The Ghost Mine

by Ben Wolf

  “Ah, good.” Stecker smiled and rubbed his hands. “I need you shiny bastards to carry these mattresses down to the laundry room. Treat and wash the clothes, then clean off the mattresses, please, and let these two know via their screens when everything is done.”

  “Request confirmed,” the first one said. “Would you please excuse us?”

  Stecker urged Justin and Keontae to the back of the room while the androids got to work. They bent at their waists, grabbed the mattresses, which still lay stacked on each other with Justin and Keontae’s clothes on top, and lifted them.

  As the androids backed toward the door, Justin thought they’d run into the doorframe with the mattresses, but at the last instant, they shifted their grips and turned the mattresses on their sides. Some of the clothes fell off, but in the hallway, the androids lowered the mattresses and piled the clothes back on, and then they headed down the hallway to the right.

  “I sure could’ve used some of those about fifteen years ago when I was living as a bachelor on Ylipsin Prime,” Stecker said. “Would’ve been nice to have that kind of help.”

  Justin and Keontae just nodded.

  Stecker smiled at them. “Well, I’m sure you boys have things to do this evening. Probably some training modules? Your first real day starts tomorrow. Better get to work on those so you don’t lag behind.”

  “Yeah,” Justin said. “Training modules. Right.”

  “I’ll leave you to it, then.” Stecker turned and headed for the door.

  “Stecker?” Justin called, and he turned back. “Thank you.”

  “Yeah, thank you.” Keontae added, “A lot.”

  He nodded. “Lock your door next time.”

  Then he turned and walked out.

  Keontae stared at Justin. “What the hell just happened?”

  “I don’t know, Key.” Justin smiled. “But I’m not going to complain.”

  Justin and Keontae used the time to snag a second shower to clean the leftover soap out of their hair. Then, an hour after the custodial bot cleaned Justin and Keontae’s carpet, the androids showed up at their door again.

  Instead of calling Justin and Keontae to retrieve their mattresses, sheets, and clothing like Stecker had instructed, the androids delivered everything back to the room. Their clothes arrived dried and folded, and the androids even made their beds for them.

  “Thank you,” Justin said as the androids moved to leave.

  They stopped and turned back to him in unison. The lead one said, “No thanks are necessary. We are happy to serve.”

  After they left, Keontae shook his head. “You hear that? A machine is ‘happy’ to serve.”

  “I don’t think they actually have emotions. I think they’re just programmed to use terms we’ll understand instead of a bunch of zeroes and ones.”

  “Obviously. Still weird, though.”

  A couple of hours and a few training modules later, Keontae barreled through his workout, called it a night, and crawled into the top bunk and fresh sheets. Justin crashed in the lower bunk not long after, but try as he might, he couldn’t sleep. The mattress felt damp under his back.

  He would’ve gotten up to flip it, but then he’d have to unmake his bed, flip it—which might wake up Keontae—and then remake it. It wasn’t worth it.

  Instead, he slipped into his shoes, pulled on a shirt, a pair of shorts, and some flip-flops. He grabbed his ID card and headed into the corridor. The door hissed shut behind him, and he entered his access code on the screen to lock it.

  He relieved himself in the bathroom then returned to the corridor. The blue lights overhead had dimmed sometime between when the androids had dropped off his stuff and when he’d left the room, but he could still see well enough to know that he was alone.

  The orange glow of the ACM logos on the screens of everyone’s doors gave the corridor an eerie-yet-awesome look in the semi-dark.

  Justin walked back to his room, but instead of going inside, he turned to face Shannon’s door. What he wouldn’t give to be in there with her right now.

  Shoot. That camera.

  He turned back to his own room. He didn’t want to give security a reason to wonder what he was doing, especially being a creeper outside of his foreman’s room. That wouldn’t bode well for him in any possible way.

  But he didn’t want to go back to sleep, either. Maybe he could catch a late-night snack in the cafeteria, if such a thing was an option. If not, maybe he could grab something from the vending machine he’d seen inside the first buffer zone.

