The Worker Prince

by Bryan Thomas Schmidt

  The history books overflowed with stories about the laziness of the troublemaking workers, but Davi knew enough to suspect at least some of it was propaganda. He refused to form an opinion about them yet.

  Desiring him to think for himself rather than simply conforming to society’s views, Miri had arranged special tutors to expose her son to the writings of classic philosophers from Old Earth like Holmes, Locke, and John Stuart Mill. He’d read Martin Luther and Erasmus and many others. From these books, he’d come to believe in the inherent dignity of man and man’s right to free will and self-determination. While he also believed in the superiority of the Borali Alliance—the greatest society in the history of humankind—his exposure to life on Vertullis had him wrestling all over again with issues he’d debated over and over in his youth.

  It wasn’t like he had anything personal at stake. He’d never known any workers, but they seemed as human as he was. According to his professors, their continual failure to defend themselves reflected on their validity and equality as men. Still, he found himself wondering how they’d come to lose the freedom he believed all men deserved.

  As they passed a clearing, he took in rows of workers assembled beside a barn to watch as soldiers administered punishment to another worker. The guilty man had been strapped to some sort of electrical wires which disappeared into the barn. The soldier questioning him shocked him every time he gave a dissatisfactory answer. Davi flinched, averting his gaze as his eyebrows lowered and pinched together. It disturbed him to see such a thing out in the open.

  Zylo’s hand on his shoulder drew Davi’s focus away from the scene he’d been watching. “Sometimes we have to make examples of them so the others will learn.”

  “What could he have done to deserve that?” Davi wondered aloud, trying to conceal his horror.

  “He was born a worker. They may be human but, trust me, they are not as evolved as our people. No sense of responsibility. They need to be motivated,” Zylo said. Conviction dripped from him like sweat.

  A group of soldiers leaned against the barn and laughed as they watched. To Davi, it seemed less about serious discipline and more about entertaining the soldiers at the workers’ expense, but having heard Zylo’s acceptance of it, he held his tongue.

  “You know the history, of course. The Vertullians have long been the enemies of our people. Inferior thinkers—they have only one god, no respect for power, no ambition. The work gives their lives meaning. Left alone they’d all be aimless with no real purpose or direction,” Zylo said. It was the standard justification historians and pundits used for the Boralian’s treatment of their ancient enemies.

  Davi stared out the window as the shuttle flew past the clearing and into a small city called Araial, landing near the small downtown.

  “I thought you’d like to see more than the agricultural areas,” Zylo said as they stepped out onto the tarmac. “Workers are also employed in factories and maintenance in most of the cities.”

  The first thing Davi noticed was that the air here seemed lighter, clean and refreshing, unlike in Iraja itself or in Legon where he’d grown up. Only the hiss of the wind blowing through the trees pierced the calm around him—a silence like he’d never experienced before.

  They walked along between a row of buildings with eight or nine stories, instead of the minimum fifteen or twenty found in Iraja or on Legallis.

  “Araial has a population around one hundred fifty thousand. It’s small, but nice as outer cities go,” Zylo said.

  Davi followed Zylo around a corner and saw two soldiers with a worker backed against a wall between two buildings.

  “For almost a week now you’ve failed to meet your quota,” the taller soldier said.

  “I try, sir, I do. The new quotas are impossible,” the worker pleaded, his voice shaking, his face filled with fear.

  “The Alliance sets the quotas, not the workers,” said the shorter soldier with a cocky grin.

  “Your job is to meet them,” the taller soldier added.

  Davi watched the worker’s eyes. He didn’t appear to be making excuses. Instead, he appeared to be struggling to remain upright.

  The shorter soldier poked him hard in the chest. “Did you think you could stop doing your work and keep making us look bad without any consequences?”

  The worker shook his head, confused. “No, I—”

  “Maybe we need to teach you a lesson.” The taller soldier rolled his eyes as both soldiers grinned.

  “No, please. I’ll work harder,” the worker said, backing away.

