Fiction

    I almost missed it. Had I missed it, what follows would never have

occurred. At least not in this universe and I can’t speak for the parallel

ones. It was a regular day home from work, driving home in the bright

afternoon sunshine thoughts of whether to have a martini or beer when I

got there. Big decisions. Traffic was moving. Something right there should

have told me this would be quite an unusual commute. My speedometer

was surprisingly indicating thirty-five as the sign mockingly declared a fifty-

five mile per hour limit as it passed to my right. Then it happened.

    The bright red SUV came up on my rear fast, tail-gaiting and flashing

his lights at me as if that could get me to move right or left on the highway.

Ordinarily, my deliberate failure to alter my driving pattern one iota and

watch him get angrier would satisfy my immediate urge to hurl the majority

of swear words that I knew in his general direction. Satisfied that the driver

was irrelevant to my cocktail preparations, I barely noticed him move right

and pass me. However, when he swerved immediately in front of me, I

became a bit perturbed. Not enough to lay on my horn but a couple of

notches above irritated. The nascent fit of rage almost dissipated, until I

noticed that his arm had come up through the top of his open sunroof.

    Staring me straight in the face was the back of his right hand. Four of his

fingers clenched and only one remained. The middle finger. Unbeknown to

the driver, the finger squeezed an unseen trigger and I went red.

I have grown to appreciate that middle finger. The lad apparently didn’t feel

the need to cut his nails. Way too long for a guy. I wonder often about how

presenting the middle finger, shooting the bird as it were, came to be a

derogatory thing to do to someone. When you stare at it closely, and I do

often now, it’s quite inoffensive in the flesh. Harmless really. But it was

such a great addition to my collection. The arm, severed between the

elbow and wrist, mounted on a metal spike set in a marble base is most

contemplative. Enhancing the piece, the finger positioned exactly as I

remembered it. Preserved in its original position, it sits proud, standing tall

in my reliquary. My only regret is that neither the former owners of the

items in my collection, nor the general public, can enjoy my treasures, my

homage to the consequences of rudeness. I think it will be a martini night.

    Something was wrong. Elom had worked with his partner for more shifts than he could remember but recently things had changed. Elam, who generally was reliable, had become routinely late for shift start. It was one thing to have some fun, everyone was occasionally guilty of overdoing it off shift, but he was crossing the line now. Quotas were quotas and Elom was beginning to resent carrying the load to cover for his partner. Annoyed with himself now, he tossed those thoughts aside, concentrating on the dangerous task before him.

    Air spilled silently from the overhead ventilation ducts. Caught in the current, the flood lights dangling from the tunnel’s support beams gyrated drunkenly. The circulation system did little to clear the ever-present brown dust from the work area. The yellow glimmer of the swinging lights added spiraling, hazy shadows to the various pieces of equipment surrounding the dig area.  

    A small explosion rocked the quietness of the tunnel. Brownish dust mushroomed from the head of the tunnel, momentarily dimming the work site. Elom slowly emerged from the cloud, trying but failing to remove the sweat encrusted grime now coating his massive, leathery shoulders. He plodded over to the equipment area tossing his tools in a bin. He removed his goggles and work helmet, wiping his glistening forehead with the back of his arm.

    The small detonation he had used on the obstruction had done its job. Elom smiled, satisfied with his handiwork. A substantial amount of rock and debris had cascaded from the wall in front of him. He grabbed his pick and began to chop at the larger hunks of debris. He glanced over at Elam, who had finally arrived and was sitting on the edge of the first of the three removal cars.

    “Well, we got the better of that hunk of stone, eh?”  Elom tried his best not to show his irritation. Elam looked unimpressed.

    “What, another bad off-shift?” Elam had seemed extremely moody of late but offered no details about whatever it was bothering him. Worse, it had been affecting his work. Elom was not a complainer, but… “Best get moving, we have quotas to fill!”

    Elam murmured absently, “Yeah, nice job there. I’m just slow getting started.” He walked slowly to the pile of support beams and began to arrange them for installation. He dropped a beam. The clang in the enclosed space muffled his swearing. He glanced over at his co-worker.

    “You know, shift after shift after shift, when does all this ever end? Ever since I have been of age, I have dug. It’s all everyone in our Niche does. Not even the elders remember a time when we didn’t dig!”

    “End? Why would we ever want this to end?  Digging is purpose. And purpose provides happiness. Do you not remember the words of the elders? The elders teach us that our sacred work leads to true happiness. What you’re saying is crazy talk!” 