  Justin headed toward the corridor’s access door but stopped when he reached Dirk’s door. He shook his head. He should’ve hung up his damned salmon-vomit shirt over the door after all. At least it would’ve given Dirk an actual reason to hate him so much.

  He stared at the ACM logo on the screen on Dirk’s door. As much as he wanted to get into Shannon’s room, he’d much rather get into Dirk’s and rip out his throat. Justin could never actually do something like that, but thinking about it made him feel better.

  He tapped Dirk’s screen, expecting the ACM logo to disappear and present the usual touchpad to enter an access code, but instead it started talking to him. Shouting at him.

  “Access denied. Access denied. Access denied.”

  He cursed and tapped the screen again to try to get it to shut up. Damned, glitchy tech!

  “Access denied. Access denied.”

  Something shuffled, then thumped behind Dirk’s door, but the screen kept talking.

  Justin would never make it back to his room in time, and there was nowhere else to hide in the corridor. So he turned toward the access door.

  He didn’t need to open it with his access code; it opened on its own from this side, and he ran through.

  The door wooshed shut behind him, and he backed up against the wall next to the door. Another woosh sounded from just inside the corridor, followed by a stream of cursing amid the screen’s “Access denied” message.

  Justin had to move. He bolted down the short passageway and darted around the corner toward the cafeteria, went through the cafeteria access door, and let it shut behind him.

  Instead of the cafeteria lights being dimmed like those in the dorms, only one of them remained on. It hung in the center of the cafeteria ceiling and cast soft blue light onto a fraction of the empty Plastrex tables below, leaving the rest of the cafeteria shrouded in long shadows and darkness.

  All except for a red light pulsing slowly within the kitchen.

  He wouldn’t have seen it had the kitchen’s double-doors not been cracked open, almost as if they’d frozen midway through opening or closing. Red light painted the tiled floor like molten rock.

  He remembered Connie’s claim that a ghost was haunting the mine. It wasn’t true—it couldn’t be true—but the combination of these sights and his thoughts made him uneasy.

  Justin eased closer to the door, his breaths deep, yet shaky. The light had to be coming from some sort of kitchen appliance. And the shakiness—well, he’d just barely escaped getting caught alone in a dark corridor with Dirk.

  Something clinked from inside the kitchen—metal on metal, or maybe glass on metal.

  Justin stopped short of entering the kitchen. If someone else was in there, he didn’t want to interrupt something he might not want to see. Instead, he waited. The sound didn’t occur again.

  He inhaled another trembling breath and stepped inside.

  Nothing seemed out of place. The refrigeration and freezer units hummed, and the three androids stood hunched over the metal table, their red eyes modulating in brightness at slow, rhythmic intervals. Probably on some sort of recharging cycle.

  Justin’s thrumming heart rate calmed. It was just the damned androids. The blade of a large knife touched the table, but one of the androids still held its handle. Its grip must have loosened, and the knife blade clinking on the tabletop would’ve caused the sound Justin heard.

  Justin exhaled an even breath. Good. May
be now he could snag a snack of some sort.

  As a kid, Justin had seen centuries-old reruns of Marx Brothers comedies while living with his aunt and uncle. They’d made him laugh, and he could remember them vividly.

  Something about the way these androids moved when they were active reminded Justin of the Marx Brothers, so he named the androids Harpo, Chico, and Groucho. Groucho was the one with the dent in its forehead, the one that had been staring at him and pointing the knife at him earlier that day.

  Justin tried to access the refrigerator to see what was in it, but it had a screen like the ones on his and the other workers’ dormitory doors. He doubted his access code would work, but he tapped it in anyway.

  “Access denied,” the voice said, this time much quieter than it had at Dirk’s door.

  Figures. Justin frowned. He’d just have to go back to bed and try to sleep. The clock on the screen read 0258 anyway. He had to be up in another two hours to begin prepping for the day’s work. Ugh. Tomorrow would be miserable if he didn’t get some—

  Clank.