  The taller soldier took a club from his belt and started banging it on the wall, inches from the worker’s head. Wood splintered under the impact as nearby windowpanes rattled. The worker trembled in fear.

  “You’ve said the same thing every day this week!” the taller soldier responded as he swung the club again and again.

  Davi tensed, his nostrils flaring as he started toward them, preparing to interfere.

  Zylo grabbed his arm. “Let them handle this!”

  Davi was shocked. “They’re going to beat him!”

  “He probably deserves it,” Zylo said, unconcerned. “We get nothing but trouble from these workers.”

  “Nothing justifies cruel abuse of another human being,” Davi snapped, yanking his arm free.

  “These workers don’t qualify for the term ‘human,’” Zylo said with growing irritation. “You might want to know the situation before you decide to interfere with our soldiers doing their duty.”

  “Their duty is to make sure the workers stay on task, meet their quotas—”

  “Their duty is to do whatever it takes to maintain the workers’ production levels and focus,” Zylo’s cheeks reddened as he shot Davi a reproaching look. “Maybe someone who’s been on the planet only a couple of weeks should observe first before rushing in. Lord Xalivar’s order authorized whatever’s necessary to keep the workers in line. The Prince of all people should know these policies come from the top.”

  Davi did know but he’d never imagined anything like what he was seeing. “He didn’t mean this,” he said, matching Zylo’s accusing stare. He hadn’t known about this specific order. Could his uncle have authorized such barbaric means? He wanted to respect his uncle, yet what he had seen conflicted with what he knew in his soul to be right and just.

  “Come on. There are other things I wanted to show you.” Zylo grabbed Davi’s arm and led him on past the soldiers across a well-groomed lawn. Soft grass bent with each step, cushioning his feet. Davi ignored the hand on his arm, realizing that here he was just another officer, not a Royal whom touching casually was forbidden by law. Clearly, he had a lot to get used to.

  Over the next two hours, Zylo and Davi toured a few factories and then the city works warehouse where workers bore responsibility for keeping the city’s parks and transportation corridors in top condition—picking up garbage, clearing debris, and tending landscaping and plants.

  At his desk again, late that afternoon, Davi couldn’t get his mind off what he’d witnessed. He stared at a plant on the windowsill next to his framed diploma from the military Academy. They amounted to the only decorating he’d had time for. Sparse light reflected off the standard gray paint common to government offices. His standard chair sat next to a standard desk buried under piles of files, in queue for the file cabinet behind him. Occupying space between stacks of papers were his computer terminal and communicator. The blandness of the room matched his mood, though he couldn’t keep his eyes off the plant, a gift from the ambassador he’d met at the palace. It stood as the sole living object in the midst of dreary desolation.

  His mother and teachers had taught him principles of law and ethics, intrinsic human rights, and the fundamental value of life. His uncle Xalivar seemed far from sympathetic, and they’d often had hearty debates during which he’d learned his uncle had a different perspective on the world than his. Even though their discussions had always ended with respect and understanding, D
avi couldn’t bring himself to respect orders calling for such cruel abuse. Perhaps the rumors he’d heard from other cadets had some basis in fact. How could the uncle who’d been like a father to him have hidden such a dark side all these years?

  He turned on his computer terminal and fired off an e-post to his mother. She would know the truth. It amazed him she’d never spoken about it before. Did she agree with what was happening?

  O O O

  The next day, Davi travelled out to the farm where Farien oversaw a team of soldiers who supervised workers. The farm itself was larger than Davi had expected with acres of land stretching off for miles and dozens of barns, warehouses and processing buildings, giving Farien a great deal of responsibility, despite his disappointment at not being assigned to a higher position. Neither one of them seemed to be living a high adventure, but at least Farien got to work at the heart of things. Though they hadn’t seen each other since their arrival on the planet, Davi hoped to keep their relationship friendly, despite the discomfort either might feel at Davi being Farien’s supervisor.

