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Lazily, Sawyer leans back putting their feet up on a nearby rock.
Ash’s serious face does not share Sawyer’s light-hearted attitude. “This is a big deal, Sawyer. How can you be so cavalier about all...” He gestures around. “All this?”
The humor drains from Sawyer’s golden eyes. The vertical pupil begins to widen slightly as they become adjusted to the dim light in the cave. “Life is hard, kid. You can’t take anything too seriously.” Sawyer sighs and rubs their stubble-dappled chin. “Look… Life sucks pretty much everywhere. I used to work in Mudslide.” Sawyer holds up a hand to stall Ash’s question. “Yes, Mudslide, sure it’s not the official name. To us real people, it's just Mudslide.
“They’ve got huge factories for building all sorts of technology with assembly lines to create all those huge buildings, vehicles, and other devices you see in the city. They also grow tons of food, make textiles, and so on. Which is great and all… but it's all done on the backs of grunts. Ten-hour days. Seven days a week. In dangerous conditions. You know the noise? It's so loud that most folks go deaf in a year. Some people never hear their kids' voices.
“You would think with all this important work and terrible conditions, that they were compensated?” Sawyer spits on the ground. “Hah! Corps are what they are… money-grubbing ratfinks who only serve themselves and their families. I was working a security detail once, and I found something on the other side of the supply yard unnaturally fascinating as a dozen teenagers ripped off an entire palette of construction materials. I hope they sold those goods and made sure their families could eat for a month. Needless to say, I lost that job. I’m not really great with authority figures.” Sawyer sighs, releasing some of their recalled tension.
“A guy got loud one day and told us we should stand up for ourselves. Surprisingly enough people listened, we had a little riot of sorts. A couple hundred of us stood up from our jobs and were met by a line of armed soldiers. They had guns, we had fists.” Sawyer thrusts a balled-up fist into the palm of their other hand, before their shoulders drop a little. “Needless to say, we didn’t last long. That guy was arrested.”
Artwork by Pavel Chagochkin
Ash blinks and leans towards Sawyer a fraction of an inch, enraptured by the story. He barely notices as Travis and Teresa return from laying their traps. The twins rest back to back and seem to doze quietly in a rare moment of respite.
“The next day, he gave a speech, imploring us to stop resisting and get back to work,” says Sawyer, their voice taking a mocking tone before returning to normal. “So most folks did. I had trouble with it though, so I lost that job too. I heard shortly after that he never returned to the assembly line, but I noticed his kid was being transported to the inner city, dressed in a clean school uniform. Someone made him a deal he couldn’t refuse.” Sawyer’s shoulders shrug slightly with a nonchalance that belies the grave implications of his story. “Oh, I don’t blame him. If I had family, I’d probably do the same.” Sawyer pauses, noticing the seriousness in the young faces around them, then smirks slyly and injects a little humor to lighten the mood. “Not that I’d ever weaken myself with family.”
Travis rolls his eyes, as Teresa whispers, “Sure, Sawyer. Sure you wouldn’t want to weaken yourself...”
Whatever else Teresa had to say is lost in a large racket as one of the traps goes off. The twins move from an apparent doze to wide awake on their feet with weapons in hand.