This is not like the Armory you know from W@RF.
I thought Sligs must have a place where they could spend the money they earn. And what do they like the most?... Weapons, gear, all that stuff.
OK, a new chapter done. I liked writing this one, made up a few new characters to make things more interesting.
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Chapter 4 – Supervised Catering
The factory was springing back to life as the sun rose above the desert in the distance. One could only imagine this phenomenon. The rusted, grey walls of the meat plant haven’t seen clear, undisturbed sunlight since the towering smokestacks started effusing smoke towards the sky. Every day began with a sunrise, which transfered into sunset and finally into darkness. Noon was missing from the daily schedule, rendering a monotonous twilight over the factory.
Nobody bothered about this inside Rupture Farms. The workers, guards and their superiors were separated from the world which was on the other side of the factory walls. Mudokons were always led to their workposts by Sligs. They lost their sense of time over the months of toil in the meat plant. If one of them dared to ask the time from one of the guards, the reply would have been ’beating time’, and the punishment would be carried out accordingly. Because of this, Mudokons could only orientate themselves by the main events of the day: the loud and occasionaly violent wake-up call meant morning, the tasteless muck – which was somehow related to the leftover meat chunks from the grinders, as Sligs always told – in front of them meant noon, and their return to the sleeping quarters meant night.
Between these events, the workers had to be at the workpost they were assigned to. Operating the conveyor belts, grinders, carrying containers – just to name a few. Cleaning counted as an elite position on the worker’s ladder. Mainly because the only places which needed cleaning were those corridors which were used by Executives and their visitors. The Glukkons didn’t bother to use their resources for keeping the working area clean – it wouldn’t bring any profit. But the visitors, who came to the factory to sign contracts, or at least place an order on meat products, were more important. The Executives wanted the visitor’s entrance, the neighbouring corridors and the fifth level to look as convincing as possible. So Mudokons who were assigned to clean these areas were literaly above their unfortunate brothers.
Logger had found his way back to the platform he used the previous day. He quickly descended to level 2, where his post supposed to be, in the Cafeteria. He arrived to a corridor which was in worse condition than any he saw before. Logger halted, his mechanical feet rested on the slightly damp floor. The air was different from what he got used to since he arrived. It was a mixture of steam, the smell of meat and rusted metal. All in all, it wasn’t exactly pleasant, but that was to be expected. The walls were patched with various sheets of metal and decorated with yellowing posters. But as far Logger could see, there were no signs. He didn’t know where the Cafeteria was.
He set off to the right, trying to find someone for directions. Meanwhile, he examined his surroundings in detail. To his right, pipes were coming up from the floor, bending to follow the ceiling and disappearing in the wall to the left. Logger thought this could mean that one of the many production sections was on the other side of the wall, and the boilers were, naturally, underneath. He remembered the Slig called Dealer taking a platform down to the boilers on level B1 the previous day when he arrived. He wondered what could be on the levels between B1 and 2. His first guess would have been more machinery, but then he remembered the Mudokons. They must have had sleeping quarters somewhere, not to mention the Slig’s quarters, other Cafeterias, equipment storages… A factory is not only made of machinery.
As he walked along the corridor, he checked the posters on the walls. Most of them were advertising products, just like the ones on level 4, except that these were not framed and colorful, but stained and yellowing pictures. Logger noticed that the newest posters were depicting a Mudokon next to a floor waxer machine. According to the title, he was the Employee of the Year. Under the picture was the name Freg.
As he walked along the corridor, watching the various posters, he reached a junction where he bumped into a Slig he didn’t notice. They both staggered a little, regaining their balance. Before Logger could apologize, the Slig took a swish with his baton, nearly missing Logger’s head, emphasising his intention with a nasty grunt.
„Sorry, sorry, didn’t notice you, it was an accident!” said Logger, trying to calm the Slig down, while taking a few steps back.
Instead of attacking Logger, the Slig froze for a moment, then lowered his baton, looking at Logger with mild interest. Logger thought of this as a good sign, though he found it strange that the Slig hasn’t even said a word yet.
„Well, yeah… You see, I’m looking for the Cafeteria. I don’t know where…” as he said this, he realised his mistake, remembering what the Slig told him before he went to the Armory. He should at least pretend like he has been at the factory for months. Apparently, the Slig didn’t notice this, since he didn’t show the slightest sign that he understood what Logger just said.
„Anyway, do you know where it is? I need to go there, there’s my guard post.” He hoped that putting in some detail might make things clearer for the Slig. His hopes were too high, though. The Slig scratched his head with the baton, while grunting quietly.
„You know, the place with tables and chairs. Where people eat food.” Logger came close to a mocking tone, miming eating. He was starting to get impatient, which didn’t happen very often. He had met some degenerates in his life, but those Sligs were at least able to use and understand some basic words. But this case beat all of them. It came to his mind that the Slig might have been acting stupid on purpose, making things harder for Logger. Nonetheless, it was rather annoying.