    Elom was busy shoveling debris into the first removal car, but his co-worker’s nascent blasphemy upset him. He stopped momentarily, removing his protective helmet and wiped his hairless head. He stared angrily at Elam with his large bulbous eyes, “If you aren’t helping, stop blocking progress!” He tossed his load aboard, the debris reverberating loudly against the metal side of the car.

    Elam slowly shuffled away from the rusting cars, retrieving a support beam from a stack on the side of the tunnel. He began preparing it for insertion against the tunnel wall.

    “It just doesn’t make sense is all.” He mumbled low enough so that Elom could pretend he couldn’t hear him. 

    Elom sat on the side of a car eating his mid-shift meal, satisfied with the morning’s progress. Knocking out the blockage and sending nine cars down the line was a good half shift. 

    He laid out the work schematic to plan the rest of the shift’s labors. As he stared at the drawings, a vibration lightly shook the ground in the tunnel around him. Some small bits of dust and debris rained down, disturbed by the mild tremors. Elom felt he could almost tell the passage of shift time from the recurring rumbles. Tunnel Shudders was the name the workers gave them.

    As he finished eating, he ruminated on the teachings of the elders to guide him in his labors. He also sought answers regarding his confused co-worker and his own current irritation with him. What can get into the mind of someone such that he questions the sacred path of all Dregs? Our life of service is blessed, fulfilling. And at the end of shift, when I return to the Niche and my nestlings, it is a beautiful thing. His brain simply could not comprehend how Elam could not see all the happiness around them. 

Ready to return to work, he realized he did not see his partner. Where was Elam?  He hustled over to the work area. He spotted Elam and froze, horrified at what he saw. Elam had erected a crude scaffold with shoring timbers, taken the boring tool and was digging up! 

    “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind? We never dig up! You know it is dangerous and the prime directives forbid it! Get down immediately.”

    “Sorry, Elom, but that’s not going to happen.” 

    “Then I’ll come up there and pull you down! I’ll not let this blasphemy continue!” He soothed his tone, “I can get you help. It’s rare, but not uncommon, for someone to become disoriented doing this sacred duty. The elders can help you; I know they can.” He made to begin climbing.

    “Don’t do it.” 

    Elom let go of the scaffold and looked up. Elam glared down defiantly, exposing explosives draped over his chest. “If you set foot on the scaffold, I will make sure this tunnel becomes our tomb.” 

    Elom halted, completely uncertain about what to do next. From the look in his partner’s eyes, the deadly threat was serious. He backed away from the scaffold as Elam continued drilling with the circular auger.

    Elam shouted down over the noise of the auger and the flying debris. “There has to be something more. We must have a purpose beyond tunnels. Where do they go? What are done with them? I may be completely wrong, but I will get my answer, not the answer clerics want to shove down my throat.”

    “You need help Elam. I can make sure you get some! Please for me and everything we hold sacred, come down.”

    Elam was now deep in the hole he was digging, the dirt cascading down onto the scaffold. Looking above, all Elom could see was the bottom of Elam’s work shoes. Elam had hammered in support timber spikes to assist with his climb. How long had he planned this? I am so stupid not forcing him to come clean about his behavior. A new thought scared him. What will they do to me? I did not report his erratic and tardy actions. They will assume I was a part of this. A sense of panic overwhelmed him.

Punishment for crimes like these are a lifetime of misery. Elom pictured himself in the refuse and tailings pits and shivered. The stench and the skin infections were legendary. My record and loyalty to the sacred teachings and my Niche is well known. He knew that all would be quickly forgotten by clerics seeking to quash and bury such blasphemy. Despite the threat, Elom was now determined to end this. He quickly scaled the growing hill of dirt piling up on the scaffold from the hole being drilled. 

    Ignoring the cascading dirt from above, Elom checked his goggles and safety helmet and began his ascent. Dirt and debris stung as it fell from above. Elom was unable to see how far Elam had ascended. His inability to see Elam discouraged him. He had no idea how great a distance he had to go to catch him. Undaunted, he continued his climb through the dark and the dirtfall from above.

    Elam felt powerful. For once in his life, he was determining his own fate. The raw power of the auger surged through him as feet upon feet of dirt rushed past him into the darkness below. He was making much better progress than he ever imagined he could. But to where? He didn’t care. His decision was not to actually get somewhere, it was the very act itself that was so satisfying. He was so tired of clerics ordering, scaring, determining what Dregs should and shouldn’t do. His celebration was brought to an abrupt halt when the auger broke free, tore at open air and the hole cleared as debris ceased falling. 

