Black Skull 15
< << > …
66.09.27 04:20
From: The Board
To: You
Dear valued BLOOM employee,
Hey friends.
Today, we’d like to share some inspiring words from 313.997 who recently became our most successful tree planter in the history of the company, maybe even the whole entire planet! We’ve been so impressed by her performance that we decided to sit down and ask her a few questions. Because, if 313.997 can do it, then by golly we’re darn sure you can too.
From the first stab of my shovel to the very last seedling I lay in its nest, welcoming it back with a few handfuls of Mother and a pat on the bum to get going, I am absolutely 110% locked into my task. Whatever the weather’s doing, rain, snow, sleet, sun, I’ve frigging planted in tornadoes before, each tree, every hole, every single decision I make out there counts. Did I dig that hole just right? Are my distances accurate? Because it all feeds back like a stream, back to the maternal masterpiece which I follow because it’s scientifically proven to be right. It’s not my job to ask questions. Just tell me where you want these trees.
We hope you enjoyed that as much as we did. And also got a lot from it.
Until next time.
Your servants,
The Board.
< << > …
66.09.27 22:54
From: You
To: The Board
Dear wonderful leaders,
277.444 looked like a man who’s been under a lot of strain recently. He sighed heavily as he took off his helmet and sank into a busted chair behind a desk covered with paperwork in the little office at the head of the mine. He told me in a very tired, crackly voice how the deposits were down to a trickle that his machines were too big to capture.
So, now it’s the humans’ turn to fill sacks of rock, each containing a few hundred-thousandths of a coin, and carry them till their backs gave out or winter got them.
But it wasn’t the brutal conditions, the lack of necessary equipment, the barbaric procedures he was forced to perform or the brutal injuries the miners suffered from falls, collapses, and worse; it wasn’t the incredible number of workers he’d seen die.
What he wanted to tell me about, to relay back to “those bastards,” was this – and he reached under his desk and brought out a big jar full of green-yellow liquid with something floating in it that took me a minute to realise what it was.
It's all to do with prions, he told me. Little misfolded proteins which cause anomalies in behaviour. It explained everything. Last week, two miners killed each other with pickaxes. More and more refused to get out of bed. He was seeing at least some symptoms in every single man, woman and child they had digging for them, dying for them, and for what? What’s the point of rewilding the planet if it turns you wild in the process?
When it came time to scan the thing in the jar, I felt him holding on, not letting go of the jar for an extra half-second like it was something he’d somehow grown attached to.
Yours truly,
Employee 531.448
