Chapter 4 #2
After the mess in the recycling plant, the condition of the laundry room failed to surprise me.
Bins overflowing with soiled garments and uniforms had been lined up.
The line snaked around the room. Rows of washers and dryers stood silent and unused.
The bins for clean clothes were empty. One person loaded a washer.
Another folded clothes. A few picked through the dirty bins, searching for sizes. Otherwise the place was empty.
I crossed to the lady shoving sheets into a washer. She wore the drab green jumpsuit that the scrubs wore when off-duty.
“Where’s everyone?” I asked. By necessity, the laundry had the most workers in the lower levels.
She shrugged. “Not here. If you want clean clothes, you have to do them yourself.”
“How long has it been like this?” I asked.
“Where’ve you been?” The woman paused to look at me for the first time.
“In the upper levels, I’d bet.” She swept her hand out.
“The laundry scrubs stayed for a few weeks, but none of the uppers came down to help them. Eventually they stopped. They’re not washing the upper’s clothes.
We’re all supposed to be equal, but as far as the scrubs are concerned nothing’s changed. ”
I bit back my reply about the lack of Pop Cops patrolling the hallways and kill-zapping dissenters or about not having to report to the hundred hour assemblies. Instead I said, “You have to be patient. It’s going to take some time to get everyone organized. And we outnumber the uppers ten to one.”
“So? Can’t a few come down and help? How hard can it be?”
Opening my mouth to respond, I closed it. She had a point. But it wasn’t like the uppers sat around doing nothing. Yet another problem for the Committee to address.
The woman waited for my reply.
“The Committee—”
“Has caused more problems than they’ve solved. This is a big ship right?”
Confused by the change in topic, I said, “Sort of, but—”
“We had a captain right?”
“Captain James Trava. But he was relieved of duty. All the Trava officers were.” We also had an admiral and a fleet admiral. Although I didn’t know why since one ship didn’t equal a fleet.
“So? Appoint another.”
I smiled. “Just like that?”
“Why not? Can’t be any harder than taking the Travas out right? Unless you’re afraid?”
My humor died. “I’m not afraid of anyone.”
“I don’t doubt that young lady, but I wasn’t talking about a person.”
“Then what—”
She poked a finger at a bin half hidden behind the washers. “You’ll find clean clothes in there. They’re too small for most of the scrubs.” Scooping up an armful of clothes, she added them to the washer. Conversation over.
I sorted through the uniforms and jumpsuits. Finding a few shirts and a pair of pants, I tucked them under my arm. The nearest washroom was in Sector F1, which also housed the barracks, along with Sectors D1 and E1. Bluelights lit the rows and rows of bunk beds stacked three high.
Unlike the laundry and recycling areas, many scrubs lounged in the barracks.
Some gathered in groups, others slept despite the noise, and a few played cards.
The place was packed and the stench of them nearly knocked me over.
I hurried to change my clothes in the washroom, but as I dashed through the barracks on my way out, I spotted a number of ISF officers patrolling the barracks.
I jerked to a stop, stunned as if I had just slammed into a wall.
Why were they here? The scrubs didn’t like their presence either.
They threw snide and nasty comments at them, mocking and taunting them.
Horrible. I wondered if Anne-Jade knew what was going on down here.
Or was she like me, avoiding the lower levels.
I hadn’t been on levels one or two in weeks and I didn’t have a good reason either.
Sick to my stomach, I paused in the corridor and breathed in the clean air until my heart slowed to normal. Going with a hunch, I braced for another assault on my senses as I entered the barracks in Sector D1. Jacy used to hold court in a corner.
Not as bad as F1, there were less people and ISF officers. Also the general mood seemed stable and not as tense.
Sure enough, Jacy and a few of his followers huddled together. When I approached, they broke apart.
“Hello Trella,” Jacy said, but his tone was far from welcoming. “What’s the emergency?”
“There isn’t one. Why would you think that?”
“You’re here with the scrubs so it must be something big.”
I ignored his snide comment. “Did you mention what’s going on down here to the Committee?”
“And just what is going on?” He acted innocent.
“The piles in recycling and the dirty laundry. How no one is doing their jobs.”
“Of course.”
“And?”
“And nothing. It’s not a high priority. The Committee thinks once the extra levels are completed and the scrubs get more space, everyone will be happy to return to work.” His sarcastic tone implied otherwise.
