by DRK
George McCleer no longer knew he was George McCleer. He awoke on a cot in a dimly lit room. The ceiling and the floor consisted of hard rock. His hulking, massive grey body strained the cot. He looked around, confused. On another cot nearby an equally groggy, large-sized creature also looked around in bewilderment.
From somewhere loud, blasting, noisy music thumped in the background, thumped, thumped, constantly thumped... And the air was so dirty, dusty. But it didn't seem to bother him or the other newly awakened creature as they breathed in deeply. Hmm. It seemed to him that the dust should be a bit of a nuisance, but it wasn't.
Some robots stood in the middle of the floor, waiting and watching for their return to consciousness. One robot held some gray coverall uniforms with numbers on them. He gave one with the number "317" marked on it to George. He gave the other, "316", to George's companion in confusion.
George mumbled, "What is this place? What am I doing here?" He looked at the uniform in his hands.
"Put on your uniform, No. 317," a green robot instructed.
He obeyed, and he noticed No. 316 put on his own outfit as well.
The green robot announced, "No.316, No. 317, you two have been chosen to be honored with the greatest kind of life possible for people of your low calibre. You will be allowed to serve our glorious leader, Gov. Bright, by working in the fuel ore mines. This is the highest honor one in your position might hope to achieve, and so you are expected to be grateful to his wonderfulness." The robot went on to expound all the greatness of Gov. Bright, and how in the next few days they would realize how much the governor takes care of them, giving them food and worthwhile vocation and purpose of life.
No. 316 listened and nodded. The new miner digested it with a dawning smile. "Okay, that is good, then. Gov. Bright is good, then."
"Is that so? It is an honor, then, is it, to be given this new kind of life?" No. 317 inquired.
"Yes," the green robot affirmed. "In your previous lives, you lacked purpose, meaning, significance. What and who you were no longer matters. It never did matter. At last you can serve humanity and have a reason to exist. Obeying Gov. Bright validates your existence."
"Gov. Bright gives me purpose and meaning," mumbled 316, the effect of the ID Wipe making his blank personality highly susceptible to the robot's suggestions.
"I- I don't understand," George said.
"You will. Some know it right away in the core of their being, others may take a little longer. But you will soon realize how lucky you are," the green robot reassured him. "Okay, look lively now. These here robots will escort you to the training area, where you will be taught the fine art of digging for fuel ore."
316 smiled sheepishly. "Okay, that sounds great. I want to learn how to be the best I can be as a miner, dedicating my efforts to this Gov. Bright, and being useful to my fellow beings."
"Good. Gov. Bright will appreciate that," said the robot.
George/No. 317 didn't feel the enthusiasm that 316 felt, or appeared to feel. No. 317 wondered what was wrong with him. He felt some impulse to accept the words of the robot at face value, and yet, something for some reason held him back. "This just doesn't seem to be right," he told 316, the two keeping pace with the robots that the green robot had told them to follow, who led them down a meandering dirt tunnel. "I just don't know why we should want to serve this governor so much. What is he to us?"
316 gave 317 a dirty look. "What are you saying? You heard the robot. Before, we had a meaningless life. Now, thanks to Gov. Bright, we actually have a reason to live. And he will take care of us, and see that we have all we need!"
"Oh. I wish I could remember this other life I had, that the robot mentioned. I can't. I wonder why. I wonder why I don't feel this dedication to that leader like you do."
"Your loss," No. 316 sneered. "You don't want to fulfill the purpose of your existence by working for this leader? You don't want to feel the joy of serving him? Are you rebelling against that feeling inside us that says Listen and obey the green robot, accept the truths he teaches us. Naturally we don't remember our previous life. It was so empty, we don't want to remember it, No. 317."
"Oh. Maybe that explains it," said No. 317, not convincing himself.
The robots took them to a long horizontal shaft, where several miners awaited them. These miners greeted the newcomers. All of them were grey, but some of them had a reddish glow. This was the training zone.
The brightest glowing miner introduced himself. "I am No. 25. I am one of the oldest miners here. Most of the numbers before me are gone. Those early numbers were fortunate enough to die in the service of Gov. Bright. In time, I hope to share such an honor, as well, and I hope you, too, will learn to desire such an honor."
No. 316 nodded vigorously. "I do, No. 25, I do!"
No. 317 said nothing.
The old miner (who did not look any older than any of the others- he simply glowed more) continued. "We shall be happy to teach you all we know, so that you can share our joy in digging fuel ore for the governor. First, let No. 36 demonstrate the proper way to swing a pickaxe."