  Sounds of livestock, humming engines, and whining servos filled his ears as Davi stepped off the shuttle. Fresh air filled his lungs, as he found Farien leaning against a fence, watching two soldiers load injured workers into a hospital shuttle. Davi took care to move up behind him unnoticed.

  “Neglecting your duties, Lieutenant?” Davi said, smiling. The smell of bean plants and grain filled his nose.

  Farien snapped to attention on instinct, his face falling as he expected to be reprimanded. “We had an incident with some angry bulls today.” Seeing it was Davi, he relaxed.

  Davi laughed, stepping up beside his friend at the fence.

  “Nothing which would keep them off task for more than a couple of days at best,” Farien continued. “Little more exciting than the paper cuts and headaches you supervisors are prone to, Captain.”

  “Stop rubbing it in, okay?” He would always consider them peers.

  Farien shrugged, suppressing a smile. “What are you doing here?”

  Davi motioned for Farien to walk with him. Farien turned to the soldiers by the shuttle. “I want an incident report by the end of the hour, okay? Get back to your duties.” From the look on his face and his tone of voice, Farien enjoyed being in command. “What’s up?” He turned back to Davi as they walked along the fence together.

  Davi began filling him in on his conversation with Zylo the day before and the things he’d witnessed. “I’m wondering if you’ve witnessed any incidents of abuse,” he asked as he finished.

  “Well, it would depend upon how you define abuse,” Farien said. “These Vertullians seem very lazy to me. We have a number of them here who don’t want to pull their own weight and meet quotas.”

  “New quotas demanded by the Alliance or the same quotas they’ve had?” Davi frowned at Farien’s lack of concern.

  “What’s the difference? We’re here to follow the Alliance’s orders, aren’t we?”

  Davi had spent the afternoon before reviewing files on the administrative computer bank. The complaints and issues in the reports almost all related to workers who had failed to meet their quotas or filed complaints about mistreatment by soldiers. Davi had looked into several and found most of the quota problems related to increased demands by the Alliance, and, in some cases, the health of workers. Men could only be pushed so far, but that didn’t stop the soldiers from employing any means necessary to coerce the workers into producing higher and higher results, however. And the result was abuse.

  “Some of the quota increases I’ve seen seem unrealistic to me. A man can only do so much labor,” Davi said. “Especially when he’s ill.”

  They moved past the fence toward a large barn. As they entered, a worker approached with a datapad, handing it to Farien. He read it over, then used the laser stylus to approve it and handed it back as it beeped to acknowledge his signature.

  “Have you been out here to see the operation before?” Farien asked as the worker scurried away.

  Davi shook his head and watched workers loading grain and cut stalks into various machines which processed them and sealed them into shipping containers on the other end. He stood there a moment admiring the compactness of the machines.

  “The machines do a lot of the work. They’re all run by computers. All the workers have to do is supply the raw materials. The machines always seem to spend more time than they should every day waiting on the workers,” Farien continued.

  “Is it because they can’t get the raw materials here fast enough from the field?” Davi asked.

  “Not from what I’ve seen. Some of the workers just aren’t hustling,” Farien said.

  “Switch their assignments then and get workers who are,” Davi said. It seemed an obvious solution.

  Farien lifted his hand in a lazy attempt at a salute. “Yes, Mr. Supervisor.”

  “Oh, come on. You know I didn’t mean it like that!”

  “Look, if you’re asking me if I’ve seen soldiers get a little aggressive from time to time, yeah, I have. I’ve even been tempted to myself,” Farien said. “But nothing out of hand.”

  “You’d tell me if it was, right?”

  “Come on, you know me better than that!” Farien’s voice rose in pitch as he tensed, sounding a little hurt.

  “Sorry. You don’t seem to think much of the workers,” Davi said gently while inwardly hoping he’d read his friend all wrong.

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s right,” Farien answered.