“Is it the same for all the systems?”
“Except for maintenance and security, they’re busy and productive. Why? Do you care now?”
I laced my hands together to keep from punching Jacy. “Okay tell me. What should I be doing?”
He jerked as if I surprised him. “Truthfully?”
“Always.”
“Disband the Committee. Appoint a few people to be in charge.”
I laughed. “Is that it? And here I was ready for something that would be hard to do.”
“You asked.” He kept his expression neutral.
“I don’t have the power to appoint people. I’m just a—”
“A scrub?”
“No. A citizen of Inside. I’ve done my part. It’s time for other people to step in and set up a better system. I wouldn’t know the first thing about running a society.”
“Uh-uh.” Jacy leaned against a bunk. “And you’re here because…”
“I need to talk to you.”
“So talk.”
I glanced around. There were too many people nearby who seemed interested in our conversation. “Some place private.”
He frowned with annoyance then snapped his fingers at his people. They cleared a wider space around us. Impressive.
“Better?”
“Yes.” But I hesitated. His hostility worried me. Plus he acted like he had before the rebellion—as if we were enemies. Yet he had been a key member, rising to the occasion and being invaluable. I suppressed my doubts and asked him if he knew or heard of an expert in explosions.
He whistled. “You think someone damaged the power plant on purpose?”
Trust Jacy to put the pieces together so quickly. “Let’s just say I’d like another opinion.”
“Uh-uh. And what if this expert is the one you’re searching for?”
“There is always that possibility.”
He tapped his fingers on the bunk’s metal support beam as he considered my request. “I do know one scrub that would be regarded as an expert, but you need to do something for me in return.”
No surprise. “And that would be…”
“Remember the listening device you planted for me in Karla Trava’s office?”
“Yes.” It had been removed after the rebellion.
“I need you to plant some for me.”
“Why?” I asked. “The Pop Cops are gone, and you should know everything that’s being decided from the Committee meetings.”
“Let’s just say I’d like another opinion. Deal?”
“Yes, I’ll plant the mics for you.” But I didn’t say where I would.
“Good. I’ll get them to you soon.”
“And that expert?”
Jacy grinned. “His name is Bubba Boom and he works for maintenance.”
“You got to be kidding me.”
“Nope. He probably had a real name when he was born, but his care mates gave him that nickname at a young age. Bubba Boom can set fire to anything, and he loved setting off little explosions. Drove his Care Mother crazy, burning up various things in the care facility. He was the youngest scrub to be a member of the fire response team since he’s equally adept at extinguishing fires. ”
He sounded familiar. “Is he the guy who rigged that container of casserole to explode?”
“Yep. He had to help the kitchen scrubs clean green goo from the walls and ceiling for a week.”
I remembered hearing about his pranks. My care mates used to delight in telling the stories, but I had never learned his name. By the time I graduated from the care facility, he had stopped his mischief. “Did working for the fire response team settle him down?”
“Nope. The Pop Cops took care of that.”
Understandable. Vinco could convert anyone after a couple sessions with his knife.
Hank worked on repairs to the pipes below the blasted section of the power plant between levels three and four.
He shouted orders and the others rushed to follow them.
A few faces weren’t familiar and I hoped that meant more of the lower level citizens had volunteered.
My optimistic assumptions burst when I spotted a number of armed ISF officers nearby.
Anne-Jade didn’t waste time. She had mentioned using Travas for the repairs a mere twelve hours ago and here they were.
When Hank took a break, I asked him about Bubba Boom.
He chuckled. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time. We just call him Bubba and he’s up on level four welding the ruptured water tank.”
I thanked him and headed for the water storage tanks located in Sector B4. When I entered, the humid air reminded me of hydroponics except there was nothing living growing here—only rust. The spilled water had been cleaned, but not before some of it had dripped down to the infirmary.
The crackle and hiss of a torch sounded in the corner closest to the explosion.
Sparks flew, pointing out Bubba even though he wore a metal shield over his face.
He worked on a long crack along the seam of the metal tank.
Wearing gray maintenance coveralls streaked with dirt and peppered with holes, his large frame reminded me of Cog.
Looking at the damage to the tanks, I wondered how Cogon would have reacted to the explosion. He’d been angry and upset and I would have had to force him to take breaks. He’d have every single person of Inside helping until the damage was repaired, and they would have been happy to do it for him.