Mining Games

  The crawler seemed very confused. Bethany took over.

  “Listen, I need your help. That’s why we placed that patch on you. How long were you on Earth?”

  “Twenty-seven years.”

  “Great! You’re the man I need.”

  “Something’s wrong. I don’t belong here. Who should I talk to?”

  Before he could stand, Bethany spoke sharply. “Don’t move. Remain absolutely still unless you want to get in trouble.”

  “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

  “Listen, this isn’t the place to feel like a great injustice was done to you. This is a detention facility. They don’t treat people here; they detain. Always remember that. If you attract attention to yourself, they’ll know your wristband is defective, understand?”

  “Why should I trust you? You’re in the nuthouse too.”

  “We don’t belong here either, if you must know,” interrupted Peter.

  “Why are you here then?”

  “None of your damn business. Either you help us or you don’t. It’s up to you. But if you decide not to help, someone might tip off the director about your wristband.”

  The crawler stared without a word. “I should have stopped after one term.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Bethany.

  “What is it you want me to do?”

  “To bring one of those tables over there under those windows and then boost me up. Of course, you’ll need to replace it afterward.” Beth was rubbing her eyes as she spoke.

  “What for?”

  “None of your business,” repeated Peter.

  “Sorry boys and girls, no deal. For all I know you’re two nuts planning to blow up the place. If you want my help you’ll have to tell me what the fuck this is all about.”

  “Why should you care?” she asked the crawler.

  “Oh, just curious.”

  “What a nasty character trait.”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I had been more curious,” he said angrily.

  Both spacers were surprised by this change of mood. Without drugs he was becoming angry, possibly aggressive. It might be best not to argue with him.

  “Okay,” said Bethany without looking up. “We’re both here temporarily and need to access the office to increase our parole odds at the next evaluation.”

  The crawler looked at the observation deck. “Aren’t those hidden cameras going to show everyone what you’re doing?”

  “I’ll just loop the time we’ll be there. Nobody will know.”

  “I take it you’re good with computers.”

  “You could say that.”

  “I need you to access my file.”

  “No problem.” Beth relaxed. The crawler was obviously calm and in control.

  “I need to know how long I’ve been here and why. Who put me here…”

  “The complete story, I get it.”

  “All right. When do you want to do this?”

  “Tomorrow night, around midnight. We’ll come to your room.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “See you then.” Both spacers started to get up.

  “Wait! I have questions.”

  Bethany motioned Peter to go on and watched him drag his feet all the way across the room and into the next.

  “When was the last time you were on Earth?” asked the crawler.

  Beth stared blankly at him. “Maybe you’re here because you’re amnesic.”

  “Just tell me what’s happening on Earth, okay?”

  “Again, don’t know, don’t care. I’ve never been there. And even if I wanted to go, I couldn’t.”

  “You were born in space?”

  “You’ve got very basic programming, don’t you? I’ll tell you what, go to the library and look up history of space colonization. Should tell you all you need to know. Wait till I’m at the other end and then follow me. You can sit next to me and I’ll guide you if you run into problems.”

  “Okay.”

  Beth struggled to her feet and started toward the library. She looked at the clock and knew she would be able to squeeze in a good forty minutes of cybertime. Unfortunately, she hadn’t planned on babysitting a crawler.

  * * *

  The door slid open noiselessly, but Vladimir was wide awake. He was stretched on his bed lost in thought, wondering if the new reality of humanity was going to make him mad.

  He could never return to Earth, ever. According to current laws, Earth was exclusively restricted to unmodified humans. Pure people. Any DNA deviation from the recognized standards was automatically and uniformly punishable by death. It was a global convention ratified by all, and enforced without exception. He would have to spend the rest of his life in exile, living in artificial environments with people who had no notion of what his former existence had been like.

  Even if he did return, life on Earth was now so different that he might go mad anyway. The standard of living was constant on every continent, and world population was maintained within certain limits. These changes had not come about peacefully, to say the least.

  This rich world was protected from those born and raised on the moon, Mars, or space stations spread throughout the solar system. Spacers were modified humans, genetically adapted to their surroundings. They were designed to operate in low gravity, and most of them would be appalled at the notion of living on Earth.

  A community had evolved; an off-world community with its own rules and laws. This community’s autonomy was very dependent on the mother planet, which provided unlimited financial support in exchange for specialized labor. Vladimir had not grasped all the details of the complex relationship between off-worlders and normal people but assumed that the small community of around 75,000 was at the mercy of the billions on Earth.

  “Ready?” whispered Peter as he half entered the small room.

  Vladimir was immediately on his feet and followed the spacers to the cafeteria. They stopped before the first table, a rectangular affair two meters long by one meter wide made of light alloy and plastic.

  “Do you have any tools?” asked Bethany.

  Without saying a word, Vladimir went on all fours and disappeared under the table. The central holding pillar emitted sharp popping noises and detached itself from the tiled floor. Before either spacer could react, Vladimir hoisted the whole thing and carried it toward the observation ward.

