Diverse Energies

by Joe Monti Tobias S. Buckell

  His mind raced. He’d heard of other drivers going on rampages. It was some kind of problem with the link, or with the drivers perhaps. But it always meant damage to the gollies, and possibly to the mine as well.

  He’d expected the other driver to back off, go inactive as his minder severed the mental link, but instead, the other golly moved forward, swinging its arms in a frenzy. Through the goggle eyes, the rampaging golly resembled a large, squat metal man, all brass carapace and long, ape-like arms.

  Ravi knew he needed to protect his golly. He raised its gripping hand and grabbed the other golly’s cutting arm with the claw-like appendage. Then he raised his own cutting arm. For a moment he considered cutting the other golly, but he knew how valuable gollies were, and he feared what would happen if he damaged one. Instead, he swept his arm overhead, cutting into an overhang of rock with the moving blade. Then Ravi released the golly’s grip and moved backward.

  Rock fell down onto the golly’s legs, fixing them in place. Ravi watched through the golly’s eyes as it tried to pull them free. But they wouldn’t move.

  As his panic subsided, he spoke, through his own mouth, to his minder back in the pen. “Another golly attacked me. But he’s contained now,” he said.

  “We should pull you out,” Minder Charles said into his ear.

  “No, wait,” Ravi said. Now that the dust raised by the rampaging golly had cleared, he saw what lay revealed behind the rock he had cut.

  In the shine of his wytchfire, rich primosite reflected back the bilious light. Golden-white primosite. The treasure of their modern age. The power source for all of the Imperium’s wondrous creations. Even through the golly’s eyes it seemed to have hidden depths.

  Had he been able to, Ravi would have smiled. But golly faces couldn’t smile. Instead, he spoke from his own mouth, telling the Minder back in the pen that he had found primosite to be collected, then he began the process of cutting into the vein, collecting the rich mineral. The other golly remained still, the link probably severed back in the pen.

  When Ravi was pulled out, the other driver, a boy named Suresh, had already been removed. “What happened?” Ravi asked Minder Charles.

  “Just a little problem with the link,” Minder Charles said. “Nothing to worry about. You did a great job in stopping the golly, though.”

  That night as the others filed into the feeding station for the nightly rations, Ravi was allowed a special meal, a kind of soupy curry with gristly pieces of indeterminate origin lurking inside. It wasn’t anything he’d ever had before — the approximation of things he had eaten in his childhood rather than a true Drinan dish — but there was the barest hint of home in its aroma and taste.

  The Overseer had come to see him after the meal. “Good work today,” he said. “Keep doing well and you might move up. Did you enjoy the meal?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ravi said. “If I may?” He knew he was being bold, but after stopping the rampaging golly and finding a vein of primosite, he felt it justified.

  “Go on,” the Overseer said, raising one gray eyebrow.

  “May I write a letter back home?”

  “You can write?” the Overseer asked.

  Ravi nodded. “My sister, Astha, taught me.”

  The Overseer shrugged. “Then you can write a letter. I’ll have someone bring you some paper. Deliver it to me in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ravi said, and ran back off to his room.

  Back at the flop, laid out like brown teeth next to the other boys, he composed his letter, trying to fit as much as possible into the space allotted. The tele-gollies could only handle a limited amount, or at least whatever was rationed per person. Like everything, they ran on primosite, and it was costly.

  “Dear Mami and Papu,” he began. “I hope that you’re doing well. I hope that the stipend you’re receiving for my work has been helpful to you.” He went on to tell them a little about his work and his living situation, embellishing a bit so they wouldn’t worry. But he ended by talking of his recent success and how he hoped it would lead to something better for him. He even mentioned the gossip he’d overheard: that the Archmagus himself might be visiting them soon as part of his tour of the Imperium. He hoped his parents would be proud of him. He hoped they already were.

  Afterward, the letter carefully secreted beneath his sleeping mat, he crawled over to Noosa’s mat. “It’s time for another lesson,” he said.

  Noosa shook his head and tried to roll over. “I thought you were busy with your letter.”

  “I was and now I’m not.”

  Noosa raised himself on his elbows. “If you can read and write, why do I have to?”

  “Because I won’t always be here,” Ravi said. “I intend to move out of this stink hole soon enough. Maybe onto the railroad like Atul.”

  “You don’t need to read or write to work the railroad.”

  “No, but one day I intend to have a nice job in an office. You should, too.”

  Noosa grumbled, but crawled with Ravi over to the window, where they went over letters by moonlight. After an hour or so of this, Ravi let Noosa return to sleep, and he crawled atop his mat, thinking for the first time in months that his exit was at least close at hand.

  In the morning, Ravi handed the letter to Overseer Drudge, who folded it and stuffed it into his pocket. “It’s good news for you, my lad,” he said.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “We’ve decided to move you forward. You’ll be at the front of the golly waves. The diggers have moved into new territory. You’ll be one of the first to see it.”

