FollowThis multi-part story is set in the same universe as “The Things We Do For Family
Rick sat in his living room, contemplating the situation. After all that had happened, the mood in Mingo was difficult to gauge. It seemed to be split between those who applauded the executions and others who, like Rick, feared what they might bring. And, if anyone in that second group was sympathizing with management, they kept it to themselves. After what had happened at the main office, nobody was willing to stick their necks out.
One thing that jumped out at him was that the split appeared to be age-based. Those in favor of the Radicals’ agenda tended to be younger. Davy, at 23, was what passed for an elder statesman in that group. Most had never been anywhere but Mingo, which was relatively decent as far as company settlements went. The other side of the split, the ones who were fearful, leaned older and had been with the company much longer. They saw what they had here and now, both with Mingo and the current working conditions, and while it wasn’t a paradise, it was certainly better than the old days when the company didn’t even attempt to keep its employees happy.
There were some people, like Rick, who had been on the receiving end of Wynotech’s less-than-tender mercies when miners called a strike or otherwise bucked company policy. These folks knew the response, which was likely already on the way, would be severe. Most hoped it wouldn’t be a repeat of Harland. That incident had been a PR shitstorm for the company and they hadn’t used tactics that harsh since. But this was a different situation. Company managers had died, lynched by a mob of their own employees. There was no way Corporate would allow that to go unanswered. He figured they’d be lucky if the response only targeted the rioters and agitators but that required circumspection and restraint. If they brought in the Guards, those two things would be in very short supply.
As he sat contemplating all this, his PDC chimed. Picking it up, he found a message bearing the logo of the Radicals. Against his better judgment, he opened it and read:
Richard Quentan, you are hereby summoned to 1 People’s Plaza (formerly the offices of Wynotech Mining [Mingo Settlement]) for a meeting. The purpose of said meeting is to set up a council to govern Mingo Settlement for the betterment of its citizens. Please arrive promptly at 7 pm (Earth Standard Time) and report to the Grand Auditorium.
“Are they fucking serious?” he said.
He only realized he’d said it out loud when Marta responded “Is who serious?” she said. “And, watch your language. Marcine’s awake and she repeats everything you say. Do you want her walking around, spewing obscenities like some common ore hauler?”
Rick smiled. He and Marta desperately hoped Marcine would the one of their children to break the cycle and become something other than a miner. Marta poured all her heart into making that happen. Especially since the twins were already enrolled in the apprenticeship program, making them a lost cause in that respect. He thought about teasing her a bit but decided he’d had enough excitement for one day so he just said, “Yes dear,” and looked at the message again.
“I asked you a question,” she said after a moment’s silence.
He’d gotten engrossed in the message, trying to decide what to do. “Oh yeah,” he said, as her comment broke him out of his reverie. “It’s from the Radicals. I’m ‘invited’,” he said making air quotes, “to a meeting that will, and I quote, ‘introduce Mingo Settlement’s new governing council which will work for the betterment of its citizens.’” He looked up from his display. “Not sure what to say to this.”
Marta huffed. “I’ll tell you what to say. ‘NO’. A flat, hard ‘no’. The last thing we need is for you to get into this any deeper than you already are.”
“Well, that is one way of looking at it,” he said. “But if I go, maybe I can talk some sense into them. Pull them back from the edge before things really go bad.”
She laid the shirt she was repairing in her lap and looked at him as he had a horn growing out of his head. “How much worse can they get?”
“The Guards will be here soon, Marta, and you know it. But maybe, just maybe, if we back off and show a little remorse when they show up, they won’t go as hard on us.”
She shook her head. “You’re living in a fantasy world, old man. You can’t talk sense to extremists. And, you can’t be sorry enough for hard men like the Guards.” She paused for a moment. “But, I know you and I know you have to try. Otherwise, you’ll mope around here tortured that you didn’t do enough to stop it.” Then, “What time is this meeting?”
“7 this evening,” he said.“Time enough for good dinner then.” She got up and headed to the kitchen.
The “Grand Auditorium” was an assembly hall the company used for annual meetings and the rare instances of entertainment and “cultural enlightenment”—aka company propaganda—that the Radicals had renamed. Apparently, they’d gone on a naming spree because a hand-painted sign hung over the Wynotech logo on the front of the building, proclaiming it 1 People’s Plaza as noted in the message he’d received. Seriously, he thought, wasting time with bullshit like this, he thought, as the hammer was about to fall? He shook his head and made his way to the door where a young woman in Radical livery was checking people in, ensuring that they had received an invitation and weren’t company spies. She looked at his phone and nodded him in. He was looking for a seat near the door when Davy spotted him.
“Rick!” she said, grabbing his hand and pumping it. “You made it.”
“Why are you dragging me into this, Davy?” He glared at his friend. “Haven’t I made it clear that I am not on board with this insanity?”
A self-conscious smile played across his friend’s face. “You did. And, I tried to keep you out of it.” Rick raised an eyebrow. “No, I did. Really. But the other members of the council were dead set on bringing you in. Their thinking is that your involvement might bring in some of the moderates.” Still holding Rick’s hand, she said, “Come on, I’ve saved you a seat down in front.”
Rick tried to pull away. “I’m not going down there,” he said. “I’m staying right here where I can get the hell out if I need to.”
Davy shook her head. “It’s not a request, man. They want you down front where everyone can see you.”
Rick stared at her, horrified. “What the fuck have you done to me?”
