Chapter Twenty Two Mikel

Mikel is sitting at the campfire with Ray, his father, and a few of the other old timers. He’s sitting on the edge of an old tractor tire with his fifth beer in his hand and he’s considering speaking his peace about what’s been going on at Werker. He feels that the Five-Series project has gotten way out of hand and that it’s time something is done about it.

Everyone at work, including himself, was strictly told to keep their mouths shut about the project. The ramifications for breaking the non-disclosure agreements they signed were not typical. He had already signed one when he hired on, but this one was different. Paul made it very clear that actions would be taken against them if anyone broke contract. He took Paul seriously back then, but now the man is dead and gone.

He’s been with Werker for ten years now and he’s not seen any other projects go like this one. It was treated very differently from the beginning and now he knows why. Werker has always done right by him with pay, healthcare, and everything, so he naturally feels loyalty to the company, but this robot shit is really starting to get to him.

Neither he nor any of the community members have put much stock in any of the city rat’s ideologies, but now it’s looking like they might not be so crazy. The people in the city live by the old-ways too, but usually a bit more strictly. From time to time, they’re still called zealots, and for good reason.

From what he and Ray have seen so far, the world could be on the verge of another big change for the worse. The return of heavy robot labor has steadily ruined his family’s livelihoods over the last three generations, and now the damn things are about to ruin them completely. Most everyone already has to work with robots, and now they’ll have to socialize with them too. All anyone want is to be able to put their goddamn hands and hearts into their work, to have a sense of worth, and something to feel appreciated for.

He remembers when he was a boy, people would come from all over for their prized produce and livestock. It was special to have real food grown from the real ground back then. Their community used to feel good about themselves and what they were doing. Today, people think they’ll get food poisoning, or something just because someone touched their food with their actual hands.

It makes him sick how people have found a creepy kind of comfort in the consistency and sterility of mass processed goods. No one even comes out to the farmland anymore. The fruits of their labors are most often trucked off without so much as a handshake. There are still a few customers that don’t take them for granted though, but that is all they have left anymore.

Most of the younger folk from the community, like Ray and himself, have had to find work in the city. A lot of the farming is now done just for themselves, so at least they don’t have to grow up on food that came out of a tube. The more civilized world makes them all feel unwanted, abandoned, and embarrassed. It’s simply in the way people look at them these days.

He hardly enjoys going to Clarice’s apartment building anymore. It was fun going to the lounge with her and her sister for a while, but they don’t even have a real bar tender there. Even it’s a piece of shit robot too. Everything is always the exact same, what it says, how it serves them, how his drink tastes, it’s all cut and paste every time. He can’t even bear to order a cocktail anymore. It is like every single thing in the city comes out of a package, food, drink, life, all of it.

In his mind, he imagines himself in the future, running through the streets shouting and trying to find a single real human to talk to. He wonders if anyone will notice that there aren’t any real people left until it’s too late. While he’s deep in thought, staring at dirt between his boots, the beer in his hand slips out of his grip and spurts a bunch of foam out on the ground. It’s bright orange under the light of the fire. One of the men leans in and looks at him warily.

“You all right bud?”

He realizes that he’s been staring at the ground for quite some time, likely with a look of despair on his face. “Yeah man, I’m fine. It’s alright.”

Ray looks into his eyes and scrunches his eyebrows. “You sure? You look totally freaked right now dude.”

He looks at Ray in disappointment. He can’t believe, he, of all people, hasn’t said anything about what happened yet. “You know what’s on my mind brother. You tell anyone what happened to your arm? What really happened? Huh?”

Ray gives him a real serious glare and even stands up. He doesn’t want to square off, but he means to make his point. Being trashed is no excuse for saying stupid shit. “You know damn well what we’ve got going on over there, and that is between the two of us. You remember that much?” He is stern as hell and there isn’t even the chirp of a cricket until well after he sits back down.

Sure, none of the guys at the campfire would get worked up about anything, even if they did blab all night about the Five series project. They’ve mostly all accepted life as being the way it is. At their age, they have all found solace, and aren’t easily riled up. It’s who they might tell that worries him. He and Ray know damn well to never speak about Werker, Paul, or anything, and to take their dealings to the grave.

After Ray’s rather sobering stand, conversation is having a hard time getting started again. It seems everyone is waiting, expecting one of them to spill the beans anyway. They’re all supposed to have confidence in one another after all. Not a one of them is an outsider.

Ray looks around the circle at everyone individually before making his point final. “There will not be any further talk on the matter folks, ever.” The rest of the men around the fire suddenly pretend to look elsewhere, as if something has caught their attention.

Whenever Ray says something in a tone like that, people listen. The last time some big idiot called him out, they found their face between his boot and the ground. Even though Ray is not a big man, he is swift, and slipperier than a greased rat. He’s always been a kind and forgiving man, but he has a deep vein of ferocity running through him.

With everyone’s spirits dampened, Ray’s Father leaps at the opportunity to carry on with his tales. The old man would yammer on to his old dog if he could, but even Roy’s furry but can only handle about ten minutes of it. He’ll even put his paws over his ears when he’s had enough.

Still, they all decide they can handle humoring him this time, so they listen to him reminisce about the days when he was a child. He at least doesn’t usually talk about those days too much, back when people started to act civilized again. Though he is an older man, his voice and eyes are still as spirited as ever.

“Handing all of the world’s work over to machines again had been welcomed into open arms by everyone, for the most part.”

Ray knows all of the stories, and as if it were imprinted in his instincts, he regularly comments in, to keep his dad rolling like clockwork. “It only really takes one, or at most two generations, for a people to forget the lessons of a war.” It sounds scripted when he says it.