    Stunned, Elam had no idea what had just happened. Then, a brightness. Light! He pushed the auger up and it fell to one side. What is this? Securing a final spike, he grabbed the rim of the hole and lifted his head above the lip to get a view of what he had discovered. His breath caught in his chest. What is this place?

    A large rectangular cavern bathed in a multitude of bright lights that weren’t yellow or brown! They were so unlike his regular tunnel lights that they caused him to squint even from afar, a distance of three tunnel lengths away. He climbed from the hole, grabbing onto a metal handrail that seemed to stretch into the distance on both sides of him. He noticed a similar one behind him. But his attention returned to the cavern.

So many people and they were wearing outrageous clothing he had never seen, and many were strolling along a beautiful walkway! Someone had built structures that reached all the way to the top of the enormous cavern! Why do these people have no dirt on them? Some appeared to be eating, some walking about, many going in and out of the buildings. The elders have lied to us! Before Elam could process any more information, someone shouted.

    “Somebody is standing on the maglev track! The express is coming through any minute!” 

    Several heeded the cry and pointed in Elam’s direction. Simultaneously, a crowd on the central walkway began screaming as well. Elam couldn’t decipher what they were saying and became scared and confused. What is this? Why are they yelling and pointing at me? 

    A Tunnel Shudder made his legs tremble. People were still pointing and screaming at him as the Tunnel Shudder increased in intensity. Elam realized that they were pointing to his left. He turned to see what they were screaming at. Never having seen a maglev train before, Elam simply froze at the wonder of it. He stood there transfixed as the train, travelling at just under 600 kilometers per hour, vaporized him into a bloody mist.

    Elom saw the work vest with the explosives hanging from a spike as he ascended the hole. He must not have thought I would follow after this point and abandoned the extra weight. As he was checking out the work vest, the dirtfall suddenly ceased and Elom looked up. Light? What had Elam done and where had he gone? He began whispering a quick prayer that everything could be made right. He continued climbing as a Tunnel Shudder began vibrating the sides of the newly cut hole. Something sucked the air from the tunnel and the light above disappeared momentarily. 

    Something fell from above glancing off Elom’s head and wedging between Elom and the wall where he clung to a spike. With his free hand he grabbed it to see what had fallen. He almost let go. A bloody boot! Elam’s?

    Elom hustled up the makeshift ladder. Reaching the top, he cautiously peaked above the rim. Flashing lights assaulted his eyes making him squint. He caught his breath with what little he could see. The spacious cavern. The unfamiliar people. Something slimy made his hands slide while holding onto the edge. He looked at his hand. Blood! Not seeing Elam, he assumed the worst. He did not know what had occurred, but this was not divine action. To be safe though, he quickly offered a prayer for his safety.

    “There’s another!” Someone spotted Elom and tried to draw others attention to him. 

    “Dregs are not supposed to be up here on this level!” Screamed a woman.

    “Call Security!” screamed another man.

    Elom immediately retreated and began descending. He lowered himself quickly, grabbing the explosives as he went. He was petrified and confused. What had happened to his partner? How did those unusual people know what Dregs were? He had never seen one of them before. And why did the cavern seem so familiar to him? His head was overwhelmed with what he had seen and what he should do now. 

    In the relative safety of the work area, Elom sat stunned. He tried to grasp the reality of everything that had happened since he sat there simply eating mid-shift meal. As his thoughts congealed, he knew he had to try and distance himself if he could. The hole had to be closed. That was easy. He climbed halfway back up the tunnel and hung the explosives that Elam had packed on a protruding spike. He set the timer and hastened back down the ladder. Shortly after getting clear, a muffled explosion shook the work area and debris rained from the hole then quickly ceased. Dust from the explosion clouded into the area. 

    He had to have a story ready. The elders would be seeking retribution for this blasphemy. A plan began forming in his head. Maybe he could still avoid an accusation of collusion in this mess. He needed to set it up where it would be believed that Elam had injured him and committed his crime while he was unconscious. The tunnel began to echo with the wail of emergency sirens. Not much time now he thought. As he continued working on his safety plan, an idea flooded his mind as to why the cavern seemed familiar.

    Halting for a moment, he hurried over to the daily work plan and rolled it open on one of the cars. He couldn’t believe it! Their current work area was a duplicate of what he saw above. His finger traced the cavern on the plan, all that was missing were the people, the structures and all the lights. The alarms wailed in his ears, but he no longer cared. Elam was right all along. There is no sacred calling. We are slaves for others. Dregs simply build the world above!