by Ben Wolf
Justin turned to the desks. Atop one of them, a smaller screen displayed a request for an access code in order to obtain his identification card. The screen on the other desk was blank, and a card slot under it was exposed under an open panel. His assigned roommate must’ve already retrieved his and left.
Justin tapped in his access code and tapped “Enter,” but nothing happened. He waited, but the screen didn’t respond.
He tried again, but the screen still didn’t accept it.
Justin dug out his wallet and extracted a piece of paper on which he’d scribbled the code and checked it. He entered each letter, number, and symbol perfectly, in all caps and lowercase, and none of it worked.
He muttered curses under his breath and smacked the side of the screen in frustration.
It beeped, and then the screen rose up, and a matching panel to that of the other screen lowered. A transparent card extended out of the slot under the screen, and Justin took it.
Glitchy on day one? Not a good look, ACM.
A picture of him anchored the lower left corner of the card, and letters detailing his name, job title, and the location of the mine filled the top left. A network of electric-blue circuits spiderwebbed out from the right side of the card but stopped short of his picture and the text.
Someone knocked behind him. “Yo.”
Justin turned and found Keontae there. “Hey.”
“These rooms are microscopic, bro.”
“Tell me about it. Half the size of what we had back at Farcoast Mining.”
“No doubt. But for 50% more pay plus not havin’ to deal with Eric, Judy, and those other idiots in management, I can make this work.” Keontae tossed his bags on the top bunk then headed for the closet. “This the bathroom?”
“Nope. Closet.”
Keontae opened the door. “You’re kidding me. We don’t have a private bathroom?”
Justin shook his head. “Doesn’t look that way.”
“I saw a couple that did when I was comin’ over here.”
“Ours doesn’t. Maybe those are for workers with seniority.”
“Nobody here’s got seniority. The mine just reopened, remember?”
“Admins, maybe?”
Keontae shook his head. “Nope. They got their own dorms. Supposed to be nicer than this, too. Overheard some of the other guys talkin’ while I was gettin’ my ID badge.”
“Whatever the case, we don’t have a bathroom in here. If there’s one in our corridor, I don’t know where it is.”
Keontae waved him over. “Let’s go look.”
They headed into the corridor, looked right, left, and then at each other. They headed to the right, deeper into the corridor. After passing five rooms, they found a pair of sliding doors on the left side marked with the words “Bathroom and Showers” but no gender distinction.
Justin turned to a guy passing them in the hallway. “Excuse me. Is this for men or women?”
The guy shrugged and kept walking.
Justin looked at Keontae, who held up his hand. “Don’t worry, JB. I’ll boldly go where you’ve never gone before.”
Keontae stepped toward the doors, and they slid open before Justin could respond. They both went inside.
White-and-blue tiles checkered the floor and the walls. A bank of sinks ran along the back wall, which was essentially just a big mirror. A dozen urinals lined the wall to the right, followed by a half-dozen blue stalls.
An enclosed room, except for a rectangular opening cut out of the tile with no door, filled almost the entire left half of the bathroom. Keontae stepped into it, and the domes on the ceilings illuminated the room.
Blue light glinted off of the dozen four-nozzle shower implements mounted to the walls around the room, and smaller white-and-blue tiles covered the room’s floor and walls. A silver drain casing in the center of the floor gleamed with blue light as well.
“Community showers?” Justin gawked.
Keontae shook his head. “Man, this is some prison shit. No privacy?”
“No gender separation either.”
“That ain’t as nice as you think. Women can be messy and gross.”
“That’s not—I didn’t mean—”
Keontae laughed and swatted Justin’s shoulder. “I’m just messin’ with you, bro.”
Justin scowled at him.
“I wouldn’t get too excited, though, for real. The few women I’ve seen around here might as well be of the bovine variety, if you know what I mean.”
Justin raised an eyebrow. “Not all of them.”