  “He broke the bolts!” said Peter while touching the metal studs sticking out from the floor. “I can’t believe it!”

  “What did I tell you about crawlers?” asked Bethany.

  “That was incredible.”

  When they joined Vladimir next to the wall, he was already standing on the table and urging Bethany to climb up. She carefully placed a knee on the structure, and he quickly pulled her next to him. Then, she climbed on his shoulders.

  “Don’t forget my file,” he whispered as he extended his arms and pushed her up to the window. She disappeared inside and all was quiet. Vladimir stared after her and Peter stared at him.

  Minutes dragged on and both men were beginning to worry when she finally reappeared.

  “Everything okay?” Vladimir caught her dangling feet and gently lowered her.

  “Yes, perfect.”

  “How long have I been here and what for?” asked Vladimir while lifting the table and bringing it back.

  “Almost seventeen months. You were confined here because of irreversible cryogenic brain trauma.”

  Vladimir stopped walking and Peter bumped into him. “By whom?”

  “A Doctor McArthur and a Psychiatrist named Burns. Both Space Alloy employees.”

  Vladimir placed the table down and leaned heavily on it. They don’t want to pay me. After all these fucking years spent in that hole, they don’t want to pay me.

  “I’m sorry, but we have to hurry. I placed a small loop on the cameras and we have only a few more minutes before capture resumes.” Bethany placed a hand on Vladimir’s shoulder.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Maybe we can help you.”

  Nodding absentmindedly, Vladimir returned to his room with a robotic walk.

  * * *

  “How can I get out of here?” whispered Vladimir. “Is there anyone I can talk to? Surely they’ll let me out if I can prove I’m not insane.”

  “There was no revision date on your file which means you’re stuck here,” answered Bethany.

  “What about Greg? If I have a chat with him won’t he realize I’m okay?”

  Peter laughed and instantly checked himself. “The McDouglass institute is a family business offering shelter to the mentally disturbed. They don’t treat or examine people here. That’s all done by outside experts. They just set hearing dates based on behavior. You’re the best kind of patient because you’re young, normally drugged out of your mind, and going to be here for the rest of your life. You’re worth a lot of money to McDouglass and Greg’s not about to let you go.”

  “It’s all about the money, isn’t it?”

  “He gets a fixed income per patient. Even if he knew you were okay and didn’t mind letting you go, he couldn’t. You need to be released by qualified medical personnel,” said Bethany while sipping her juice.

  “Can’t you modify my file?”

  “Sorry.”

  “But you modified yours?”

  “Not my file. I changed Greg’s observation of me and Peter. I can’t touch files.”

  “What about escape?”

  Beth looked at Peter for help, but the thin man shook his head. “Maybe you should read on Mars and where we are. Escape is not an easy concept to understand for spacers. Where could we go?”

  Vladimir grunted and chewed his last bite loudly. He left for the library before his companions were half way through their meals.

  “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with him,” said Peter.

  “Yeah, it’s a shame. If he wasn’t a crawler I’d be tempted to help him.”

  “How?”

  “Once we’re out, we could tell the commission about him.”

  “For re-evaluation? Are you crazy?”

  “Just kidding. That poor bastard’s gonna be here forever. I wonder if we did him a favor with the bracelet. You know, when he didn’t know anything, he was happy.”

  “Nah, he wasn’t really alive.”

  “It’s only a matter of time before Greg spots him behaving normally, and then he’s back to being a vegetable. We should be long gone by then.”

  “Poor guy.”

  “Bah, he’s only a crawler,” said Bethany.

  * * *

  Bethany’s dream was interrupted and for a moment she panicked. Something incredibly heavy was pinning her down, covering her mouth and lips, and crushing her upper body.

  “Relax, it’s me,” whispered a voice she recognized.

  She stopped thrashing and the pressure eased. The crawler was in her room, bent over her bed, and holding her down with his thick paws.

  “Be quiet,” he said before letting her go.

  “What do you want?”

  “Your help. Get dressed.”

  “Get out of here, I’m not doing anything for you!”

  The earthman frowned and leaned over her. He savagely grabbed her neck and squeezed hard, his fingers digging into her flesh.

  “Listen, and listen good. I need your help, and you’re going to give it. If you don’t, I’ll snap that chicken neck of yours. Blink twice if you want to cooperate, otherwise just make peace with your maker.”

  Beth had never been threatened this way. There were criminals among spacers—murderers and the usual deviant lot of sickos—but none of them could have instilled in her the absolute fear she was now experiencing. Sweat erupted under her armpits and she shook with fright.

  The earthman’s eyes glowed in the dark, and she understood what life on earth must have been like in medieval times. He was still an animal.

  She blinked twice and he released her.

  “Get dressed.” He stood close while she moved jerkily over her belongings.

  With a hand on her shoulder, he led her to the observation gallery, and she instantly noticed the cafeteria table leaning under the gaping window. Had it already been two weeks since she’d last been in Greg’s office?

  “Up you go,” said the crawler.

  “What for?”

