Shovels In Spades

It was six in the morning, and just like yesterday, Robert Mathers clambered out of his bed. His muscles ached. They ached a lot.

Thankfully, it wasn't as bad as it was yesterday, but still, the pain was only tolerable when Robert remembered how understanding and kind Chris, the Mine Foreman, had been to him the past two days.

Both on Robert's first day of service and yesterday, he had been forced to stop at only an hour and a half of mining and spend the rest of the time on the jewel and mineral refinement even though he had agreed to do three hours of each.

It was simply too much of a change in the man's lifestyle and his weak body couldn't handle the mining as much as Chris had hoped it would have been able to, so he afforded Robert some leniency.

"Haaa," Robert exhaled deeply and looked at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. It was at that moment that he noticed something... odd. "Have I lost a little bit of weight?"

The ex-mayor was never an overweight man, no, but he did have some extra meat on the shelves, that was for sure. It was strange. He was skinny almost everywhere except for his face and stomach, now though, Robert felt like his cheeks had slimmed down a tiny ounce.

"Maybe its from the mining? But I've only done that for three hours total, and I definitely wasn't swinging the pick with my face..." Robert decided to ignore it and finish getting cleaned up.

What he didn't know, was that the mine, like any other official work-place sanctioned by the system, would boost your natural body or mind, depending on the nature of the work. This was why he was slowly getting into shape despite the minimal work hours.

Robert stepped outside with his new miner gear, namely, a white tank top, a pair of loose trousers, steel-toe-capped boots and a hard hat with a light fixed onto it.

Robert grabbed his shoulders and shuddered a little. "It's really cold this morning. Well, I guess it is the beginning of November, but really? This cold in California? I guess I'm glad I'm working in the mines today..."

The Robert from two days ago would have never said something like that. He had really changed in the short span of forty-eight hours under the guidance of Chris. In fact, it had even reached a point where he didn't need to be escorted around by the two soldiers anymore unless he didn't show up to the mines on time... just like yesterday.

The ex-mayor quivered at the thought. It was dreadful. He was practically carried by the guards and thrown into the mine. To ensure that didn't happen again, he had made sure to get up early today.

Lyle tossed and turned in his bedsheets. He was having a dark and vicious nightmare. He awoke gasping for breath and covered entirely in sweat.

Today would make Lyle's second full day that had passed without using any heroin. His body didn't like the sudden lack of the substance it had grown to rely heavily on upon. Lyle shook greatly and stumbled onto his feet.

He wandered out of his room and down the hallway of the cabin he shared with several other citizens before he found the door he was looking for. With ragged breath and weak movements, he knocked on it a few times.

Perhaps a minute later, there was movement from the other side. Opening the door slowly, Mave, the short glasses-wearing brain surgeon, looked at Lyle's condition and sighed. "Well, you'd better come in."

Lyle followed her into the room and took a seat on the sofa. His back glued itself to the fabric thanks to the sweat that was coming through his shirt and he immediately began biting his fingernails while his mind was filled with dark thoughts.

Mave pulled out a few tools from a cupboard and brought them over to Lyle. After measuring his blood pressure, heart rate, breathing, and temperature levels, Mave sighed.

"You're still in the peak of your withdrawal, but you are slowly stabilising. Anyway," she said as she leaned back and began putting her tools away, "What brings you here this early? Do I need to add insomnia to your list of symptoms? You do know that no matter how much you ask, you're not getting any more methadone than you need, right?"

"I... I know... I just... I wanted someone to talk to... I'm sorry if I'm being a bother..." Lyle replied with a distinctly depressed tone in his voice.

Lyle stood up and his entire body jolted in response. "I... I'll go back. I didn't mean to disturb you so early..."

Mave could see how terrible his condition was, so she shook her head lightly and walked over to Lyle. She gently pushed him back onto the sofa. "Don't be silly. I'm already awake, so it's fine. Besides, doctors are used to a lack of sleep," she joked in a monotonous tone before she asked, "Want some water?"

Lyle was momentarily startled, but he nodded his head ever so slightly. "Thank you... I would.... appreciate that."

Lyle was certain that if it wasn't for Mave's help, he wouldn't have been able to quit his life-long enemy, heroin. With her by his side, guiding him through this painful process, Lyle was hopeful that he could fully recover and return to his position as Daz's advisor.

Ellie Richie, unlike most other citizens of Fort Skip who were busy sleeping, was in an open grassland area of the outer fort with her Automaton pet.

Mini Daz was flying around her head as she tried her best to move the Automaton, oddly named, 'M Destroyer'.

It clumsily hovered in the directions Ellie wanted it to, but it wasn't as accurate as she would have liked. "Mmm, it's useless like this... I should really use my merit points on upgrading you, shouldn't I, M Destroyer?"

This tale has been pilfered from NovelFire. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Just saying the machine's name brought a smile to the young woman's lips. It did, after all, hold a very significant meaning to her.

"System, how many points do I have?" Ellie asked politely.