  Justin jumped and whirled around, his heart hammering.

  The knife had dropped all the way from Groucho’s hand onto the table. Its round handle still rocked back and forth slightly, and red light from the androids’ eyes danced on the ceiling, reflected by the quivering knife blade.

  Bastard. Justin shook his head and chuckled. “You gotta stop doing that to me. I normally don’t scare so easily.”

  Groucho’s eyes dimmed, flared brighter, and repeated as they had since Justin arrived. As Justin approached, he recognized the gash above its left eye again.

  The android jerked upright, snatched the knife into its hand, and swiveled toward Justin.

  He fell back onto the floor.

  Groucho’s dim eyes brightened to hellfire red, and red light emanated from its chest, wrists, and ankles. Its hand began spinning from its wrist, and the knife spun along with it, a fan blade of razor-sharp death.

  It focused its gaze down at Justin, who stared up at it, his eyes wide.

  Then it started toward him.

  “No—stop!” Justin pushed backward, trying to scoot away from the android. At first, his feet couldn’t find purchase on the slick kitchen floor, and when they did, he promptly backed into a wall next to the pantry door.

  Groucho continued to stalk forward, its metallic steps clanking on the kitchen floor as it approached. It leaned forward and reached for him with its non-knife hand.

  Justin clenched his eyes shut.

  9

  A quick, high-pitched squeak sounded.

  Justin cracked his left eye open and saw the pantry door open in his periphery.

  Groucho removed a bin, and then turned around and headed back to the prep table, away from him. It set the bin down, laid out a cutting board, removed a carrot, and diced it into dozens of slices with its swirling knife blade.

  Justin’s brow furrowed, but his mouth still hung open.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  Justin’s chest leaped again at the sound of the metallic voice. He craned his neck and looked past the android with the knife. The middle of the two androids had fixed its emotionless face and electric red gaze on him.

  “The time is 0300 hours. Do you have clearance to be in here at this hour?” it asked.

  Justin stammered something about seeing a light in the kitchen, still focused on calming his hammering heartbeat.

  “Please, sir, I must ask you to leave the food processing area. We are beginning our daily preparations. According to Coalition Food Processing Guidelines, we must maintain a controlled, sanitary food processing environment. I would hate to have to report this violation to—”

  “I get it. I get it.” Justin pushed himself up to his feet. “I’m sorry.”

  “There is no harm done, sir. Thank you for your understanding and cooperation.” The android nodded toward him. “We are happy to serve.”

  “Happy to scare the starlights out of me,” he muttered.

  “Pardon me, sir? I did not hear what you said?” the android asked.

  Justin shook his head and brushed the back of his shorts off. “It’s nothing. Just talking to myself.”

  “I am sorry, sir. I cannot relate.”

  “Yeah. Whatever.” Justin looked around. “Do you guys work in the dark?”

  “Our visual processing apparatus enables us to see equally well in lit or unlit conditions. To conserve energy and thereby reduce company expenses, the kitchen lights remain off except during waking daylight hours.”

  “Sure.” Justin glanced at the knife-wielding android. It hadn’t taken its eyes off of him since it woke up, even as it fed carrot after carrot into the spinning knife.

  What the hell?

  “I guess I’ll be going now.”

  His heart still pounding, Justin left the kitchen, now alight with the steady red light from the androids’ eyes, arms, ankles, and chests.

  But it wasn’t the only light he saw when he left the kitchen. Another light shone from the passageway that connected the cafeteria to the first buffer zone. Weird color, too. Not like the blue of the domes that lit almost every room of the complex or the red of the androids’ eyes—this one had a faint green hue to it.

  And it was moving.

  Justin headed into the passageway and then into the buffer zone as the light moved away from him. Only a quarter of the blue dome lights in the first buffer zone glowed, but the greenish light vanished when he stepped inside. He peered between the rows of lockers, looking for it, but he didn’t see it.

  “Hello?” he called. “Is someone in here?”

