[15]Taking quick stock of the situation, you notice four large poles on each point of a rather large square. There is metal beneath the boxes, elevated off the concrete. The platform itself has several points of entry on the base, extending halfway through, you would guess. The poles have lines painted with [stack to here]. A pile of crates lies flush with that point.
So, you begin to work. Pallet-jacks drop off more and more of the crates, and you focus on loading them up to that point. You have to clamber atop some of the other boxes to stack them up. The work, while not difficult, begins to take its strain, and by the time the lunch bell whistles, you've worked up a good sweat, your muscles burning with exertion. Your coat sits on a stump of concrete.
[18+1]Overseer John comes back, and you notice a faint look of awe on his face. You've filled the platform up about halfway, all told. The pallet-jacks have been coming too slow for you to continue working at breakneck speed, the backlog has cleared.
"I'm genuinely surprised. Come, I'll show you to the lunchroom and storage lockers. Meals cost [.06 credits], and are taken out of your pay if you decide to eat. An accountant will log you as being present during meal-time. The meals are filling but simple and salty. Drink plenty of water." He explains as you follow along, catching your breath with the slow walk. He brings you into a room filled with tables, centered around a large kitchen. A chef hurries from cook to cook, examining various pots, and directing the staff. The employees themselves dish out their food, filling plates, and rushing to a table.
An accountant notices you, glancing at John, who shakes his head. "Her name is Pheobe, but her meal is free today."
Food, glorious food! Free food, at that.
The meals are indeed simple — a pot of porridge consisting of [grainmeal] and various fruits. There's a gravy with ground chunks of [meat] and vegetables. You heap it over a batch of fried potatoes that drip with oil and salt. You grab a few plates, pile them haphazardly on a tray, and find an empty table.
You devour your meal, the Overseer watching with amusement. He takes a specially marked tray from a heating window and sits down across from you.
"We might have to charge you more if you continue eating like that. Just a warning."
His meal is far from simple. A beautifully trimmed center cut of [meat] loin, with a herby sauce, coupled with shredded potatoes and a heaping amount of vegetables. A small dessert sits on the tray next to him, something that resembles [jello], filled with chunks of fruit and topped with whipped sour cream.
[10]"So, you must work here for a week at the least, before receiving your first paycheck. After that, you will be allowed to draw it out whenever you'd like. If those terms don't work, you will have today's paycheck given to you, but no other. I'm still waiting on a replacement from the capital, so if you don't show up tomorrow, I won't hire you."
You shovel a spoonful of the [grainmeal] and fruit into your mouth and nod.
"Regardless of your plans for tomorrow, I expect you to work four more hours and assist with the Departure." He states bluntly.
You nod, rising to grab a few glasses of water, which you down in a hurry. Just like that, the bell rings out, and the Overseer hurries to finish his meal. You do the same, stacking the dishes up with the rest and heading back to your station. A bunch more pallet jacks arrive, and you're back to work.
[13] After the next four hours, you are breathing hard, leaning against a pillar. Overseer John stands nearby, looking at the platform. He seems disappointed, not in you, no, he pays you no mind. You suspect because the platform is only three-fourths of the way full of crates. But you had to loiter for an hour, unable to do anything else for lack of materials.
A hum begins to fill the air, and you notice a shadow approaching from the west. A large hover-ship, or something much like it, come to a steady stop overhead. A platform is dropped down slowly from the middle of the craft from heavy tethers. It's filled to the line with crates of foodstuffs, bags of grain, and gently thawing iceboxes.
Then the vehicle itself adjusts. And slowly, slowly, it begins to descend, small VTOL engines assisting with minute bursts of blue fire. Tethers drop-down, hovering over the poles of the full platform. They attach and begin to lift it into the sky. When it reaches the bottom of the hover-craft, mechanisms lock the platform into place.
The Overseer makes you back up, and the VTOL engines push out more power, kicking up dust. Then, its primary drivers activate, and it speeds off east-wards, eating through the rising clouds.
[16] Overseer John claps you on the back, and sets off, but not before pointing to a small building in the corner. "Accountant office is over there. You've worked hard enough today. Don't worry about helping with the unloading. I don't want to pay you anymore anyway."
He doesn't say goodnight, instead of helping to direct the flow of goods leaving into the town. You notice employees forming up to buy [grainmeal], [protein], and various [vegetables], speaking with accountants. Prices must be better than going through one of the local farmers, then.
You slip your heavy duster back on and slide your hands into your pockets.
You don't remember who you are.
You are peckish.
Your side aches. Dried blood stains your bandages.
Over Body:
A charred black, brown, armored duster. Torso:
An oversized, stained grey shirt. (hidden)
Lower Body:
Faded blue scratchy, canvas pants.(hidden)
Feet:
Woolen socks(hidden)
Feet:
A pair of leather boots.
Side: A wrapping of bloody bandages.(hidden)
In Belt: A burned knife.
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Topic: McCreary's Planet -- (FINISHED) (Read 259524 times)