  Davi put a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, I should have remembered who I was talking to.” He trusted Farien, but Farien saw the world through a different lens, tending to be less focused on issues of right and wrong, or justice than Davi. The average soldier didn’t have to think about such things. He simply had to follow orders. But Davi wasn’t the average soldier. Royals had much different expectations upon them.

  “Yeah, don’t let your higher position go to your head, Captain,” Farien snapped.

  Stung by the remark, Davi removed his hand from Farien’s shoulder.

  Then Farien laughed and broke into a wide grin. He’d been teasing. “Wanna see more?”

  “Aren’t I supposed to be the one giving instructions here?” Davi asked, struggling to recover from the weight of the thoughts filling his head. They both chuckled Farien offered a silly salute and led him back out toward the landing pad.

  O O O

  Farien took Davi on a tour of the facilities in a floater, which hovered above the ground by using the planet’s gravity to manipulate the air. It was a pleasant sensation both from the vehicle’s gentle vibrations and the breeze caressing passengers’ skin as it moved. The farm setup impressed Davi a lot, and they witnessed no incidents of abuse. In fact, everything seemed to be running quite smoothly.

  Afterwards, they ate in the soldier’s mess at the back of the barn they’d visited earlier. They took seats across from each other at the end of a long table as workers served them plates of hot gungor meat and Vertullian white bean salad. The presentation was professional, and the service as well-handled as any restaurant. One worker delivered their plates as another provided cutlery and poured them drinks; each moving off in turn to wait on other soldiers.

  “Well?” Farien stared across the table at him, anxious for his response.

  “It’s quite the operation out here,” Davi said, munching on delicious bread made from fruit and nuts. “Very well organized.”

  “Like I told you, nothing out of hand.” Farien replied as Davi glanced down the table to where a worker was pouring drinks for some soldiers. A soldier stuck his foot out as the worker backed up. The worker tripped, struggling to keep his balance as the pitcher flew, spilling its contents on the floor and the uniform of another soldier.

  “Hey! You watch it, slave!” The angry soldier said, shoving the horrified worker as he stood and wiped at his soiled uniform with a napkin.

  “I’m sorry, sir. It was
an accident,” the frightened worker said, bowing his head.

  “Looked to me like he did it on purpose,” said the soldier who had tripped him.

  The angry soldier began shoving the worker. “It’s the truth, right? You think you can ruin my uniform without being reprimanded?”

  “Of course not. I tripped. I’m very sorry,” the worker said.

  “You don’t seem sincere to me,” the angry soldier said, grabbing the worker by his collar and pulling him close so their faces almost touched.

  The worker trembled, eyes frozen wide.

  Davi stood up, trying to control his anger. “Soldier, he already said it was an accident and apologized.”

  The soldiers turned and glared, their faces changing as they spotted Davi’s uniform insignia. He hurried over, Farien close behind.

  “These slaves show no respect,” said the soldier who had tripped the worker.

  “Perhaps you should have a medical officer check your leg to see if it suffered any damage when you tripped him,” Davi answered, shooting him a stern look.

  The soldier reacted with surprise at being caught. “Can I help it if he’s not watching where he steps?” the tripper responded, still trying to pretend it was accidental.

  “No, you can’t control that. What you can control is how you treat workers. Any soldier who treats workers without dignity and respect can expect to be reprimanded,” Davi said.

  “Ah, come on, Captain. It’s a little harmless fun,” said the soldier whose uniform was soiled.

  “Go get these soldiers something so they can clean up the mess.” Davi motioned to the worker, who nodded and hurried off, suppressing a smile.

  “That’s a worker’s job!” The angry soldier objected.

  “Not today it isn’t. You made the mess. You clean it up,” Davi ordered as they both scowled. “If you want, I am sure I can arrange to make cleanup a regular part of your duties.” He glanced at Farien.

  Their faces became apologetic and they shook their heads. Davi returned to his seat at the end of the table.

  As Farien took his seat across from Davi, he glanced back down at the shocked soldiers. “Don’t you think you were a little harsh?”