter. They help us extract as much B-12 from the s
ewage as we can, but that is only one side benefit.”

  Looking at Mark, Mr. Snider slyly asks, “Do you know why we release floating lanterns on Landing Day?” His tone makes it clear he isn’t expecting the correct answer.

  Not really knowing what to say, Mark responds with the textbook answer but he makes it sound more like a question, “We release the floating lanterns to celebrate our ancestors' safe arrival and to remind us we came from the sky?”

  This gets a big smile from Mr. Snider. “That is why they release them. Why we release them is to spread these guys. For the past hundred years whenever the winds are right, we carefully load a few lanterns with some eggs or pregnant females to spread them all over the planet. Each one of these bugs is a tiny natural cobalt detector. If there is some part of New Eden with enough trace cobalt in the soil for humans to survive unaided, these bugs we have released will find it. All we need to do is find some Earth bugs living in the wild and we know we have found a place where we can be free of the Public Health Department's grip.”

  The idea is so foreign to Mark he has trouble even wrapping his head around it. He simply can’t conceive of life without needing to get rations. Mark answers, his voice unsteady, “I thought that wasn’t possible on New Eden.”

  Mr. Snider nods his head before saying, “That is what they want you to think. That is what they have trained you to think, but that doesn’t make it true. The colonists chose to settle on Prime because it is an island with a great climate. Selecting a place with the right mix of all trace elements in the soil wasn’t a real concern for them. They simply assumed they could bring down whatever they needed from their mine on Abel. That was their great mistake. Parker exploited it to take over, but we believe there are other places on New Eden to explore -- lands that are not as comfortable but have enough natural cobalt to support terrestrial life.”