Another Slig appeared behind the baton-wielding one. He looked like he has been in the meat plant for a few years. He was carrying a shotgun, which was enough proof that this Slig had more experience than him. Or more money, it didn’t matter. He seemed to know his way around the place.
He approached the Slig Logger tried to communicate with. „There you are, Dim. You better get back to your post, you know Zero is not forgiving about these things.” He just noticed Logger. „And what’re you doing here?” he asked in an offensive tone.
„I’m sear… heading to the Cafeteria.” Logger tried to avoid the mistake he made earlier. „And who are you two?” he asked from the Slig. „I tried to talk to your friend here, but he’s not very talkative.”
„Big wonder, that. His brain is totally mangled, we don’t know why. No point asking him though, right?” said the Slig, sniggering a bit on his own joke. „He’s not exactly dangerous, more like to himself. He could get lost here, or examine a meat grinder from up close, if you get my drift.”
„I guess I do. Sounds a bit like you’re babysitting him.” These words came out before Logger could realise what he was about to say. He watched how would the other Slig react, thinking of how could he defend himself if the other attacked.
It seemed that the Slig didn’t take it as offense, in fact, he sniggered some more. „Well, it’s not just me, there are a few others at the Cafeteria who don’t mind keeping an eye on him. Some others think Dim – oh, that’s his name – is annoying.”
Logger scratched his neck. „Wonder why would they say that.”
„Go figure.” Said the Slig. „Anyway, he can do his job when there’s some action going on. Of course, we’d rather not give him a gun, so he’s on the ground level of the Cafeteria, watching over the Mudokons when they stuff their faces at noon. If any of them complains or does something… undesirable, the baton Sligs take care of them. If things get real nasty, we take care of it from the catwalks. Simple.” He raised his shotgun. „My name’s Croe.”
„And mine’s Logger. So, shall get back to the Cafeteria?”
„We better do.” Said Croe, turning Dim around and leading him forward. They went down the corridor to the right. At the end, a large hall came into view. „I haven’t seen you around here before.”
„Yeah, they… transfered me here yesterday.” Said Logger.
Croe nodded and remained quiet. They walked towards the hall. Logger now could tell appart the grey tables and benches from the wall. After a while, he asked Croe. „Say, who’s that Zero guy you mentioned earlier?”
„I’d rather explain when we’re up on the catwalks.” Said Croe, lowering his voice while looking around. A security camera was sweeping the corridor from the ceiling. Logger looked at Croe questioningly, but the latter shook his head. They carried on towards the Cafeteria.
„We take this here.” Said Croe when they were about to enter the hall. He pointed towards a platform to the right, built into the wall. Then, he addressed Dim. „OK, you go and take your post. You know, there, near the benches.” He pointed where Dim was supposed to go. The Slig seemed to understand this. He let out a low grunt, and walked inside the Cafeteria.
Croe led Logger on the platform. They ascended to the catwalks, which ran along the four walls of the Cafeteria, a few meters above the ground. A few Sligs were already up there. They greeted the newcomers with nodding. Logger and Croe walked around the hall to the other side, so they could see the entrance they came from. Croe leant on the railing and looked down at the benches. Meanwhile, Logger took a moment to examine the hall.
The tables were almost as long as the width of the hall, and the benches were of the same lenght. They were completely empty, except for stains of grime and Odd only knew what else. He turned to Croe, joining him at the railing. „Say, where’s the food coming from?”
„Food?” asked Croe, looking at Logger. „That’s not exactly the right word in my standards, but I get your point. The kitchen is down underneath us. The Mudokons line up before it and get their portion of muck. After that, they sit down, eat, then they are escorted back to the processing line.”
Logger imagined that treatment for Mudokons couldn’t be any better here than other places. „What do they get to eat exactly?”
„Heh, that’s the local speciality. Meat, scrubbed down from grinder blades, collected in buckets, mixed with some of the expired products and minced into a stew-like substance. Best served when cold.” Said Croe in a lofty voice. When he saw Logger’s bewilderment, he added. „Almost makes you wish you were among them, eh?”
„Almost.” Said Logger sarcastically. „I nearly envy them.” After a few minutes of silence, Logger asked. „And, what do we get to eat?”
„Don’t worry, our meals are better than what the workers get. Naturally.” Added Croe. „Mostly unprocessed meat, cooked or roasted. But sometimes we get some of the meat products too. On special days, like when the big boss is in a good mood or something.” He pointed towards the ceiling with his thumb. „But that’s pretty rare, mind you, so don’t expect too much for lunch. And we get coffee, of course.”
„Yeah, I know that.” Said Logger. „So, what’s so special about that Zero guy?”
„To put it simple, he’s the Head of Security in Rupture Farms. Not technically, of course, a Glukkon called Bernov is the real boss of Sligs. Zero is just his lapdog, but that doesn’t mean he’s not respected among us. He’s like a spokesperson of Bernov, and he takes part of the security tasks. His ego is rather high because of his position. Wearing armor all the time and carrying a special energy weapon… I think he got that from the Vykkers, not sure. And if that was not enough, just think of his name.”
