The Retribution Initiative

Bound to Make Mistakes

-Lucas-

It was the 19th of Ain, 2138. I was having an entirely ordinary day.

So ordinary, in fact, that  Ansel Hebron had already yelled at me twice. I really didn't know what his problem was. I had only been hired two weeks ago, after all. My training had been less than adequate. What did my boss really expect? My first week at Calyx Agriculture Inc. was spent following around an old man named Thaddeus. He was one of those superior types that thought all young people were useless. He spent the entire week showing me nothing about the job, but then griped at me whenever he asked me to do a task I didn't know how to do. "All of you Gen Eps are the same. You want paid premium wages but don't do anything to earn it. It's like you'd all rather just run around instead of live a respectable life," he had scoffed.

I had been tempted to retort, but I bit my tongue. I needed this job. It was already hard enough being Cretian in Hayl. Being a young Cretian right out of school was harder yet. So I held my tongue, followed along, and figured out the job on my own.

Mostly.

This week, the floor manager Ansel Hebron had assigned me to seedling transportation. It wasn't a complicated task. Today, I was moving 92 grow-flats of chard from Greenhouse 15 down to the harvesting floor. There, the harvestery supervisor -I forget her name- would monitor the dozens of automated robotic arms as they carefully plucked the plants from their loamy beds. Calyx Agriculture Inc. was the largest agricultural producer in Mamre. Their skyscraper greenhouses were scattered across the city, providing nutrient-rich greens, vegetables, and fruits to the citizens. In fact, I'd heard a rumor they were considering an expansion so they could start selling to the capital city, Hilos, as well.

Thaddeus was fond of reminding me of the virtues of Calyx. "Young man, you'd best appreciate the place you're at. When I started here back in twenty ninety-two, they only had the one greenhouse, and it was a dinky little thing too. Now they're feeding the entire city! Trust me, boy, it doesn't get more important than this. Without Calyx, Mamre would starve!" He waggled a finger at me. "Keep that in mind the next time you think about slacking off."

I had tried not to roll my eyes in front of him. Personally, I found the work tedious. Most Cretians couldn't afford produce anyways, so it's not like I personally benefitted from it. Besides the paycheck, I guess.

The Primo-Max industrial cargo transporter grumbled to life under me. It was an ancient beast of a machine. It had four heavy tires, a boxy frame, and two long tines that extended out of the front like tusks. I hated the Primo-Max. Its control screen was touchy and the machine was slow to respond. Earlier that week, I'd found that out the hard way. While I was trying to move a stack of empty grow-flats, I'd accidentally accelerated too quickly. The Primo and I barreled into the stack, sending flats flying across the greenhouse. The light plastic frames were unharmed, but that didn't stop Hebron from chewing me out anyways.

Having learned my lesson, I accelerated slowly this time. The machine crawled across the floor, sputtering as it went. I shook my head, still thinking about Hebron. What did he expect? If you don't train your employees, they're bound to make mistakes. He shouldn't have even gotten mad at me. It was all Thaddeus' fault, really.
I approached the first grow-flat and pressed down on the footbrake, too hard. The Primo jolted roughly, lurching me forward in my seat. I threw out my hands to catch myself, narrowly missing the panel of controls. The machine stopped.

I breathed.

"That was close," I whispered. My heart pounded in my ears. I couldn't imagine the nightmare that would have happened if I had hit that delicate panel. With my luck, the Primo probably would have short-circuited, caught fire, and burned down the entire greenhouse. No more job for me. Maybe I should go a little slower.
Gently, the Primo grunted forward and lowered its tines to slide under the long grow-flat. Balanced on crimson stems, the delicate leaves of the chard bobbed gleefully. Massive banks of sunbulbs bathed the plants in a warm glow. It was hot in here. As sweat beaded in the curve of my back, I carefully lifted the flat of plants and maneuvered my way to the industrial elevator. I hated this part. The elevator was only a few inches wider than the grow-flats on either side. I had to be exact. I tapped the screen to reverse, then inched forward. Not quite right. I reversed again, crawled forward, backwards again. The angle had to be just right. Forward, forward, slowly, slowly, there. The line was perfect. I allowed myself a proud grin. I wished Hebron was here to see me now.

I rumbled inside the elevator and made sure to set the parking brake before I climbed out. The elevator was old, built in the early 2000s, and it still required the passenger to manually operate the switches. It drove me insane. Every other elevator I'd ever been in was automatic, operating with verbal cues. Hebron was too cheap for that. He'd be keeping this ancient thing until it croaked. I crammed myself in behind the Primo to access the elevator's control panel. It was a tight fit, even for me. The ancient elevator just wasn't designed for modern equipment. I swung open the panel and shimmied myself in closer. As I did, I felt myself brush against the back hatch of the Primo. My heart sank a little. I craned my neck and my heart sank further. I grabbed a handful of my navy blue work uniform just to make sure. There it was, a stain, a big greasy smudge right across my backside.

"Ughhhh!" My shout echoed tinnily up the elevator shaft. "Why does this always happen to me?" I examined the stain some more. "I'm never going to get this out," I grumbled. All Calyx employees were only given one uniform. All Calyx employees were responsible for the laundering of their uniforms. And Hebron didn't like stains. On any other day, I could just toss my uniform into my All-Kleen wardrobe for a quick automated removal of the usual dust and smells. Stains, though, were a different story. There was something about the removal of cotton from fabric blends in the 2030s that made fabrics much more prone to staining. And, lucky me, the All-Kleen couldn't remove stains. I could only image the hours I'd have to dedicate to the uniform later.

"Tamik!" I swore. Ears burning, I pounded my fist onto the elevator switch to begin my descent. It felt good to take an ounce of my anger out on the elevator. It deserved it. The elevator rattled around me, but I ignored it. Stupid elevator. Stupid cheap uniforms. Stupid Hebron. Stupid job. Why'd I have to work here anyways? Why couldn't I just go get addicted to gromby like the rest of my secondary school friends? They seemed to be doing fine without jobs. They seemed happy, actually. Maybe I shouldn't have listened to my parents.

A plasticky crinkle interrupted my fuming. There was a movement in the back corner of the elevator. I whirled around. My stomach twinged in horror. The grow-flat had gotten snagged on the side of the elevator shaft. As the elevator continued to descend, the flat lifted, suspended on some protrusion. The plants jiggled menacingly.

"Oh no! No, no, no!" I spun back around and smacked the elevator switch again. "Stop! Go up! Do something!" The elevator didn't respond. The flat kept tipping. I could only watch. With a tremendous avalanche, the soil poured out of the flat. The chard waved goodbye and quickly followed. The contents of the grow-flat spilled out over the Primo-Max, the elevator, and me. Dirt got in my mouth. Plants were in my hair. The elevator shuddered to a stop.

To my chagrin, there stood Ansel Hebron, waiting for the elevator.