She hadn’t been kidding. There was a seat reserved for him—with his fucking name on it, no less— right down front. I am so god damned screwed, he thought. Davy pulled the sign off and, with a flourish, motioned for him to sit down. He stared at her for a moment before shaking his head and taking his seat. He guessed her gesture was supposed to lighten the mood, but he couldn’t find anything light about the situation. She took her place beside him as he tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, hoping against hope that he could get out of this disaster without too many people knowing he was there. But that hope was shattered shortly after the first speaker took the stage.
“Welcome, welcome,” said Radyn Jezper, president of the Radicals. “We’re happy to see this wonderful turnout to the very first meeting of the Mingo Council of Commissars.” He looked around, his gaze finally settling on Rick. “And, we’ve got some great leaders present. Rick Quentan is here.” That got a polite round of applause. “Come up here, Rick. I’m sure everyone would love to hear your take on things.” He tried to wave the man off, but Jezper wasn’t having it. “Oh, come on. Everyone’s interested in what you think.” As he shook his head again, Davy nudged him. He glared at her but she didn’t back down.
“You might as well go on. He’s not going to let this go,” she whispered. He almost argued with her but then realized it was futile. None of these demented anarchists could be swayed by something as mundane as reason. “God damn you, Davy,” he muttered. Then, as he got up, “I’ll never forgive you for this.”
He made his way up onto the stage and over to the lectern. “He here is,” Jezper said, grabbing his hand and pumping it. “So good of you to join us, Rick.” Another polite round of applause. “So, what do you think we should do?” Jezper said.
Rick knew his actual thoughts on the matter wouldn’t go over well, so he tried to come up with something that would satisfy the Radicals but not get him shot when the Guards inevitably showed up. “Honestly, I don’t know. I just came to see what you folks had in mind.”
“Okay,” Jezper said. “That’s fair.” His disappointment in Rick’s less-than-full-throated support was evident but he recovered quickly. “I know we can count on you to help us steer the right course once we figure it out, though.”
Rick did not like the sound of that. It made it look like he was on board with their wild agenda. “Hey, I just want to do what’s right for my people. You know?”
“We do,” Jezper chuckled. He shook Rick’s hand again and let him return to his seat. So much for being inconspicuous, he thought as he made his way down the steps. He just hoped that when things inevitably went bad, he’d given himself enough wriggle room that he could avoid a terminal headache.
The rest of the meeting went by in a blur. There was more talk about seizing the means of production and hammering out a deal with Wynotech that would substantially improve the lives of the workers and their families. It sounded good but Rick knew they didn’t have a prayer of negotiating with corporate. Why would the company negotiate when they could just call in their hired muscle and beat everyone down? When he’d arrived, he wouldn’t have it thought possible to have less hope for the future than he already did but these fools had done it. He just hoped that future wouldn’t be as bad as he feared.
“So, how did it go?” asked Marta without looking up from her sewing.
“You know exactly how it went,” Rick said, hanging up his jacket. He dropped into his chair, exhausted. The forced inactivity of the past few days had taken a toll on his endurance. If he wanted to be of any use next time back out on the rocks, he was going to have to get back into shape when all this insanity was over.
“Um hmm,” she said, leaving the “I told you so” as an implication. “But, you tried. Now, when it all goes to hell, at least you’ll know you gave it your best.”
“Yeah,” Rick said dryly. “That’ll be a real comfort when the Guards kick down our door to arrest me.”
She put down the dress she was hemming for Marcine. The girl was growing at an astonishing rate and keeping her in clothes was becoming a full-time job. “What happened?” she asked.
“You’re not going to like it,” he said.
“Oh,” she said, the sarcasm dripping from her words. “I never would have figured that out, Mister Obvious.” She nudged his shoulder. “Now, quit stalling and tell me.”
He smiled and took a deep breath. “Okay, fine,” he began. “When I got there, the bullsh—” he looked around for Marcine, not wanting another scolding from his wife.
“She’s in bed,” Marta said. “Go on.”
“Like I was saying, when I got there, I could see the ridiculous shit they’d been up to. The roof’s about fall in on our heads and these idiots had spent their time renaming shit.” He shook his head. “It did not fill me with confidence in their leadership capabilities.”
“What do you mean, ‘renaming shit’?” she asked.
“Well, I told you they’d changed the street address to the main office building, right?” She nodded. “Well, they’re calling the assembly hall ‘The Grand Auditorium’. And, the members of this council they’ve cooked up? They named it the ‘Council of Commissars’.” He poured himself a drink left and took a big slug. “And, of course, the members are ‘Commissars’.” She rolled her eyes at that. He continued, “I was looking for a seat in the back, near the door, so I could slip out easily, but Davy saw me and drug me right down front.” Marta’s face dropped as Rick said, “They even called me up on stage.”
“What!?” she exclaimed.
“Oh, it gets worse,” he said. “They were filming the whole thing. For posterity” He took another drink. “So now, the guards will have a handy visual reference as to who all was involved when they get here.”
“Oh no,” she said. “Is that it? Did you try and talk them down from this mess?”
He sighed. “Never got the chance.” He drained the mug and set it back on the table. “So, I didn’t accomplish a damn thing except to put myself on the Guards’ radar. All in all, a lovely night.”
“Well, it’s worse than I expected,” she said, “But at least you’re still alive.”
Rick shook his head. “Yeah,” he said. “But for how long?”