“Right, so you got one worth lookin’ at. One. And that’s if you time it right. Lots of people gotta use this bathroom, JB. Good luck.”
“That is not what I meant.”
Keontae laughed again. “You gotta stop bein’ so serious. You know I’m playin’. Now let’s get outta here before you have a conniption about it.”
They passed a few guys and one woman on their way back to their room, and Justin had to agree with Keontae’s assessment—he didn’t want to see her in a shower any time soon.
“I’m going to unpack,” Justin said as they walked into their room.
“How ‘bout we move some furniture around first? We can stack the dressers, at least. Put ‘em back against the end of the beds?”
“Good idea.”
As they began to heft the first of the dressers, a flash of blonde hair passed by their room. Justin focused on the doorway.
“You can put your end down now, JB.”
He looked at Keontae. “Oh. Sure.”
He set it down and looked out at the door again, but she wasn’t there.
Keontae and Justin hefted the other dresser on top of the first one and straightened it so they lined up. For as “lightweight and durable” as Plastrex manufacturers claimed their products were, the dressers still weighed as much as old-fashioned wooden ones.
“Good. Now we can move one of the desks to where the dressers were, and we can reclaim a little more space in here,” Keontae said.
Gold shined in the corner of Justin’s eye. He looked out his door again.
Shannon walked into the room on the opposite side of the hall from theirs, towing her bags behind her. Once she got them inside, she turned around and made eye contact with him.
4
Shannon’s jaw tightened, her eyebrows lowered, and then she waved her sliding door shut.
Her room was directly across from Justin’s.
“JB?” Keontae said from behind him. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
Justin shook his head. “Not a ghost. A girl.”
“Ah.” Keontae smiled. “Your girlfriend rooming nearby?”
“Right across the hall.”
“For real?” Keontae nudged him. “Lucky you.”
Yeah. Maybe. “You still want to move the desks?”
Keontae nodded. “Let’s do it.”
It didn’t take Justin and Keontae long to rearrange and then unpack what little they’d brought with them. They each hung up a few of their work shirts and pants in the closet and stashed their regular clothes in the dressers.
Keontae pulled a small Plastrex box out of one of his bags and set it on the desk.
“What’s that?”
“Gimme a sec.” Keontae pressed a tab, and the top of the box opened. He removed a small, orange clay pot and set it on the table, then he set a second pot next to that one.
Justin scoffed. “Weed?”
Keontae eyed him. “Please. I’m not about to lose the best job I ever had by growin’ weed in my dorm. No sunlight gets in here anyway.”
“Then what are they?”
Keontae pulled clear films off the tops of the pots. “They’re Nebrandt plants. They take about three years to blossom, but when they do, they’re the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. My mom used to grow ‘em back on my home planet in the Bortundi System.”
“You really think we’ll be here a few years?”
&nbs
p; “She transplanted these and mailed ‘em to me right before we left New Germania-7. She said these have been in the ground for almost three years, so they’re gonna sprout and bloom pretty soon, here. And you, my lucky friend, will get to see ‘em in all their glory without having to do any of the work.”
Justin furrowed his brow. “Great. I guess.”
“Trust me, bro. You’re gonna like this. Besides, it’s a reminder of my mom.”
“If you say so.” Justin really didn’t care, but if it was important to Keontae, he wouldn’t fuss about it. “I just wouldn’t advertise that to the ladies. Not very manly to be raising a miniature garden in your room.”
Keontae huffed. “This comin’ from the Galactic Gawking Champion. You don’t know the first thing about getting women. So far, all you’ve done is stare at the one you like.”
Justin winced at first, but he recalled how he’d tried to stand up for Shannon on the hovercraft. Then he recalled how Shannon had reacted to his rescue attempt, and his hope faded.
“Speechless, huh?” Keontae smacked his shoulder.
Justin scowled at him. “Just thinking. You know I like to talk.”
