The Underclass - Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Fula just didn't understand why the Federation government would do such a thing.
The purpose of excavating tyap-j was to reduce the risk of tunnel collapses and minimize losses, but didn't the loss of workers to tyap-j count as a loss?
In fact, after its implementation, worker casualties skyrocketed. The lethal risk of going down the mines was no longer tunnel collapses or infectious diseases, but the far more terrifying, practically incurable SAR.
When Fula learned the truth, she practically gnashed her teeth in fury. At the time, she had been walking the streets of District A, surrounded by beautiful neon lights and high-tech advertisements. A nearby mechanical enforcer noticed her abnormal emotional state, quickly gliding over to ask, "Ma'am, is there anything I can help you with?"
Fula looked down at the mechanical construct. For a split second, the urge to smash it to pieces surged within her, but it lasted only a moment.
Mechanical enforcers constantly monitored public emotions to prevent extreme incidents. If her malicious intent toward the enforcer exceeded a certain duration, she would be deemed aggressive, triggering the machine to initiate suppression protocols immediately.
They didn't even have the right to get angry in broad daylight.
Fula replied expressionlessly, "No, I am perfectly fine right now."
With that, she left District A.
That time, her assassination plan had failed, and on top of it, she received that horrific news. She never set foot in District A again.
Galaxy, standing beside her, had already begun to form her own speculations about why the Federation government had done this.
Fula had always believed that people were incredibly important, and human life even more so, but the Federation government clearly didn't share that view.
The lives of the lower-class citizens weren't considered important. By bringing tyap-j here, they definitely had a specific, Federation-benefitting objective in mind. Because this objective conflicted with the well-being of the lower-class miners, the higher-ups unhesitatingly chose to sacrifice them.
Galaxy could easily picture what kind of openly acknowledged yet high-sounding meeting that must have been. Perhaps a phrase like "all for the Federation" was tossed out to let the politicians wash their hands of the massive loss of life that was about to follow.
Today, they were assigned to Mine Tunnel No. 7. It was a prime location. They had been miners for nearly seven days now, mostly working rotating shifts where recruited laborers were shuffled across twenty different tunnels, big and small.
This was reportedly a rule set by the research institute, claiming it was to minimize the risk of contracting SAR. Conveniently, it also made it easier for Galaxy and Fula to scout the area.
An underground research facility located beneath a mine was bound to have an entry route, perhaps even several.
After observing for seven days, the two finally found an anomaly.
Mine Tunnel No. 7 was the largest mine here, and unlike the others, it had two extra high walls. Occasionally, researchers would walk out from behind them.
Perhaps out of sheer arrogance regarding their security systems, or perhaps because they once needed to provide an explanation to the public—especially the miners—the research institute wasn't as hidden as they had imagined. In fact, it easily surfaced right before their eyes.
How to get inside became the next problem.
The institute didn't have heavy preventative measures or security guards, but forcing that massive door open from the outside was as difficult as ascending to the heavens. Every time it opened, it required 64 randomly generated passwords, and figuring out what they were each time was incredibly tough.
Even after Fula reported the situation, there was no particularly safe method of entry; they could only rely on their own wits.
But soon enough, Galaxy's opportunity arrived.
A week later, they were rotated back into Mine Tunnel No. 7, right as a young researcher was stepping out from the main doors.
Suddenly, a clamor of panicked shouts erupted from the crowd of miners. Galaxy, who had been pondering how to get inside, instinctively looked over, her gaze pausing.
Amidst the crowd, a frail young girl was falling stiffly to the ground. The roots of her hair were already turning white, and her eyes were growing vacant.
Someone in the chaos cried out in terror, "It's… it's SAR! It's SAR!"
The mine instantly went dead silent, and everyone hastily backed away from the girl.
The Federation's health and disease guidelines explicitly stated that SAR was contagious. But insiders like Galaxy could explain it more accurately: it wasn't a contagion, but rather high concentrations of radioactive material lingering on the human body, which could cause corrosive damage upon close contact with the patient.
"What do we do?" someone asked, their voice trembling.
Galaxy's eyes flashed. She exchanged a meaningful look with Fula, then stepped forward, stuttering and crying as she blocked the young researcher who was trying to pretend nothing was happening and leave.
Researchers were accustomed to the deaths of patients, and knowing the underlying truth, why would they make a fuss over a SAR patient?
But Galaxy shouted loudly, "You are a researcher from the institute! Please! You must be able to save my sister!"
With tears in her eyes, she grabbed the researcher's sleeve with her mining gloves. "Please save her! You're an important person, you must have a way!"
The young researcher's brow furrowed tightly—not because of Galaxy's plea, but because the dark, dirty marks left on her pristine white lab coat disgusted her deeply.
Researchers sent here were either exceptionally brilliant or had prestigious family backgrounds. She belonged to the latter. She had never looked at the underground miners with anything but disdain, but laboratory rules dictated that to secure the Federation's future, they must not incite conflicts with the miners, lest it trigger a strike.
Thus, she restrained herself and answered coldly, "The best thing you can do right now is quickly send her to the largest hospital in District C to be treated properly."