  Ravi couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his face. “Thank you, sir,” he said.

  “Just keep up the good work,” Drudge said. “There’ll be more letters in the future for you if you do. And maybe a special meal or two.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ravi said.

  Magus Sharpe was in the Driving Room when Ravi arrived. Sharpe often stopped by to supervise the transfers and check on the links, but today his scowl seemed deeper than usual. He glared at Ravi as he entered the room. “You’re late,” he said, and cuffed Ravi on the back of the head.

  Ravi didn’t let it bother him. Minder Charles looked surprised as Ravi hopped into the transfer chair. “You’re full of pep this morning,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” Ravi said, smiling, and closed his eyes as Charles slid the thin metal crown over his head. He felt the familiar charge and tingle as the primosite energy flowed through the machine. The hairs on his arms stood up.

  Then he was seeing through the golly’s eyes. They weren’t as sharp as human eyes, but they picked up contrast better. He took a moment to check the golly’s movements, make sure that the link was correct. He’d never had a problem before, but the rampaging golly was still fresh in his mind. He didn’t want to jeopardize his new status at the front of the lines.

  “Proceed to the foremost tunnel,” the minder’s voice said in his ear.

  Ravi moved the golly forward.

  Brassy heads swiveled as he passed them, and he knew the other boys were wondering where he was going. Why he was moving forward. Most of them probably didn’t even know who he was, but he could feel their envy as if it were primosite energy radiating out into the close air of the mine.

  He’d never been this far before, had never seen the front of the mining efforts. The tunnel’s end was blocked by the bulk of the diggers just ahead — the large, powerful machines that bored through the rock powered, of course, by primosite. It was kind of funny when he thought about it. They used primosite power to mine more primosite to power more things.

  But then of course there was much more than mining equipment to run. The railroads, where Atul was working, were one of the most recent destinations for the valuable ore. Then there were other machines, ones that the elite of the city used to do, well, almost everything if the other boys were to be believed. Primosite power was even said to cook their food, though such a thing seemed far too fantastic for him to bel
ieve.

  He began his work, pushing the wytchfire lamp to full power, sweeping his gaze over the rock in front of him, readying the cutting arm.

  The first few hours yielded very little. He’d thought that maybe the newly cut rock would be gleaming with primosite veins; instead, he found only a few small deposits. Barely enough to line the bottom of his bin. But he worked steadily, still hoping.

  His windfall was not to be. By the time Minder Charles told him to withdraw, he had barely doubled his take from the beginning of the day. It was slim pickings, and as Charles pulled the cap from his head, he clenched his hands, his human hands, into fists.

  As he exited the room, head low, he noticed that Suresh wasn’t in his usual chair. A new boy was there. Maybe he was still in the Infirmary, Ravi thought. He forgot to ask, though, worried as he was. He anticipated the call into the Overseer’s office and the removal of his newfound status at the front.

  “It’s your first day,” Noosa said at the evening meal, his mouth full of lentils. “Maybe they’re letting you warm up.”

  “Do you think that’s likely?” Ravi said. “You’ve been here longer than I have. You know how things work.”

  Noosa shrugged. “Then they’re waiting for you to screw up even more first.” He wiped at his nose, and Ravi saw a trickle of blood across his hand. Atul had had nosebleeds as well, before he moved on to the railroads. The Minders said it was a result of the dry air. Ravi was lucky he had avoided them.

  The next day Ravi was still unable to find any significant primosite deposits. As the other boys gathered for the evening meal, he was summoned to the Overseer’s office. Ravi stood before the man’s desk, his brown hands clenched together in front of him. Drudge read over some papers on his desk before finally looking up at Ravi. His skin was like pale stone, but his eyes were a piercing blue. He shook his head ever so slightly. “I have to say I am disappointed in you.”

  Ravi felt the blood rush to his face, and he lowered his eyes.

  “We moved you to the Front because we thought, because I thought, that you could bring us more primosite. But based on the latest figures” — he picked up a sheet of paper and ran a finger over it — “hardly up to snuff.”

  “I—I’m sorry,” Ravi began. “I’ve been trying.”

  Drudge stood up and came around his desk, looking down at Ravi. The great, pale roll of his neck ballooned over his tight collar like the belly of a frog. “I suggest you try harder,” he said, quietly but firmly. “I thought that maybe you would be able to follow in the footsteps of your brother. Prove yourself a boon to us. But now . . .”

  Ravi felt as if he had eels wriggling in his belly. Dark, shameful eels that bit at him from the inside. “I can do it,” he insisted.

  “See that you do,” the Overseer said. “You may have heard that the Archmagus may visit us soon. If he does, he will be taking an interest in our people and our figures. If you don’t make the grade, you’ll be sent to the back of the mines, and there will be no special meals and no letters home. Understood?”

