Digging

Written for Stories Across Borders, Digging is a short story exploring the unhealthy side of positivity in a dystopian setting. In the world of Digging, children are sold into servitude so parents can survive, slaving away in demanding mines.

Tink. Tink. Tink.

The repetitive sounds of metal on stone assaulted my ears, an endless monotonous drone created by a chorus of pickaxes slamming against the walls of the mine. I did my best to let it become background noise, losing myself in the work. The movement became my buffer against the sound. The burning in my arms and the sweat stinging my eyes distracted me from the throbbing in my head. There can be a silver lining anywhere if you look hard enough.

I was one of the oldest, although I wasn’t exactly sure of my age. Early to mid teens at most. My sister was a few years younger than me. Most of the kids in the mines were around her age. I had tried to keep track of our birthdays at first, but as the months went on, it became harder to keep track of time. 

There were nearly a hundred of us working the mine. All of us were sold to the corporation by parents or caregivers who couldn’t afford to eat otherwise. Which corporation? I couldn’t tell you. One of many. The logo on the trucks that collected the ore we mined didn’t have any words. It could have been any of the numerous conglomerates that rose to power when the world burned. It didn’t really matter. I was sure it was much the same regardless.

It was okay though. They kept us fed and clothed. The food wasn’t good, but it was nutritious and it could have been a lot worse. The clothes were scarcely more than rags - too small or too big for whoever wore them half the time - but they kept us covered. The boots were good though. I had always noticed that the work boots they gave us were a reasonably good fit and had toes capped with steel. If we hurt our feet and couldn’t walk for a while, we weren't much use to anyone.

It was like I said, silver linings. When you were growing up as much property as a person, you had to learn to appreciate the little things. Injuries happened, but they were reasonably rare. Deaths were rarer still. We looked out for each other in our mine. The corporation even had some of us trained in basic first aid. I suppose we had one of the better ones for our overlords.

“Only a few more hours left today!” I called out. “Hang in there!”

As one of the older kids, it was my job to be a leader and caregiver for those who were younger than me. It wasn’t an official position as such, but it was encouraged by the powers that be. I think we probably would have fallen into a similar arrangement one way or another. Not that everyone appreciated my constant encouragement. 

“Fan-fucking-tastic, Ethan.”

The biting, sarcastic remark came from my sister, Ivy. She wasn’t far from me, swinging her pickaxe into the wall and collecting any trace of metal she found. Her hair, usually cut short, was starting to grow out and was plastered to her face by sweat. She was smaller than me, but fierce enough that it was a good idea to avoid crossing her while she was holding a pickaxe. The sharp glare and red face only amplified the impression that she was a little unhinged. She wasn’t, but I still didn’t want to make her any angrier.

“Quiet,” I said under my breath. “This only gets harder for everyone if we don’t stay positive and keep our morale up. Besides, a kid your age shouldn’t have such a dirty mouth”

“What exactly is positive about this?” She hissed back. “It’s over forty degrees, my arms are on fire and my head is pounding. I just want to go to sleep but you have just reminded all of us that we have hours of this left.”

“It’s well over forty above ground. I think it’s actually a bit cooler down here without the direct sunlight.”

“Oh well that makes it all better. The slave labour keeps us from getting sunburn. I don’t think it matters when we work so hard it more than makes up for it!”

“It isn’t slave labour. We only have to work until we’re adults. Then we can transition to paid work.”

“That’s sooner for you than for some of us.”

“If you just stay positive and focus on the work, it’ll be over before you even realise,” I reasoned.

“Bullshit.”

“Language,” I reminded her.

“We don’t even know how old we are!” Ivy shot back. “How are you judging that I’m too young to swear at you?”

At this point, other kids in the area were noticing our dispute and it was distracting them from their work. 

We’d had many different versions of this discussion over our time in the mine. Ivy always seemed determined to embrace the worst of the situation. Obviously it wasn’t the best life for us, but it could have been worse. I figured she just made things harder for herself and for everyone around her with the constant negativity. 

I could see the questioning looks from some of the others, Ivy’s friends especially. I would have to shut this down and bring the mood back up or it would hurt everyone’s productivity. That wouldn’t be good for any of us in any capacity.

“Come on guys, back to it!” I called out, smiling widely and putting that grin into my voice. “I can practically taste dinner already. We’re going to feel this time a lot less if we’re busy. Let’s show them that we’ve earned our meals!”

Begrudgingly, the onlookers slowly started returning to their work. They kept looking at us out of the corner of their eyes and their hearts weren’t really in it. The damage had been done. But it was something.

Ivy was the last to return to work. She spent a long time just standing still, glaring at me. I could feel her anger. I met her gaze and matched her glare with a smile. Eventually, the two of us were working side by side in silence.

I liked those moments. The two of us, working together towards a common goal, putting our differences aside for the greater good. More or less.

There’s always a vein of silver to be found if you’re willing to dig for it.