“Don’t I know it. That’s what I’m afraid of, JB. Your mouth got you in trouble at the last job, and we had to leave. I don’t want a repeat of that here.”
“We’ll be fine.” A vision of Dirk flashed into Justin’s mind. Keontae had a point. “Probably.”
“We’d better be.” Keontae rubbed his stomach. “You hungry?”
Justin nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t eaten since that processed salmon I threw up before we landed.”
“Ooh. Don’t remind me.” Keontae’s nose wrinkled. “I can still smell it, even now.”
“Well, I didn’t wash that shirt yet. It’s crumpled into a ball in the corner over there.” Justin tilted his head.
“Bro, at this point, throw that shirt out. I don’t wanna smell it all night. You can get a new one with your first paycheck.”
“I have a better idea.” Justin smirked.
“Aw, no. No, no, no.” Keontae pointed at him. “You got that look in your eye. Last time you had that look, we almost got kicked off the job site.”
“This time it’s harmless.” Justin grinned. “Mostly.”
“You know I’m always up for a prank, but we just got here, JB.” Keontae folded his arms, sighed, and a smirk of his own curled the corners of his lips. “What do you have in mind?”
Justin smiled. “Something to get Dirk and his buddies back.”
Keontae blinked. “Who’s Dirk?”
“Dirk. You know…?”
Keontae just stared at him.
“Oh. You weren’t awake for that part. The big guy. His name is Dirk Hammer.”
“You’re kidding me.” Keontae’s voice went flat. “Biggest dude in the whole mine’s last name is ‘Hammer?’”
“Exactly what I thought.”
“He looks the part. That’s for damned sure.” Keontae frowned. “But I’m not prankin’ him. He already hates us. You in particular.”
“This is harmless. I swear.”
“What do you wanna do?”
“I just want to hang my shirt in front of his door. Then, when he walks out, he’ll walk into that processed salmon smell.”
“Bro, I know you’re younger than me, but you gotta be more of a grown-up than that.” Keontae shook his head. “No. No way. He’s gonna know it’s you, and he’s gonna come for both of us.”
Justin frowned. “C’mon. It’ll be funny.”
Keontae shook his head. “I don’t wanna make an enemy of the biggest dude in the mine on day one.”
“You don’t think you could take him?”
Keontae raised his left eyebrow. “A man that big, it’d be close.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
“His five friends. If you gotta fight six people at once, then fight like hell, but if you don’t gotta fight ‘em, then don’t. If a dude will fight you one-on-one, that’s one thing, but if all of ‘em gang up on you, run away. Just run, bro. It ain’t like the movies.” Keontae exhaled a long breath and stared at the floor. “Not like the movies at all.”
A long, silent moment lingered between them. Keontae had endured some intense shit in his younger days, but he almost never said anything about it. From what Justin had gleaned, though, it wasn’t anything good.
Justin started. “So—”
“So we’re not doin’ it. I don’t wanna bury us any deeper than we already are with those assholes.”
Justin sighed. “Fine. You still want to get dinner?”
“Hell yes, I still want dinner.”
Justin had caught a glimpse of Dirk going into one of the rooms in their corridor and made a mental note of its location.
And that was the problem—it was right at the beginning of the same corridor that held Keontae’s and Justin’s room. That meant he had to walk past it every day at least twice—once on his way to work, and once on his way back. Probably several more times counting meals in the cafeteria. And Dirk would walk past their room to and from the bathroom or the laundry.
So much for never seeing him after today.
Justin shook his concerns off as he headed to the cafeteria with Keontae. He reassured himself that Dirk didn’t have a good reason to hold a grudge. And if he were holding one anyway, well, Justin would just avoid him until it blew over.
Aromas of seared beef, chicken stir-fry, baked potatoes, grilled vegetables, fresh bread, and more sent rumbles through Justin’s stomach. Real food, not the processed junk he’d subsisted on for the last ten days between New Germania-7 and here. He filled his plate with some of everything.
