New System, Who Dis?

Saturday, April 6th, 2069

Despite numerous attempts, my father remained moodily silent for the entire drive. To be fair I didn’t even realize that Jagger Vance had an office. With the silence and disgruntled vibe from my father, I couldn’t help but feel like we were heading to the principal’s or maybe an auditorium presentation on saying no to drugs?

Smegma thankfully filled me in with a bit more of what went on in the Lynx trailer. He couldn’t tell me what Jagger had said to the Miner’s after, because they’d gone further than a hundred meters, though.

At least that confirmed his ‘chain’ was still firmly in place, though.

“From what I could tell, Taz was strong-arming Jagger.”

[You said that already, but like there must have been more to the threat, rightt?]

“Not really. That they wouldn’t hire Portals, Portal’s, Portalz again–and I guess Taz also hinted at stopping other strong Guilds too. Horrible name for a company, just wanted to throw that out there. Is Jagger Vance slow of mind?”

[Wait, Taz, the Taz, threatened to have other Guilds not work with Jagger’s company anymore if he didn’t take more responsibility? Why?]

“No idea. Jagger was originally only willing to take ten percent of the blame. Or that was what they argued about. However, Taz essentially kept saying he was more than half responsible, and at the end of their ‘negotiations’, that Jagger is sixty percent responsible?” Smegma explained, his voice sounding lost, which didn’t help my own confusion.

Was it just about insurances taking a bigger hit? Sixty-percent liable meant that the Miner’s insurance would pay out the majority of the claim? Or was it something else?

“How would I know?” Smegma answered my accidental mental questions. I tuned him out in favor of looking at the approaching warehouse. I could read the sign on the side and knew by its P-cubed logo, along with the rather more obvious, ‘Portals, Portal’s, Portalz’ neon signage, that it was our destination.

Part of me felt sure my father wouldn’t be this upset if the Miner’s insurance was taking a hit. I’d only been on the job for four days, and even I’d already seen the ‘threat’ of consequences when the man got attacked by the slime. While I was sure this incident, which involved the death of Specialist Miner’s and Hunter's, was worse, I still couldn’t believe my father’s sullen silence was due to that alone.

Once parked, we waited for the majority of Miner’s to arrive before joining Willa who was helping the man who’d driven in with Brad that morning out of her car. She had a Ford Ranger, which looked like it was being held together with rust and duct tape. I looked back at the Ford Escort and was shocked to find it holding its own against many of the other Miner’s ‘road worthy vehicles.’

“Is that thing even legal to drive?” Smegma asked, and he zoomed around the truck. I had been about to ask the same question but held my tongue due to the stifling silence that hung over each and every Miner. It was almost like we were attending a funeral—well that made a lot of sense. Friends and coworkers had just died—detective Flair’s reaction earlier and my own inability to feel out the situation for what it was, worried me.

My dad began leading the way into the building and past the reception desk when the sound of slapping bare feet on the tiled floor made me swing my head around. My mother, in the same business outfit from this morning, which was currently looking far more wrinkled and worn than it probably should have after half a day’s work, was running toward me in pantyhose clad bare feet.

I turned in concern as I realized she wasn’t slowing down enough. Thankfully she wasn’t a large woman and when her feet slid on the linoleum, I managed to catch her with a grunt and a forceful exhalation of all the air in my lungs. Before she could get a word in, I said, “Mom, I’m fine. Calm down.”

She squeezed me tight enough that attempting to get my next breath of air became harder than it should have been. Two other arms joined the hug, and from the height, clothes and sandy dust I could see, I knew it was my dad.

Before I knew it my mother and father had separated from me, and my father had smartly taken her into a nearby office before closing the door. I could hear her shouting from inside. About how I had been put in danger, and how she could have lost us both.

Something felt like it was climbing up my throat. Still, even if I had been one of those Mana Banks that was traveling with the Lynx Hunter’s I would have been at risk. Clearly that job was a much higher risk—so I also found a small seed of anger beginning to burn inside of me at the situation.

I wanted to work in Portals. It wasn’t like Miners normally were at risk. This had just been a freak accident—not to mention, we had been some of the first ones out. Standing outside the door of the office, listening to them argue about me and my safety was grating to say the least. Part of me wanted to go in and stop them, but instead I just joined the straggling Miner’s and followed them to where I assumed the Meeting Room would be.