  “No questions. You’re going up, and I’m following. Now go!”

  Bethany was boosted to the ledge and quickly pulled herself inside. By the time she turned around, the crawler had landed next to her. He must have jumped the distance, which was impossible to believe. The office had not changed, and Bethany instinctively went to the couch.

  “I assume you want me to loop the camera?”

  “Good guess. Loop it until now.”

  She turned to face him. “How are we going to get out?”

  “Just do as I say.”

  “If Greg finds out I’ve been here my re-evaluation is going to get postponed.”

  He smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “Re-evaluation delays are the least of your problems.”

  She gulped and did what was necessary. It only took a few seconds.

  “Now, access my file and put it on this.” He dropped an expensive, electronic watch in her lap.

  “That’s going to leave a trace.” She didn’t ask from which patient he had stolen it.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  Again, Bethany only needed a few seconds. “What now?”

  “Get off that thing and go inside the closet.” He retrieved the watch and opened the door for her.

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  She stepped inside and leaned in a corner. The crawler extended a thick arm next to her and retrieved a magnetic key that Bethany knew very well. He used it on his wristband and the heavy thing clanked on the floor.

  “Ahh, that’s better.” He rubbed his forearm’s irritated skin.

  “We’re in huge trouble now,” she said.

  He retrieved his wristband with a smile and dropped it on the couch. He then moved the couch next to the door and sat on it.

  “Whatever you’re up to, it’s not going to work. This is a secure area, the door won’t open.”

  “It’s gonna open soon,” he said with confidence.

  “You think that maintenance drones are stupid? They probably were in your time, but this is the flaw in your plan. It’ll report your escape the instant it sees you, and it’s gonna follow you around. You’ll never be able to get rid of it. Please, be reasonable, you don’t have a chance.”

  He hushed her down with a wave.

  Just play along. He’s toast. Greg would be aware of their activities in a matter of minutes. She could hear the maintenance drone moving along the outside corridor. They would catch him quickly, and this poor fool would spend the rest of his days doped out of his mind. Knowing Greg the way she did, he would probably put wristbands on all his limbs after this little stunt. Oh yeah, this creepy crawler is not going to repeat anything like this anytime soon. That’s for sure.

  As for her, she would plead that she had been forced to go along and truth serums would prove it. She should escape from all this unscathed, more a victim than anything else.

  The door suddenly slid open and the drone rolled in. It was a big, sturdy one, built to operate in all sorts of conditions, even a vacuum.

  The crawler, who was flattening himself against the wall, pushed the couch in the doorframe. The drone instantly detected something behind it, and its main sensors quickly turned to have a look. Before it could complete a single scan, the crawler grabbed it with hands barely reaching around the thick, barrel body, hauled it off the floor, and crossed the room on shaking legs, gathering momentum. The machine would have weighted 200 kilos on Earth but on Mars it was closer to seventy. Its wheels were spinning wildly, and the rising hum of its electric engine sounded panicked.

  It was catapulted from the open
window, tearing out part of the frame as it went, before crashing upside down on the hard, Martian slabs of rocks below. The thunderous sound was bound to wake up most patients, and they would soon stumble from their rooms to investigate.

  The crawler bounded lightly back across the room and jumped over the couch, landing in the middle of the outside corridor. He turned to Bethany, and their eyes locked for a second. He smiled broadly, apparently immensely satisfied with himself, and kicked the couch inside.

  The reinforced door hissed shut and locked itself.

  * * *

  McArthur’s gray hair was matted to the side of his head as he entered Ian Roberts’ office. Out of the gathered conspirators, Martina Summers was the only one not freshly out of bed, and it showed.

  Nell silently offered him coffee as Ian waved him over.

  “Tell me some good news,” said the doctor while nervously accepting the steaming cup.

  All eyes turned to Space Alloy’s president.

  “There’s not much to say, really. I received a priority message from the Martian Institute and notified you all right away. A runaway deviant is not uncommon over there. An investigation is under way.”

  “An investigation?” Doctor McArthur was blinking rapidly. “What the hell happened?”

  “Vladimir Koulikov escaped last night and was still at large when I was notified a few minutes ago.”

  “I know that. How did it happen?”

  “I don’t have all the details, yet, but apparently he coerced another inmate into helping him.”

  “That’s not possible! Not under his prescribed dosage,” blurted McArthur.

  “You can say that again,” continued Ian calmly. “The only good news is that his record describes him as extremely dangerous, and he proved it by roughing up someone during his escape. Authorities are going to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “What authorities?” asked McArthur.

  “Local law enforcement, or whatever the hell they call it down there,” said Emily Burns. “Considering the amount of ‘deviants’ they deal with on Mars, it’s routine procedure for them.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely. They’ll sedate and secure him and bring him back to his cell in no time. Where can he go? Don’t forget, his knowledge is totally outdated and spacers will recognize him on sight for what he is. He has no friends and no money.”

  “Hmm, we can’t be sure of that,” considered Ian. “If he managed to escape, he must know something.”