  He moved toward the door that led to the next buffer zone and the decontamination showers. That door, too, hung open, though normally all of these doors required personal access codes. Sure enough, the greenish light shined from inside the next zone. It was moving away from him, perhaps actively.

  When he entered the showers, the light vanished again, but this time he watched it depart. Was he catching up to it?

  He moved quicker and chased it through the showers and the other buffer zones and into the passageway that led to the mine entrance. As if it knew he was following, the light disappeared as soon as Justin entered the passageway. The warning sign that preceded the entrance to the mine hung over his head, reminding him that he needed proper attire to enter the mine.

  At the end of the long passageway, the vault-like mine entrance hung open just enough to allow a bit of the greenish light to shine around its edges.

  What the hell was going on? It was after 0300, and someone or something had accessed the mine.

  Justin’s inquisitive mind urged him to investigate further, but after the scare with the knife-wielding android in the kitchen, and given the late hour and that he had to be up for work in two hours, he decided to let it go.

  He wasn’t dressed for entering the mine, and Connie’s warnings about the automated guard units on patrol at night didn’t give Justin warm fuzzies about entering the mine to find out what was in there. Whatever it was, it wasn’t worth getting shot over.

  Besides, the light was probably just a cleaning bot anyway. Maybe a maintenance android or something. It really wasn’t his problem.

  He grabbed a candy bar from the vending machine in the first buffer zone and ate it while he made his way back to his corridor and his room. Then he lay down on his mattress, which was still damp, but he had to sleep at some point nonetheless. Justin’s head hit his pillow, and he closed his eyes.

  Somehow, Justin made it to breakfast the next morning, but the toll of not sleeping long enough in each of the two nights prior weighed him down. Every step he took from the dorms to the cafeteria dragged, and his vision had stayed cloudy since he’d woken up that morning.

  His first bite of scrambled eggs—which tasted real, but he couldn’t be sure—calmed his gurgling stomach but didn’t give him nearly the energy he’d hoped for. Keontae, Connie, and Candy sat around him, talking up a storm
—well, except for Candy, who stayed quiet as usual—but Justin only processed a quarter of what they were saying.

  “You look terrible,” Connie said.

  Justin looked up from his plate. “Huh? Oh. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “You’ll feel it later today.” Connie laughed her grinding laugh. “Guaranteed.”

  Justin groaned and buried his forehead in his hands. The beginnings of a headache encroached from his neck, the result of not enough sleep.

  Still, last night’s events had left him curious. The killer android in the kitchen was explainable because it wasn’t actually a killer android, but the light coming from the mine lingered in his memory.

  The custodial bot that had cleaned Justin and Keontae’s carpet hadn’t emitted any discernible light aside from a blinking orange light on its domed top. And the custodial androids gave off blue light.

  So what was the greenish light he’d seen in the buffer zones?

  “Do you guys know how early the foreman or anyone else can access the mine? Do they go in before we get there?” he asked.

  Connie shrugged. “I imagine so. Don’t know what time, though. Why?”

  Before Justin could answer, some guy plopped down next to him. He had long, oily hair and wore a worn denim jacket. The guy’s narrow eyes and sharp, angular nose made him resemble a greasy rat.

  He smiled at Justin with crooked yellow teeth and asked in a velvety voice, “How’s it going?”

  Justin glanced at Keontae then gave the guy an uncertain nod. “Fine. Do I know you?”

  “Not yet, you don’t. But you do now.” The guy extended his hand. “Name’s Bryce Pincher. Everyone calls me ‘Pinch.’”

  Justin stared at Pinch’s hand and the grime smudged on it. “Forgive me if I don’t shake your hand. I’m still eating.”

  Pinch snickered. “I get that a lot. Couldn’t help but notice you’re looking a bit hung over this morning.”

  “Tired, actually.”

  “Ah.” Pinch rubbed his hands together. “I’m familiar with the sensation. Listen, I’m sure you’re a busy guy, and you don’t know me, but I can help you with that. I help lots of guys with comparable issues.”