“Ahh, yes that’ll teach them,” Smegma said unhelpfully.

[I’m not in the mood.]

“But why wouldn’t you just tell them how you feel?” Smegma asked, sounding genuine in the question, which shocked me enough that I responded.

[I don’t think my mom is actually as angry as she sounded. She was just worried and needed to vent some of that fear. She would likely be reacting the same way, even if I was in school today and only my dad had been at risk. Even if she was serious about locking me in my room for the rest of my life, she would be doing it out of love. So, it would be a really tough argument to have when emotions are running high. She wouldn’t be able to see me as an adult in that moment. I’m her baby that needs her until she cools off a bit.]

“Okay, Acclaxian,” Smegma said with a clear intonation in his voice, making it sound like he was calling me ‘Freud’ or some other psychologist. Luckily it helped me understand what he was trying to say before he continued. “So, you don’t think that they will decide to stop you from Mining or going anywhere near a Portal after this?”

[That isn’t their decision to make,] I answered as I turned a corner. Two sets of double doors stood open on the right wall, and a straggler that had been three people in front of me was walking through the nearer of the two. I followed him in and immediately looked around for Willa. She was next to the man she’d driven here, but had two spots saved beside her, which I assumed were meant for my father and me.

When I sat down, she gave me a nod and immediately looked for my father, so I explained, “He’s arguing with my mom.”

“Oh, poor Clara,” Willa answered in a whisper while looking back at the doors. “Wish I could help, but I’m sure if my husband knew about this incident, he’d be difficult to talk off his own ledge too.”

“I swear, you humans think too much about others,” Smegma said. “Husk everyone else—and live for yourselves.”

Licking my teeth I considered the dichotomy of those two answers. Was asking my family to continue Mining as selfish as Smegma’s response? My brain chugged along and analyzed that consideration before rejecting it. They weren’t the same thing.

“Any idea what this will be about?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.

“I ain’t husking jinxing it. Let me just say I hope it isn’t what happened last time,” Willa answered cryptically. I looked at her, trying to spark my brain into realizing what had her and my father so expectant and upset. It’s like they’d been through something similar before. Right. They’d said last time that there was a death, that half the company had been laid off…

My father sat down beside me, causing the chair to squeak and me to turn to look at him. His haggard expression changed what I wanted to say. “Everything okay?”

He gave me a chagrined smile. “You know I always side with your mother. Just going to say, good luck ever leaving the house again once you’re home.” I could tell by his tone that he was making light of something that my mother had actually said. “She might even be putting a deadbolt on your bedroom door as we speak.”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. Did I have a headache, or were my thoughts truly at war with each other?

Smegma didn’t help the situation as he excitedly said, “Put your foot down and go on a Slaughter.”

[A what now?] I mentally asked as I tried to understand just what type of bad advice I was getting.

“A Slaughter. You know, a quest. Kill as many monsters and creatures that you can to prove you’re a full fledged Demon.” Smegma sounded a bit fanatical as he exclaimed all of that, and I just let him have his moment—instead choosing to answer my father after too long of a pause.

“It’s been a rough week. Can you at least stop her from making any rash decisions until after my therapy on Monday?”

We met eyes for a long moment, but Gary eventually nodded. Which only really meant; he would try. I knew who wore the pants in my parents’ relationship—and it wasn’t Gary, when my mother got into one of her moods.

“Looks like everyone’s here,” Jagger said from a chair tucked back into the corner of the room. It was so tucked in that until the man spoke, I hadn’t seen him. Jagger wore a sour expression, but whether that was from the talks with Taz earlier or about what he was about to tell us, wasn’t clear. He stood up and made his way to a movable podium that sat at the very center of the room. From my seat, I had to lean one way or the other to see around a poorly placed support beam.

“All remaining Specialists to the front,” Jagger intoned. Everyone looked around the room, but no one stood. By the time I looked back to the front, Jagger was glaring right at me—no not at me—at our group of three.

Husk, that’s right. We’d signed up as Specialists just this morning. Willa and my father weren’t far behind in recalling that fact, because they stood up before I had the courage to get to my feet. Together we made our way to the front of the room under Jagger’s frowning scrutiny.