A cold glint flashed in Galaxy's eyes.
Everyone knew that medical treatment was an astronomical expense right now, let alone for a common miner.
As expected, the researcher's words drew the miners' ire. It was just that this dissatisfaction, numbed by years of hardship, had devolved into a physical and mental apathy, a deathly silence.
The researcher thought her response had appeased them and prepared to leave. She didn't dare linger in this highly radioactive mine tunnel, fearing it would affect her brain—a vital Federation asset.
However, Fula, who had already prepared for this, ripped off her glove and viciously threw it to the ground. She sneered, "Go to the hospital? Ms. Researcher, do you not know how poor us miners are? Or do you just not know how expensive hospital bills are?"
"Didn't they say your research institute was established to cure SAR? Not only have you failed to find a cure after all these years, but when a worker falls ill right at your doorstep—when the closest medical facility is clearly inside your institute—why are you telling us to send her to a hospital instead? Even a whole day's wages for all of us combined wouldn't cover three hours of her hospital fees, and you want us to send her there?"
She added fiercely, "Rather than dying to SAR on some unknown day in the future, we might as well quit right now. As long as we have our lives, we'll find a way. Even wandering as beggars is better than getting sick one day and being abandoned by people like you, constantly living in fear."
Her words struck right at the heart of every worker. No one cheered, but no one argued back either. They just stared silently at the researcher, like a range of low hills demanding an explanation from a towering mountain.
Cold sweat broke out on the researcher's face. The workers she viewed as insects suddenly looked vicious. Under the pressure, her instinct was to activate her protective system. It was a device the institute equipped every scientific talent with; in the event of danger, it would initiate a firing sequence, unconditionally protecting the researcher's life to preserve the Federation's glory.
Galaxy, sharp-eyed, spotted her thumb moving and immediately screamed, "She's trying to kill us! I saw it on an old TV broadcast! That's a Federation protector in her hand. If she presses it, it will shoot everyone indiscriminately!"
"What?!" the workers screamed in disbelief. "How can you treat us like this!"
"What did we do wrong?!"
"You actually want to kill us!"
"No, no, no, I didn't mean that!" The terrified researcher dropped the protector. A worker quickly scrambled over to pick it up, gritting her teeth as she confirmed, "It really is an indiscriminate firing system!"
Mutiny brewed in the mine. The workers, who just moments ago didn't dare beg or speak up, now displayed genuine ferocity. They locked their eyes onto the researcher in front of them, looking ready to tear her apart.
The researcher instinctively backed up, pressing her spine tightly against the wall. A flash of panic finally broke through her haughty gaze.
Behind her, the door chimed and opened again. An older woman hurried out. She had obviously heard about the incident in the mine and rushed over.
Her expression was much gentler than the younger researcher's. She only glared severely at her student upon exiting, then turned to the aggressive workers and said, "I am so sorry. This is my student. She hasn't interacted much with people and misunderstood your intentions, thinking you wanted to hurt her. But she absolutely never intended to hurt anyone here. As long as she doesn't leave the institute, her launcher is kept in empty-needle mode year-round. It's only loaded with steel darts when she travels far away for self-defense. Just now, she was simply scared and trying to put up a brave front."
They absolutely would not admit that the researcher had initiated an unprovoked attack.
It was the workers' fault. They were too crude and spoke too harshly, which scared their precious researcher.
But her spring-breeze apology completely bypassed the critical thinking of the workers, who had been numbed for years.
"Since the SAR case occurred right in front of the institute, naturally it should be treated by the institute," the woman said apologetically. "I came specifically to bring her in. Our director heard about the situation in the mine and explicitly sent me to bring her into the facility."
With that, she looked around. "However, the two of us probably can't carry her. Would anyone be willing to help us carry her inside? You will be handsomely rewarded."
The workers, whose emotions had just been stirred up, looked at each other in dismay. No one dared to pick up the little girl lying on the ground.
A smug, mocking smile briefly touched the corners of the woman's lips. Having them lower themselves to carry a SAR patient was absolutely impossible. Feigning distress, she said, "Perhaps we can wait until tonight for our medical staff to arrive and move her into the institute. It would be best for everyone to head back early today and take a nice, comfortable hot spring bath. Hot springs can effectively kill the SAR virus."
This was, of course, a lie. Radioactive contamination didn't wash off so easily unless treated with specialized medical procedures; these were merely words to placate the masses.
But the workers had grown up hearing this 'common knowledge' and believed it implicitly, which even earned the attentive woman a bit of their goodwill.
Galaxy was more than happy for the workers to leave the radioactive mine early. She exchanged a glance with Fula, and the two quickly stepped over to the fallen girl. Galaxy picked her up while Fula supported her. They said to the woman, "We'll do it. She is her sister, and my sister too. We won't abandon her."
A flash of surprise crossed the woman's eyes, but she didn't say anything more. She merely smiled gently at the two of them. "Then follow me."
She stepped aside and quickly punched in the dizzying sequence of passwords again. The heavy door that Galaxy and Fula had spent half a month trying to figure out how to bypass simply opened for them just like that.
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