A shrill wave of sound envelopes the quarry, engines whirring as they drill into the wall of minerals. A kilometer back in a tall metal tower, the sound all but disappears. Several monitors are surrounded as the technicians hold their breath.
"You better hope for your sake you find Chimridite," a tall figure says, patting the shaking, portly man monitoring the screen.
"We will, sir; all samples indicate that there will most lik…"
Thump.
"No ifs, Mr. Lyme, only results," the figure whispers.
Turning, the tall dark man walks away.
"I expect news soon, Mr. Lyme," he throws over his shoulder as the door slides shut.
A technician in black approaches. "Mr. Lyme, would you like a gene soother?"
"Ah, yes; he wasn't very light-handed, was he?" a technician in the back whispers.
"That's how you get to be head technician: know the signs, watch closely rookie, and keep your mouth shut too. Don't wanna make the boss mad," a senior tech says under his breath.
Mr. Lyme takes the solution, taking a deep breath and reverting to his old 'kind' smile.
"PRTE1-100, get back on the monitors; inform PRFE1-1000 to get those good-for-nothing nameless out of the TnT burst radius. I can't afford to pay for more; the traders want 1,000 lyk for 50. They shouldn't even be worth 15 lyk per body, let alone fucking 20," Mr. Lyme curses.
The techs scramble to their workstations.
"PRTE2-20 ready; communication with PRFE1-1000 established. PRFE1-1000 has indicated ready," shout a group to the right.
"PRTE20-40 ready; all life signs on TNT site have been removed," shout a group to the left.
"PRTE40-100 ready; all heavy equipment has been removed from the burst site," a thunderous shout comes from the second level of monitors.
"PRTE1 ready; ready for countdown upon command," shouts the lead technician.
The air pauses.
"Good, start countdown," says Mr. Lyme.
The head technician counts.
"10"
"9"
"8"
——-
20 minutes earlier
"Look at him, just a dirty mutt," one tall nameless taunts.
Thump
Thump
"Hiss"
"Yo, if you kick him too hard, one of the foremen will catch ya," mutters a nameless teen.
"You know they're able to catch life signs right before the burst point," a man warns.
"Screw this; I don't want to be killed." The portly teen walks off.
"No good bastard. He's been taking all the girls' time. All because he's just a baby. Damn maternal instincts. Ever since he got transferred to this sector, it's getting harder and harder to get a good midnight snack." The tall nameless licks his slug-like lips and starts kicking me in the gut.
Thump
Thump
"What about the radar?" the short man with balding hair asks.
"It'll be fine. He just has to lose enough blood not to pop up on the radar," the slug-lipped man sneers.
Crack
That is all I knew before I lost consciousness. The last thing I saw above ground for the next three years.
—-
"4"
"3"
"2"
"1"
"BOOM"
—-
"Foreman, this subordinate would like to report a casualty."
A young woman stoops down to bow.
"Description," the foreman asks.
"Eight years old, sir, 100 cm, black hair, black eyes," the woman reports.
"Cause of death," the foreman asks dully.
"Suspected homicide, sir," the young woman replies.
"Proof?" The foreman gets a gleam in his eye.
"Monitor shows significant blood loss before burst point eruption, minor tracking device locator failed, no body found, minor tracking device records, hostile involvement between nameless," the subordinate replies.
"Proposal," the lieutenant chuckles with a crazed grin.
"Survival of the fittest under normal circumstances, sir. In the situation of loss of money, public demonstration, sir," the subordinate replies.
"Any money lost?" the foreman asks.
The child's mother gave birth to him on sight; mother conceived on site. No money lost," she reports.
"Very well, you are dismissed," the foreman says, a satisfied look on his face.
The woman salutes, turns, and then exits through the door. The door slides closed behind her.
The foreman taps his fingers upon his desk, a slow smile gracing his face.
"A good seedling indeed," he mutters.
———
I rock consciousness; I expect pain. But I feel nothing. I try to move, rub the pads of my fingers together, hoping for the slightest sensation.
But again, nothing.
I can feel nothing.
I can see nothing.
Am I going to become nothing?
Mom, why did you bring me into this world?
Dammit, Mom, why did you bring me into this world if it was all for nothing? Am I just going to become nothing? Here, in a place I don't know, dying or dead, at eight years of age, with no name, no NOTHING!
I refuse.
There are so many things I haven't done yet. So many things I haven't seen. So many things I haven't touched.
I REFUSE TO BE NOTHING!