“As you can all see, we have three Equipment Specialist’s remaining and thirty-six Miners. Normally, that would be close to a good ratio, but since Enchanted Miner’s Picks can break, the ratio needs to be about one Specialist to every five workers. As you can see, we need to hire more Specialists, or we need to start laying people off.”

“Well, that was husking blunt,” Smegma added.

I looked around the room from my place at the front and realized that everyone had already been expecting this. I rubbed the bridge of my nose again. In theory, I could fix this problem by promising to buy a few more people Mining—

My father’s hand on my shoulder drew my attention in his direction. He shook his head slightly, indicating he knew where my thoughts were going. Clearly making this offer publicly wasn’t going to work. Still, that didn’t mean that people couldn’t volunteer to purchase Enchanted gear to keep their job and others, right?

No one stood to make that seemingly simple offer, though. My brow creased as my brain went into overdrive. Surely people would be willing to buy an expensive pick if it meant them plus five others working.

Nobody moved. I even got a few dirty looks from seated Miners. Like I was somehow a problem, instead of a reason five more people would keep a job.

“We’ll do layoffs by seniority,” Jagger said, his voice sounding frustrated but not remorseful. “If anyone has friends who could work as Specialists, let me know. Otherwise, each person laid off will get their job back based on seniority as I hire more Specialists and the ratio improves. I’m heading to my office, work it out amongst yourselves.”

I blinked and Jagger was already exiting through a back door in the meeting room. My eyes stared at the closing door, as I thought, [Is that it? Work it out amongst ourselves? What the husk?]

“What’s wrong with that?” Smegma asked. “Now you can fight each other to the death to see who really wants it.”

[That second part wasn’t exactly needed. Surely, you’ve realized that isn’t how human society works.]

“You think so, huh?” Smegma said and I glanced at his hovering form without turning my head. The room was deathly silent other than the Demon’s voice, which only I could hear. Smegma caught my look and elaborated. “You think Taz cared about the deaths in the Dungeon? He only cared about coming out on top over P-cubed in negotiations. People with power, don’t give a husk about people that aren’t stronger than them. That’s the simple truth of the powerful, kid.”

I looked around the room at a group of people that could all solve the problem laid out before them pretty simply. All they needed to do was form groups of six, pool money and buy one Specialty Pick between them. Then they could all work—instead…

“I’ve got a baby on the way, I can’t afford to lose this job right now,” the man who had come in with Brad cried—his face somehow so pale it looked almost blue.

That started the floodgates as many others proclaimed why they couldn’t lose their jobs. The hierarchy of the group was on clear display as fifteen people stood up and walked to the front of the room through the midst of these cries. Fat Gary and Dave were amongst this group.

These fifteen didn’t say a word, which only made the situation worse, as the pleas amplified in volume and severity. One man was going to lose his house if he didn’t keep up with a payment plan. Another was fighting for custody of his children. The only other woman in the room claimed she had just put down first and last month’s rent on an apartment, and this would ruin her. It was tough to judge the severity of each claim against another.

I turned to my father and whispered, “Why can’t they just form groups of six—”

My father shook his head violently to cut me off, but it was too late. “Gary, surely your kid doesn’t need to be here! Just give one of us his Pick—we’ll pay you back with the first bonus.”

“It will only break faster with him using it!” the man who lost Brad shouted. “He’s only supposed to be a temp, right?”

The suggestions as to why I didn’t need to keep my ‘job’ and my Miner’s Pick only degraded from there, and I recognized that opening my mouth had been a bad choice. My father slammed a hand down onto the podium which caused a loud boom and shut everyone up.

“It looks like this is the division,” he said into that silence. “Remember, if you know anyone who wants to be a Specialist go talk to Jagger. I’ll go let him know who’s staying.”

My father took my shoulder and steered me to the door Jagger left through in a hurry. Shouting broke out in our wake. Once we made it through the door he said, “It’s up to them, Brodie. As you can see, everyone has their own circumstances. Maybe there is a group of six close enough to trust each other, but I doubt it.”

“How long will they be out of work?” I asked, my voice catching in my dry throat.

“Last time, it took six months to get everyone back.”

“Can’t they just join another crew?” I asked, hoping he would give me a more positive answer than the last.

“If they want to risk their lives, sure,” was all he said.

Did he mean that despite what happened today, P-cubed had better safety precautions for their workers?

“That sounds like exactly what he’s saying,” Smegma said from somewhere behind me.