Then No. 36 proceeded to swing the pick against the rocky wall like a wild fool. In between each swing he huffed out, "Try to swing in time with the music. Let it get into you. You're sure to dig more ore. The more ore you dig, the more ore dust you get into your system, until you develop a beautiful red glow like mine. If you don't put your heart into your job, the only glow you'll get is from the dust that's always in the air. That kind of glow takes too long to develop, and a miner'd have to be ashamed if that was the best he could get for a glow!"
"How true!" No. 25 agreed heartily. "And no cheating by trying to swallow fuel ore to get more of it inside you for a better glow!"
No. 316 listened attentively. No. 317 tried to pay attention, also, but he kept wondering how and why he got here.
25 said, "You can tell the achievers from the lazies by their glows. We all hope to one day glow from having so much fuel ore dust in us that our bodies can no longer contain all the fuel ore, and we go up in a bright flash and a puff of smoke. What a great future- Saturating ourselves with so much of the dust because we served Gov. Bright so well!"
"Can that really happen?" asked No. 317.
"I hope so," sighed 316 enthusiastically.
Other hardened miners were present, and each had something to teach the two newbies, under the eyes of a few armed human guards passing by on patrol, who decided to stay and watch. The humans wore headsets over their ears.
The experienced miner hands gave directions, demonstrated proper and improper ways to handle equipment, how to load a cart, how to separate the ore from the common rocks, many things that pertained to mining. This education went on for some time.
"Now I hope that you understand and can mine," said No. 25. He held out the pickaxe. "No. 316, would you like to show us what you have learned?"
"Would I!" Excited, No. 316 snatched the pickaxe and started to swing as wildly as 36 had done at the wall, sending sparks flying here and there.
More observing human guards, who had come by to watch, applauded and cheered on No. 316.
"Whoa, whoa, newbie, easy there," laughed No. 25, impressed with No. 316's enthusiasm. "Don't work yourself into a heart attack on your very first day! Heheh, but then again, you know what they say- If your heart's not taching at 250, you're just not trying!"
316 kept pounding away with the instrument. "What do I care if I do get a heart attack? At least my death will have meaning, as well as my life!"
No. 25 nodded approvingly. "Good for you, brother!" Now he held out another pickaxe for George. "No. 317, show us your stuff!"
George/317 paused, not taking the pickaxe, staring at it in No. 25's hand. "We are only numbers. Did we have names at one time?"
"Does it matter? What matters is how much ore you can mine an hour, right?"
Another miner entered and looked over the recruits. "How are they doing?" he asked. "I came by to see our new brothers."
No. 25 shook his head, frustrated and not understanding. "This No. 317 seems to lack devotion, No. 248. That's weird. It is like he has a defect or something. I hope we don't have to dispose of him."
"Is that so, 317?" asked 248.
Uneasy, 317 explained, "I am unable to feel this- this dedication to this leader the green robot told us of. I don't know why. It's not that I don't want to serve and feel good about doing it. I just can't."
25, still holding the pick for No. 317, threw up his hands in defeat. "See what I mean, 248?"
248 chuckled. He took the pickaxe from No. 25 and put it in George's hands. "That's okay, 317, it'll come to you with time. Meanwhile, just do your job, work as hard as you can, and everything will fall into place and all should be fine."
"Okay, I guess I can do that, at least," agreed 317. "I guess I can work very hard for the governor."
"Now you're talking." Pleased, No. 25 smiled.
"I will work with this one. You help No. 316 adjust."
"My pleasure," said No. 25. "Good luck with that one. He seems open to having a right attitude, but, to be honest, there doesn't seem to be a real breakthrough into the joys of his new existence for No. 317, even though he is willing to work hard for the leader. I almost feel sorry for him."
"Let's move down here, No. 317, so that when you practice your swing, you won't get in No. 316's way."
When they were further away from Nos. 25 and 316 and the others, including the watching Security Agent guards, No. 248 whispered, "I know what you are experiencing, No. 317. Truth is, I am not so sure you will develop this almost blind adoration for this Gov. Bright like you are supposed to, but over time you will learn how to fake it to some extent. But if you are really being watched by someone, then the one watching will certainly grasp that you are just faking it. I don't know what accounts for it, but I have never been able to muster up all that much enthusiasm for the governor, either, even if my life depended on it."
"I hope you can teach me, then, how to disguise my lack of enthusiasm, No. 248. Thank you for telling me this. I am glad to see I am not the only one who is defective, unable to love the governor."
248 confessed, "I am not sure that it is we who are the ones who are defective."
Surprise
