The Labyrinth Keys

The thing about trash is that one can never be fully prepared for what you might find. People discard all kinds of things—wallets, keys, necklaces, money. These are all items that can end up in the trash. Not all unwanted things are thrown away, though. These valuable items were not cast aside by their owner but rather lost their way. One can say the same about the job of a garbage sorter. Most of the people working here once held value to those who loved them. Whether they were cast away by society or lost their way, they may find themselves as a trash sorter. Ashfield is a city in the country of Lana, one that finds itself overflowing with this kind of trash. Whether it's people or actual garbage, this city is ripe with it.I use my gloved hands to pick through another bag of trash. The work is tiring, and our equipment is lacking, but it pays well enough. The job is also the only one I have been able to keep for a few years now. They used to call me Jumpin' Jack around some of the bars here. Given I am 25, I've hopped jobs more than most men have in their entire lives. I glance at a broken mirror—it captures the man I've become. My olive-green eyes, murky and dull like the stagnant pools of chemical runoff nearby, scan the endless mountains of trash before me. I wear a faded blood-red jumpsuit, patched in more places than I can count, with the insignia of "Ashfield Waste Solutions" barely clinging to the chest. My boots are heavy, black, and reinforced with steel, crunching against the cracked ground beneath me—a mixture of dust rock and pulverized waste. The air here is sharp, carrying the acrid stench of burning plastics and something faintly metallic, all swirling in the ever-present red haze that hangs over our wonderful planet Geldara. My blonde hair is tousled and messy, streaked with gray dust that clings to everything on this red planet.This is the edge of the waste zones, a sprawling open dump where the airlocks of orbital freighters release cargo holds full of humanity's discarded remnants. The horizon is jagged, broken by towering piles of twisted metal, shattered glass, and decomposing organics. Beyond the trash, the planet stretches out in a barren landscape of crimson dunes and obsidian cliffs, as lifeless and unwelcoming as the garbage itself. At 25, my back already feels like it belongs to someone twice my age, the toll of years spent hauling, sorting, and scavenging for anything salvageable. The pay is meager, but for someone like me—discarded by society just like the junk I sift through—it's the only work left in this corner of the galaxy.Just as I'm thinking that, I hear a grunt from beyond the trash pile I'm working on. I hear a young man curse to himself. Must be the new hire. I walk over to the young man, no older than 17. I find him pushing himself up from some trash. He is pale and fragile-looking, his short black hair slick with sweat and dust. He has a yellow jumpsuit they give to newbies, now crumpled with dirt and grime. He turns to me, his blue eyes unsteady, and his mouth now gritted. I can't help but chuckle. "Gotta be careful, newbie. All kinds of shit to trip on." The boy lets out another few curses and then pulls himself out. The boy I now begin to remember is named Hans. He lets out a flustered sigh. "God damn, big-ass black sphere is in the middle of this trash pile. Who throws away something like that? Freaking dumbasses."Boy sure has a mouth on him. I look down at what Hans is now pointing at and snort. In front of Hans is a big, out-of-place black sphere. Hans is the first to speak up. "Whatcha think that is worth?" I get on one knee and go to pick the sphere up. The thing won't even budge. The sphere is a hunk of metal about the size of a basketball, all black, with slits all over it. I look at it more carefully. The metal itself could be valuable, but there's no point in even thinking about that. I sigh. "Could be worth a couple androna—maybe a hundred or so, if the scrap buyers don't try to cheat us. I wouldn't worry about that though. Boss will have our heads if we walk away with even a small piece of scrap. What we are being paid to do, after all, is separate the shit from the valuables."Hans looks disappointed. "How we even gonna pick that up, Mr. Vesper?" I wasn't used to being the kid's boss yet, so I hesitated and then decided, "Get us the gravity gloves and we can move it together. They're in the place I showed you earlier in Mark's office." Hans nodded and went to fetch what we needed. I leaned down to get a better look at it. On the side of the big metal ball, I could see a light blinking. The green light flashed at me curiously. I looked and saw a small black button below the bottom of the green flashing light. I pressed the button curiously and felt something drop onto my shoe. It was a small black chip of some kind. I looked around. Hans and I were the only ones out here today.It was a Saturday, so the boss and most of the guys were at home. I