At one point, one of the kitchen androids came out with a fresh tray of bright yellow corn and swapped it out for a mostly empty one, then it turned and retreated back into the kitchen as quickly as it had emerged.
Red lights emanated from the androids’ chests, wrists, and ankles, and their vacant eyes glowed red. It gave them a menacing look, and Justin wondered why their designers had opted for that color.
As the buffet line progressed, Justin got a look inside the kitchen. One android loaded dishes into a dishwasher, and another stirred something in a large Plastrex bowl, both totally focused on their tasks.
But the third, the one with a small dent above its left eye, had stopped. It just stared at Justin, its empty red eyes unblinking. The knife in its hand hovered just above a cutting board covered with peppers, unmoving.
The knife’s tip was pointed at Justin.
Weird, to say the least.
When Justin tried to pay for his meal, he realized there weren’t any kiosks or workers to take his payment.
“It’s included in our pay,” Keontae said. “Didn’t you read your employment contract?”
Justin nodded. “Yeah, but I thought they were lying about it. Farcoast found ways to charge us for stuff that was ‘included’ even though they said they wouldn’t.”
“This place is legit. Told you it was a great gig. They even got metal silverware.”
“See those guys over there?” Justin nodded toward a pair of muscled guys wearing black clothes and tactical boots. Utility belts loaded with gadgets wrapped around their waists. “Security?”
“Must be.”
“Why?”
Keontae shrugged. “This many people in one place? They probably just wanna make sure no one gets bogus.”
Justin looked around for Shannon. He didn’t see her anywhere, so he went to an open spot at one of the Plastrex tables in the middle of the group and set his tray down. Keontae followed suit. They ate alone amid the low roar from the rest of the workers for awhile, but eventually their table filled up with other miners, most of them men.
A pair of butch-type women set their trays down across from them. One of them, with red hair so bright that it had to be a genetic enhancement, introduced herself as Connie and her dark-haired friend as Candy. Both women carried extra wei
ght, but whereas Connie’s hung from her midsection, Candy’s had bulked around her shoulders, chest, and arms.
“You guys been in mining long?” Connie’s voice rasped as if she’d been gargling acid and nails for half of her middle-aged life.
“Going on five years,” Justin said between bites of chicken stir-fry. “Plus two in my apprenticeship.”
Keontae nodded. “Same.”
“What about you ladies?” Justin asked.
Connie laughed, but it sounded more like gears grinding in her throat. “You hear that, Candy? He called us ‘ladies.’ You’re a cute one.”
Candy nodded but didn’t say anything. She just took another bite of her all-meat meal.
Justin glanced at Keontae, but he just grinned.
“Don’t worry ‘bout Candy, here. She don’t talk much. She’s a looker, though.” Connie gave Justin a wink. “Candy here’s been at it for just over ten. I’ve been at it for damn-near fifteen, now. Got every certification under the sun—don’t matter what color the sun is. They even asked me if I wanted to apply for foreman, but I didn’t want the added stress, so I said no.”
“I heard that.” Keontae poked at his baked potato, which he’d loaded with sour cream, cheese, and bacon bits. “I’m not tryin’ to reach foreman either. Certifications, sure, but I don’t need the extra headaches, like you said.”
With seven more years of experience, Keontae had earned nearly twice as many certifications as Justin had.
“I wouldn’t mind hitting foreman someday. It looks like a challenge,” Justin said.
Keontae scoffed. “You’d better get over your fear of heights first.”
Justin glared at him. “That’s not—”
“The hell it isn’t. Foreman’s gotta oversee everybody. That includes workers expanding the mine. Sometimes you gotta get on a lift or a ladder and chew people out if they’re not doin’ their jobs right.”
“Yeah, well, foremen can delegate too. They have to. Problem solved.”
“Or you could just get over your fear of heights.” Keontae shoveled a heap of loaded mashed potatoes into his mouth, and Connie’s laugh grinded from her throat again.