Black Skull 11
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66.08.30 04:20
From: The Board
To: You
Dear valued BLOOM employee,
Hey friends!
We know we don't have to keep saying it, but we will keep saying it and that's that you are BLOOM'S most valuable asset. Without your hard work, where would we be? Back in the never-ending cycle of boom and bust that wrought havoc on our economies, nervous systems, and natural environments for so long.
Why boom when you can BLOOM? Why bust when you can win every single day of the year forever and ever and ever?
Thanks for everything, friends.
The Board.
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66.08.30 23:30
From: You
To: The Board
Dear rulers,
The dusty road was wide with machine shops on either side. Fires glowed in their depths. The workers wore hoods and rags round their faces and were covered in dust thrown up by the thousands of tires, wheels and axels running around this place like grey asteroids circling a dead planet.
I followed my arrow to a stack of prefabs with faded yellow ladders crisscrossing their face. My glove got coated in a film of dust as I ran my hand up the guardrail. I could feel it settling into my eyelashes and the fine hairs on my top lip. It was hot and simply climbing the stairs made the sweat prickle out on the backs of my arms. It would be brutal to live here, I thought before knocking on the door and meeting my next interviewee, my next victim.
226.266 came to the door in faded boxer shorts and a full-face mask. A rubber hose noodled down to a filter pack round his waist. His skin was ashy and sick-looking and he stood there, mask cocked at a quizzical angle, aggressively scratching his elbow.
He was a medic who worked nights. I’d woken him up. He sat back on his bunk and rummaged around in the bedclothes as he talked, his voice sounding muffled and grainy through the plastic filter.
Little blue canisters littered the bed, the side table, the floor beside it. His nimble fingers picked them up, shook them by his ear, and tossed them aside in a disgusted motion. There must have been hundreds, thousands. At 500mg apiece, this guy’s habit was insane.
He finally found one, slammed it home, and there was a little hiss of gases escaping. His shoulders lifted and he sat up straight then he let his breath out slow.
With the shit I see every day I need this shit, he said. The broken backs and spilled-out organs. Brains. Do you know what a human body looks like after a 6-car hits it? Meat. Flesh. Where you're not even sure what you're looking at. A face, perfect, torn clean off the skull like a mask. A hand holding a bloody picture of 2 little kids.
I gotta deal with drivers too. Truckers see their fair share of jumpers, but sometimes I get a city fuck out on assignment or kids looking for thrills and they smoke some poor fucker and then I got 2 messes to clean up.
One time I got called out at 5 in the morning New Year's Day. That was fun. Party bus heading back from the mountains hit a couple refugees. A mom and kid coming from some godforsaken place or other. Couldn't tell if she meant to do it or was just unlucky.
And while I was scooping ‘em into bags, some of the kids on the bus start yelling and throwing crap outta the window. It was funny to them. I remember finding this plushie, a ratty-looking pangolin that looked like it'd been dipped in tar. I was gonna show it to the kids, but then I thought what the fuck’s the point? It’s not their fault their parents are assholes.
When it came time for me to scan him and he took off his mask, I couldn’t help but do a double take. He was young and beautiful like Adonis. Wavy hair swept back from a high, clear forehead and his eyes twinkled as he lay back, his mouth turned up ever so slightly in a smile.
Employee 531.448