decided to come in for some extra hours since I had the time, and I was also supposed to train Hans. The job was simple enough— all you do is take piles of trash and separate the valuable-looking stuff from the bad. The good shit is put into buckets that we carry around, and we leave the bad piles where they are. Usually, we are patted down in case we decide to take some stuff for ourselves, but on days like today, there isn't anyone else really. Frank, our security guy, is technically supposed to pat us down before we leave, but on days like today, he is half asleep in his office. Which is why I offer to come in on weekends sometimes, I can help myself to a few of the smaller pieces of valuable scrap. Figure it's a little bonus for coming in on my day off. Mark, my boss, probably knows I do a little skimming off the top, but he's just like the rest of us—just trying to get by.With that in mind, before Hans gets back, I slip the little chip into my pocket. It could be worth something to the right seller, depending on what's on it. Something I'm now curious about, since it was in such a secure-looking metal ball.As I stuff the chip into my pocket, I glance around one last time. The junkyard feels oddly quiet today, like it's holding its breath. The red haze of the planet's atmosphere hangs thick, casting everything in a dull, oppressive light. I can barely hear the distant hum of the city, buried beneath the layers of trash and the constant crunch of boots on the cracked earth. I don't know why, but something about this chip feels off. It's too clean, too precise, for the usual garbage we sift through. Could be valuable, or it could be nothing. Either way, I'm not about to leave it lying around.I hear Hans's footsteps approaching, and I quickly shove the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand. The kid's running back, holding the gravity gloves in his arms. He's breathing heavier now, his face still flushed from the effort of hauling himself through the trash. The gloves are bulky, a bit too big for him, but they'll do the trick. I've worked with them enough to know they're reliable. They're a little more than standard issue, but not much. Still, they're one of the few tools we have that make the job even remotely bearable."Alright, Hans, get those on," I say, motioning for him to strap in. "Let's see if we can make this thing budge."He grumbles under his breath, but he does what he's told, sliding the bulky gloves over his hands. I can hear the faint hum as the gravity manipulator systems kick in, the gloves locking into place with a satisfying click. Once he's ready, I give him a nod."On three," I say, setting my hands on the sphere, waiting for Hans to do the same. He's still unsure, but he mimics my movements. "One... two... three."Together, we lift. The weight of the sphere surprises me—it's heavier than I thought. The gravity gloves handle most of the work, but there's an undeniable resistance, like the sphere is fighting back. As we strain, the surface of the sphere shifts slightly, the slits on its surface widening just a hair. For a second, it almost seems like it's reacting to our touch, as if it's alive. I shake the thought off. It's just a piece of junk, right?We manage to get the sphere into a bucket, close the lid, and practically drag it toward the chute. We dump it inside, and the sphere makes its way down into the pile of valuable stuff and out of our hands. With that last item, I nod at Hans. "Good work today, Hans. I think you'll fit in nicely here. Get some rest for Monday. We've got a big day as usual."Hans gives me a tired but grateful nod, his shoulders slumping as the adrenaline from the strange sphere wears off. He pulls off the gravity gloves, looks at them for a moment, then shoves them into his bag with a grunt. "Thanks, Mr. Vesper. I'll be ready for Monday. I don't know if I'll ever get used to all this... weird shit." He gestures around at the massive dump, as if the entire place could swallow him whole.I offer him a half-smile, trying to keep my own unease in check. "Don't worry, kid. Weird is normal here. You'll get used to it."As Hans makes his way to the exit, I stand there for a moment, staring at the chute where the sphere disappeared into the pile of valuable junk. My stomach churns. Something doesn't sit right about it. That green light, the way it reacted... it wasn't just a piece of tech. It felt like it was waiting for something. Or someone.I take a deep breath and shake the thought off. It's not like I haven't seen strange things before. Most of the time, they end up being worthless. But something about the way that sphere felt, the warmth of the chip in my pocket... I pull it out now, glancing at it once more. The black chip feels heavy in my hand, like it's full of secrets I'm not sure I want to know. I make my way toward the exit, trying to shake off the weird feeling I have. I clock out on my phone and feel the tension leave my body as another long workday is done.