“You’re right my boy. The big changes actually came long after the war, when people found themselves bored, fat, and unhappy. Just wasn’t anything for anyone to do anymore! There was plenty of free time for people to enjoy themselves. The good times had only lasted till the end of what we called the working generation though. They were the ones who rebuilt this world. There aren’t many of them left. Hell, the ones that are still alive are probably STILL working!” He won’t say that he is part of that generation, but that’s what he means. “Not many of you youngsters know how good you’ve got it. You guys only work, like what, maybe twenty hours a week? You can’t see what it’s done, but I can. People’ve become stir-crazy, like all the rats!”

One of the other older men nods his head. “That’s why we cling to our stubborn old way of life right? It gives us purpose.”

Mikel cynically chimes in. “For now… while there’s still some of us left.” Ray ignores him and refuses to acknowledge his sour attitude.

Ray’s father looks around the circle, looking at each person before continuing. “Without a sense of accomplishment, a man’ll wither away till there’s nothin left of im.”

“I know what ya mean Mikel. Once my generation finally dies off, things’ll go south again. We saw what was left of this world with our own eyes back when we was growin up. None of you did. He points his finger at everyone younger than him while all the other old-timers nod their heads. “Idle hands make for war.”

One of the others, John’s life-long best friend Gil, takes his hat off and offers up his history. His lips wrap around what is left of his worn teeth and he speaks in a dry voice. The firelight gleams dully off his faded eyes. “I remember what was left after the war ended, what was still there lyin in the dust. Heck, it had already been twenty years history by the time I was born. I still remembers how much carnage was left over, even then. There wasn’t hardly anyone left to even pick up the bones when it was all over. They were still there.” Without looking up from the fire, he points a hooked finger up over his back, out towards the barn.

“When I was just a young boy, Gil here was the one who showed me the ropes. We used to collect scrap from where machines must’ve gone down. Back then, there were still human skeletons littering the ground all over the place.” Both of them shake their heads, still in disbelief of what they thought was normal back then. John circles his arm all around them in a big circle. “This was all covered in death, all of it. The terrifying stories our folks used to tell us still give me nightmares.”

“The worst part was that they weren’t just stories! We went out there in the fields ourselves and found the piles of people they saw die. The very ones they told us about. Our folks were a hard bunch, and even they wouldn’t go out there. We were just dumb curious kids.”

“Our parent told us what happened. When they were young, that’s when the robots came from the south.” John waves out across the horizon. Though it’s dark out, they can all see it in their minds.

“As far as the eye could see, across the entire valley, the machines came for them!”

“They say that only one in two hundred survived, and that’s cause the robots came and went so swiftly that they didn’t bother being too thorough.”

“After the machines had come and gone, the real tough times began. There was no government left, no law, no nothing. Only those who were armed, dangerous as all hell, and plain mean, stayed alive. It was a complete free-for-all for the next ten years. It wasn’t government that glued the world back together either. It was farming.” He puts his hands on his knees and smiles, proud of his heritage.

Mikel knows the old man is a coot, but what he says is the truth. “That’s how man came together back in the dawn of time. We were nomads, and then we were farmers.”

John is quite proud to hear the words come from him. “Right my boy.”

Gil, reminiscing on his own, looks up and grins. “There was all kinds of neat stuff lyin around fer people to dig up too. Hell, most of the technology we have now is old shit that we found from way back. We probably still haven’t caught back up to where things were before the war. It was a pretty big system reboot for science for sure.”

“After everyone had made it on their own, and were at peace, is when so-called civilization returned to the world. There were taxes, laws, coppers, and even armies again. Tell you what… the law wasn’t welcomed in the least bit either. Everyone is still pretty tough, even you youngsters today. Our society hasn’t gone too soft just yet, but it’s gettin there. You know people are weak when they rely on the law to protect them. Don’t they get it? The cops only show up after you’re already in trouble.” He quick draws his old revolver and points it up in the air. Everyone else rolls their eyes.

Mikel nods again. “Same as my folks taught me, no one back then was gonna tell them what they could n couldn’t do, not after being forced to look out for themselves for so long. Police were staked right alongside the bandits back then. Turns out, whoever was the toughest is who was right.”

Talking about tough people makes him think about the rats and how they’re the ones that are truly free. They don’t put any stock in some asshole’s authority because he shows up with a shiny piece of tin on his chest. People who live by the old-ways answer to themselves, and no written word will change that. People may think the rats are feeble, but there’s a reason people stay in at night. Thinking of that makes him remember the stories his dad used to tell about the people from the mountains. The ones with the wolves that would eat people. Badges would drop on the floor before anyone would go out there.

In a lighter mood, John makes sure they all understand that it wasn’t all bad either. “Ours father’s generation, and the one before that, had worked themselves to the bone to get where we’re all at today. Not very many folks had the chance to raise families back then. Life had just become too burdensome for people to have children. Once things calmed down, people really did spring back pretty quickly. Everyone was so focused on making a robot workforce to replace themselves, they didn’t realize they had already made one out of themselves.”

All the men chuckle about it. Mainly because of the pie eyed expressions Ray’s Father makes when he gets into it. Gil puts his hand on his chin and smirks, reminiscing about the past. “Even though it seems like robots have taken the livelihood out of everything these days, hardly any of your generation would have even been born if it weren’t for them. Once life became easy again, people found time to bond with one another, and start makin families.” He winks at Mikel specifically, because they have all been teasing him about when he’s going to start a family. They had all taken a liking to Clarice when he introduced her.

When there’s only a shallow bed of coals left in the pit, and Ray is not putting any more wood in, everyone gets the cue that its about time to pack it up for the night. John thanks the men for another good day in the field and shakes a few hands. Even though the point was made hours ago, Mikel still dwells on it. He can’t shake the feeling that there are dark times to come.