  Ravi nodded. The Overseer dismissed him, and he walked back to the mess like a dead thing, the eels now turned to cold, heavy bricks inside of him. Worse still, the meal had finished being served, and all that was left were scraps. He spooned the tasteless food into his mouth and chewed mechanically.

  That night he dreamed of Atul and his work on the railroad. He imagined his brother riding atop a great silvery snake of chrome and brass, primosite energy crackling off it as it slid against the rails. “Come aboard,” Atul said. He leaned off the side of the engine and held out a thin, brown arm to Ravi. “Come on.”

  Ravi reached for his hand, but the engine was moving so fast and Atul’s hand seemed so thin, so small. He reached for it, but it slipped right through his grasp, soft, dry fingers slipping away like silk. Ravi’s fingers closed on empty air.

  He turned to watch Atul go, tears forming in his eyes, but to his shock and horror, his brother fell from the top of the engine, falling away below into a great, black chasm that had appeared below it.

  He woke in a clinging sweat. As he was wiping it from his stubbly head, he felt the scar at the back of his skull, rubbed it. It was a reminder, a mark of who he was. He was a driver. He moved gollies. Would he be stuck doing that forever?

  He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.

  Magus Sharpe was once again in the Driving Room when Ravi and the others arrived. They were lined up in the front of the room and the Magus stood before them, his red-robed arms crossed over his chest, his face stern and scowling. “Listen up, you wogs,” he said. “This hostel is about to come under a great deal of scrutiny. The Archmagus will be arriving here within the next two weeks. We don’t know when he will arrive, but when he does, he will be inspecting the whole facility. He will be reviewing primosite loads, golly damage reports; he will be inspecting all of you, your crowns and your chairs. He might even ask you to operate your gollies for him. If so, you will do anything he says.

  “He will be attended by his retinue, which means that things will be more crowded when they arrive. All non-working time will be restricted to your flop, and rations will be cut to help support our larger numbers.

  “You will act at all times with respect and dignity. I know it is not natural to you, but do your best to imitate your betters. If you do not, if you embarrass this facility and the fine people who run it, you will face me.” This last he said with a grim smile. Then he waved a hand, indicating that they should continue.

  Minder Charles would not meet his eyes when Ravi slid into the driving chair. Ravi inhaled as the crown was lowered onto his head, and he took control of the golly with a sense of determination churning inside of him.

  Still, a primosite vein eluded him for most of the morning, and he was starting to feel his head ache from the strain of searching. It had been three days now since he’d been positioned at the Front, and he had so far turned up nothing significant. If he failed here, they would send him to the back, where the pickings were even slimmer and where he’d have no chance of finding anything worth presenting. He would remain in the mines, and he wouldn’t see Atul for a long time. If ever. Condemned to remain in this hell.

  The pain and the frustration hammered away at him until, for the first time, he lost control and lashed out with the golly’s arm. Rock sparked and flew away, and because it fulfilled some kind of primal urge, he did it again. Then again.

  By the time he had controlled himself — that kind of behavior was punished because it could damage the gollies — a large chunk of rock had been gouged from the cavern wall.

  Inside, Ravi saw primosite gleaming.

  He turned up his light, and yes, there it was. A primosite vein. A juicy primosite vein. Almost as big as the one that had earned him the Front.

  He thought he might be able to make the golly smile this time. He started delicately cutting at the vein when the ground around him started to shake.

  His delight twisted into fear as he realized what was happening.

  A cave-in.

  He turned, looking for the others around him, but he was alone. He started moving back, making his way to where it was safe.

  But the vein . . . if he left it now, there was no telling if he could return. Even if the Front were still clear, he might not find it. Or maybe someone else would before he could claim it.

  His indecision cost him. Chunks of rock fell from the cavern ceiling, some bouncing against the brass of the golly, and Ravi felt the impacts through the link they shared.

  He began to move back to the rear of the mining group, but vision was hard with all the dust kicked up from the collapse.

  He stomped blindly, not knowing in which direction he needed to go, trying in vain to wave the dust away but hoping that he would make it to safety.

  Then the golly pitched over, and his vision went dark. Stones rattled across the golly’s back. With a shudder that he felt all over, more rock fell, heavier and harder, until he
couldn’t move any part of the golly.

  “Help,” he said, back in the pen. “A cave-in. I’m . . . I’m trapped.” In a moment the crown was removed from his head, and he was back in the pen, the minder’s pale face in front of his own.

  “There was no moving the golly?” Charles said.

  Ravi shook his head. His hands curled into fists. He had seen primosite. He had been so close. Now it was lost. And if they found out he was responsible for the cave-in, and the loss of the golly, he would be punished.

  “You’d better return to the flop,” Charles said. “You won’t be able to do anything until they can free your golly.”