Logger thought about it for a second. „Zero?… I don’t know about you, Croe, but that sounds rather pathetic to me.”
„From a certain point of view. Think of the dozens of Sligs who are all identified by their ID numbers. Zero thinks he's better than all of us, so he puts himself to the first place. But that’s already taken by number 1, so he became Zero, which is before number 1. Tricky, huh?”
„Yeah. Real genius.” Said Logger wearily.
They watched the Cafeteria silently. Minutes were passing slowly, while Logger wondered why did the Cafeteria need guards if it was completely empty that time of the day. The other Sligs must have got used to the boredom, but after the months of training, it was unusual for Logger. Croe passed the time by lighting a cigarette occasionaly, and humming to himself. Logger decided to clean his pistol a bit. He rubbed the stained barrel with his fist, with no particular effect, but at least it helped time to pass faster.
After a while, Croe spoke. „I think the Mudokons are coming.” Logger could now hear dozens of thudding footsteps and quiet conversing from the corridor, occasionally interrupted by a Sliggish cursing and a louder thud. Logger looked around at the other Sligs, trying to find out how they react on the approaching workers. They had their guns at the ready, watching the opening where the Mudokons were about to appear. And they did. A large number of the tall, green-coloured laborers walked into the Cafeteria, aligning in front of the kitchen. They were looking around nervously, some of them eyeing the Sligs on the catwalk, others looking forward, eager to get their meal. The line slowly progressed, and those who got their portion went to the tables and took a seat.
Croe drew a last whiff from his cigarette and threw the stub into the line. It hit a Mudokon in the head, who hissed when the stub burnt his skin. He looked up, but rearranged his expression and pretended like nothing happened. „Amazing. They fear us.” Noted Croe. Logger looked at him, then back at the Mudokon, but didn’t made his opinion audible. He wasn’t a supporter of these laborers, and didn’t object against necessary violence towards them, but humiliation was maybe a bit much.
The Mudokons all sat down to the tables and started eating. Logger saw that the food was just as tasty as he imagined, after he heard Croe’s description. Some Mudokon started eating the disgusting substance, knowing that it’s the only meal they get that day – eat it or leave it. Others were not so pleased with the food, but ate nonetheless.
Suddenly, Logger noticed a heated conversation between two Mudokons in the middle of the Cafeteria. One of them pushed his tin plate aside indignantly, while the other indicated him to shut up and keep eating. The other seemed to reach boiling point. He stood up, grabbed the plate and flung it across the hall. It flew over the heads of the Mudokons who eyed it with their mouth open, following it with their eyes until the plate shattered on the wall, leaving a large splatter of minced meat on it. The Sligs above leant over the railing, trying to see the result of the throw.
Every eye was on the mutinous Mudokon. He looked around cautiously, looking at his brothers. „I had enough!” he shouted. „Why are we…” He broke off when a Slig ran to him, ready to swing his baton. The Mudokon was ready for that move – he grabbed the baton, and pulled it while reversing between the rows of benches. The Slig, who was still holding the baton, lost his balance because of this, and landed on the ground with an audible thud. The Mudokon bent over the Slig and took a massive swing with the baton to the Slig’s head. The Slig didn’t move.
There was silence. The Mudokon stood up and called to everyone generally. „I have enough of the broken promises! We hear them all the time! Edible meals, good workhours! Empty words, all of them! I became Employee of the Year. But was there any difference? No!” he shouted, brandishing the baton. Some Mudokons shook their heads wearily, some looked at eachother, while one on the other end of the Cafeteria called out loudly. „Well said!”
Logger looked repeatedly from the Mudokons at the Sligs, then back at the Mudokons. He nudged Croe. „Shouldn’t we do something? Or the others down there?” he asked.
„Let’s wait some more. This might get interesting.” He said. Logger looked at him questioningly, but Croe nodded reasuringly. Logger turned back to see the Mudokon in the middle. Now he recognised him as Freg, the Mudokon he saw on the posters, who continued speaking to the others. „…we all deserve more for our work than broken promises!”
„You want a promise to come true? Well, I promise you, this will hurt.” Called a voice at the Mudokon. Everyone in the Cafeteria looked around, looking for the source of the sound, but before anyone could spot anything, a bright bolt of energy sped across the hall, striking into the Mudokon. He cried out in pain, dropping the baton, and finally collapsed on the floor. His skin seemed to be a few shades darker, and smoke rose from his whole body.
Logger finally spotted the source of the voice and the killer bolt. At the far end of the catwalk stood an armored Slig, holding a complex weapon in his hands, pointing it at the middle of the hall, where the mutinous Mudokon stood seconds before. He lowered the device. „What do you know? It was painful.” He called at the corpse.
„His Ferociousness, Zero the only, in his full might.” Noted Croe quietly behind Logger.
The Robotic Guard
